“Well, Mrs. Carr, death can be only gain to her.”
“Very true; still, the idea of losing her seems dreadful to me.”
“How does Mary get on at Mrs. Owring's?”
“Not very well; she has been at work for her just one month to-day; and although she gave her to understand that her wages would be at least a dollar and a quarter a week, yet to-night, when she settled with her, she wouldn't give her but three dollars, and at the same time told her that if she didn't choose to work for that she could go.”
“What do you suppose was the reason for her acting so?”
“I don't know, indeed, unless it is because she does not get there quite as early as the rest of her hands; for you see I am obliged to keep her a little while in the morning to help me to move Annie while I make her bed. Even that little sum, small it was, would have been some help to us, but it had all to go for rent. My landlord would take no denial. But I must go; you think I can depend on receiving your money to-night?”
“I do. Mrs. Allison is always prompt in paying for her work as soon as it is done. I will not trouble you to come again for it, Mrs. Carr. Laura shall bring it over to you.”
Let us now turn to the young girl we left at Mr. Allison's, whom our readers, no doubt, recognise as Laura Perry.
“Good evening, Laura,” said Mrs. Allison, as she entered the room; “not brought my work home already! I did not look for it till next week. You and your mother, I am afraid, confine yourselves too closely to your needles for your own good. But you have not had your tea? sit up, and take some.”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Allison; mother will be uneasy if I stay long.”