“But,” said the girl, shrinking in dismay from this proposition, “would not that be robbery?”
“Robbery? Pooh, child! Didn’t I tell you that he had cheated me out of twice the value of the plate? And, as I can’t get my pay in any other way, it’s perfectly proper to get it in that.”
Helen was no casuist. She had never had any one to teach her right principles; but she had an instinctive feeling that this was wrong. She wished to remonstrate, but dared not. Her uncle saw her embarrassment, and guessed its cause. He rose from his seat, and stood sternly confronting her.
“Helen Armstrong,” said he, in a compressed voice, “unless you promise me faithfully to perform the part I have assigned you, I will bind you out to Brady Tim, the grocer.”
This Brady Tim was a repulsive character, and kept a grocery of the lowest kind nearly opposite the rooms occupied by the girl and her uncle. He was a complete tyrant, and would often beat his children in the most unmerciful manner. Their shrieks, which she was often doomed to hear, would always make her blood run cold, and inspired her with an inconceivable dread of the man who occasioned them. This her uncle well understood; and he was well aware that no threat which he could utter would make so deep an impression upon the child’s mind.
“You have your choice,” said he. “Shall I tell Brady Tim that you will come to-morrow morning? or will you go to Mr. Gregory’s?”
“I will go,” said the child, overawed.
“And you will follow my directions?”
“Yes.”
“Then preparations must instantly be made. I shall have to buy you a few things to have you go looking decently. Have you got a good bonnet?”