"Very true. Well, Nelly, I will ask Mrs. Kirkland to run over your account. She is very busy; but no doubt she will make time, as the need is so urgent. Come down to the desk with me."
Mrs. Kirkland was very busy, trying to be on three different floors and in six different places all at once; but on hearing the story, she left all, and calculated Nelly's account, while the child stood waiting between fear and hope.
"Well, Nelly, how much do you think I owe you?"
Nelly guessed about eighteen dollars.
"More than that, Nelly. I owe you twenty-five dollars and a half: twenty-two fifty for tatting, and the rest for work that you have done here in the store."
Nelly drew a long breath. "I did not think it was near so much. I did not think what I did in the store was any thing. I never expected to be paid for that."
"But I meant to pay you, my dear. You were a great help to me, and you did your work faithfully and well. I hope you may do a great deal more yet. Here is your money."
Nelly could hardly believe her eyes or her fingers as she turned over the three clean bills,—two tens and a five. She had never had a tenth part as much in her hands before.
"Now go on and see Mr. Grayson," said Miss Powell; "and do not be frightened if he is a little rough at first. I do not think he is a bad man; though he is often hard and harsh in his manners. I would go with you, if I could. But I cannot be spared; and, after all, perhaps you will do better alone."
You may guess how Nelly's heart beat as she ascended the stairs which led to Mr. Grayson's office. A sort of mist seemed to swim before her eyes as she opened the door and entered; and it was half a minute before she could distinguish objects. When she could, she saw an old gentleman sitting at a desk, near an open fire, and busily engaged in writing. He just glanced round, and, seeing a little girl standing at the door, he said, hastily,—