“Let us go in by all means. The poor child may be in trouble, and, if so, we may be able to help her.”
So the children opened the door, and Alice walked quietly towards the girl. At first she was so absorbed by her grief that she did not hear any footsteps, but suddenly, being conscious that some one else was in the room, she started to her feet, and, drying her eyes upon the corner of her apron, she exclaimed:
“Oh! I beg your pardon, miss; I did not hear any one. Can I do anything for you?”
“We came in search of a drink of water,” said Alice, “and seeing you in trouble we came in, hoping we should be able to do something to help you.”
“How kind you are,” said Sarah, for that was her name. “Indeed I am in sore need of help, but I do not see how I can get it.”
“What is it that troubles you,” said Susy.
“Why, you see,” said Sarah, “mother and I live here by ourselves since father died, which is going on five years now. Well, what with his long sickness and being out of work, we got into debt. After he died mother and I, we worked awful hard. We paid up a little each year until we got even again. But it wore poor mother out, for she did the bulk of everything, and now she has an awful cough, and is so bad she has to stay in bed nearly all day. All our money is gone now, and I can’t get food for her, and how can she get strong again without it? I could earn something if I could get out, but I can’t leave her; and my clothes are so ragged that I can’t bear to be seen. I thought I would cook a couple of potatoes, but I just took out the basket and found that there were only these bad ones left. I never lost my courage before,” she added, “for when we could work together we were bright and cheerful, but it is clean gone now.” And though the poor child tried to smile she failed, and, bursting into tears, she cried as if her heart would break.
“Sarah,” called a feeble voice from a little room near by, “Sarah, whom are you talking to?”
“Yes, mother,” said Sarah; “I’ll come in in one minute.”