“It is long since I had much color,” said Martha. “You have enough for us both.”
“Then you must go out and get some. But I mustn’t stop a minute longer; I must go up and tell papa;” and she bounded up stairs with a light heart, little suspecting what had taken place during her absence.
What was her surprise to find her father listlessly looking out of the window into the little court below, and otherwise quite unoccupied.
“What is the matter, papa?” inquired Helen, in apprehension; “and where,” for the first time noticing the absence of the work which usually engaged her father,—“where is your machine?”
“It is gone, my child,” said Mr. Ford, despondently.
“Gone! what do you mean, papa? You have not got discouraged, and sent it away?”
“Discouraged! No, Helen; on the contrary, I never felt nearer success than I did a few hours since. But all is changed now.”
“What has become of it, papa?” questioned Helen, in increasing alarm.
“It has been seized for debt, Helen.”
“For debt?”