Great was the wrath, great the indignation of Jonas, the old sailor, when, on returning from his morning stroll, he heard from his sister the story of Madge. The idea of a helpless and innocent child being thus maltreated and abandoned, roused all the lion in his soul. Down came his brown fist with startling violence on the table—as with hearty good-will he might have laid it on the gipsy; and a torrent of fierce abuse was about to pour from his lips, when, recollecting his resolution, he pressed them together with a mighty effort, and suffered his indignation to escape only through his flashing eyes.
“It is evident,” said Mrs. Morris, “that they have found the poor child a burden, and so, hoping that she has made friends in this village, they have gone off and left her, taking care that no one should be able to trace them.”
“They are—” commenced the sailor fiercely, then closed his lips tightly again.
“And now,” continued Mrs. Morris, “the difficulty is how to dispose of this poor child. Notwithstanding all my efforts, I find it no easy matter in these hard times to maintain my own family, and send Johnny and Alie to school. I do not see how it would be possible for me to undertake the support of another child.”
“Then, mother,” said Johnny, who was present, “what will you do with poor Madge?”
“I do not see what I can do,” replied his mother, “but send her at once to the workhouse.”
“The workhouse!” exclaimed Johnny.
“The workhouse!” echoed Alie. “Oh, mother, I’d work my fingers to the bone rather than send poor Madge away! She can share my dinner, my breakfast, my bed.”
Mrs. Morris gravely shook her head; but Alie was too earnest to be easily discouraged.
“I could earn something—I really could, mother! You know that Mrs. Mant said that I might help her in mending!” and the little girl looked imploringly into the face of her mother.