," said the widow, trembling with terror, and growing red
and white in turns. Mr. Lampeer, who was on the lookout for any sign of
guiltiness, was now sure that Mrs. Martin could not be honest.

"Where do you live?" This was spoken with a half sneer.

"In Slab Alley," whispered the widow, for her voice was scared out of
her.

"How many children have you got?"

Mrs. Martin gave him the list of her five, with their ages, telling him
of little Harry, who was six years old and an invalid.

"Your oldest is twelve, and a girl. I have a place for her, and, I think,
for the boy, too. You must bind them out. Mr. Slicker, the landlord of
the Farmers' Hotel, will take the girl, and I think James Sweeny will
take the boy to run errands about the livery stable. I'll send you some
provisions and coal to-day; but you must let the children go. I'll come
to your house in a few days. Don't object; I won't hear a word. If you're
as poor as you let on to be, you'll be glad enough to get your young ones
into places where they'll get enough to eat. That's all--not a word,
now." And he turned to the next applicant, leaving the widow to go home
with her heart cold.

Let Susie go to Slicker's tavern! What kind of a house would it be
without her? Who would attend to the house while she sewed? And what
would become of her girl in such a place? And then to send George, who
had to wait on Harry--to send him away forever was to shut out all hope
of ever being in better circumstances. Then she could not sew, and the
children could never help her. God pity the people that fall into the
hands of public charity!

The next few days wore heavily on with the widow. What to do she did not
know. At night she scarcely slept at all. When she did drop into a sleep,
she dreamed that her children were starving, and woke in fright. Then she
slept again, and dreamed that a one-eyed robber had gotten in at the
window, and was carrying off Susie and George. At last morning came. The
last of the food was eaten for breakfast, and Widow Martin sat down to
wait. Her mind was in a horrible state of doubt. To starve to death
together, or to give up her children! That was the question which many a
poor mother's heart has had to decide. Mrs. Martin soon became so nervous
she could not sew. She could not keep back the tears, and when Susie and
George put their arms about her neck and asked what was the matter, it
made the matter worse. It was the day before Christmas. T