"Oh, no! I cannot do that! I cannot be separated from my dear little children. Who will care for them like a mother?"
"It is hard, I know, Mrs. Mayberry. But necessity is a stern ruler. You cannot keep them with you—that is certain. You have not the strength to provide them with even the coarsest food. In an asylum, with a kind matron, they will be better off than under any other circumstances."
But Mrs. Mayberry shook her head.
"No—no—no," she replied—"I cannot think of such a thing. I cannot be separated from them. I shall soon be able to work again—better able than before."
The neighbor who felt deeply for her, did not urge the matter. When Hiram returned at dinner-time, his face had in it a more animated expression than usual.
"Mother," he said, as soon as he came in, "I heard to-day that a boy was wanted at the Gazette office, who could write a good hand. The wages are to be four dollars a week."
"You did!" Mrs. Mayberry said, quickly, her weak frame trembling, although she struggled hard to be composed.
"Yes. And Mr. Easy is well acquainted with the publisher, and could get me the place, I am sure."
"Then go and see him at once, Hiram. If you can secure it, all will be well; if not, your little brothers and sisters will have to be separated, perhaps sent into an orphan asylum."
Mrs. Mayberry covered her face with her hands, and sobbed bitterly for some moments.