"Why, my child, do you pitch upon the artist and the sculptor?" inquired the hag, regarding Ellen fixedly in the face.
"Oh!" answered the young maiden, lightly, "because I do not like to have my countenance handled about by the dirty fingers of the statuary; and you cannot suppose that out of the four services I should voluntarily prefer that of the photographer?"
The old woman looked disappointed, and muttered to herself, "Not quite yet! not quite yet!"
"What did you say, mother?" inquired Ellen.
"I say," replied the hag, assuming a tone of kindness and conciliation, "that you must come back to me in ten days; and in the mean time I will see what is to be done for you."
"In ten days," observed Ellen: "be it so!"
And she took her departure, downcast and disappointed, from the old hag's abode.
CHAPTER LVII.
THE LAST RESOURCE.
POVERTY once again returned—with all its hideous escort of miseries—to the abode of Monroe and his daughter. The articles of comfort which they had lately collected around them were sent to the pawnbroker: necessaries then followed to the same destination.
Ellen no longer sought for needle-work: she had for some time past led a life which incapacitated her for close application to monotonous toil; and she confidently reposed upon the hope that the old woman would procure her more employment with an artist or a sculptor.