Miss Ailsa Scott, on this
same street. It was her mother's children I was nursing; but the father
sent me away."

"I know Mr. Sparks. Why did he send you away?"

"I would rather not tell."

"Then I can not give you work!" curtly.

"Oh, madame, I am ashamed to tell you! The man wanted to marry me, and
his poor wife dead but a few months! I refused with scorn, and he drove
me away," the girl answered, wearily.

"Humph! I can't see what he wanted with a chit like you for a wife," the
spinster returned, tossing her false frizzes disparagingly, and adding:
"I do need another hand, but the pay is too much. I can not afford it."

"Oh, madame, I would work for my board awhile, if you will let me stay
here!" pleaded Dainty, eagerly; and the woman answered:

"I don't know but that would suit me very well. I live here by myself,
all the girls going home in the evenings. You may take off your things,
and I'll get some work ready for you. But, mind, I'll call on Ailsa
Scott to-night, and unless you have spoken the truth, out you go in the
morning."

"I have only spoken the truth, madame," Dainty sighed, as she obeyed the
commands, and soon found herself seated among the busy sewing girls,
basting away on a ruffle, and thanking God in her heart for even this
poor shelter that must be paid for with constant toil.

The girls all seemed to be gay enough, in spite of their poverty; but
Dainty, poor, nervous girl, was glad when they went away at sunset, and
left her alone with Miss White, as she found the name of her employer to
be.

The spinster was not more than forty, and rather good-looking, in spite
of her angularity. She asked Dainty many questions about Sparks,
betraying quite a lively interest in the widower; and by and by she
dressed herself smartly in a black silk gown and red bonnet, and went
off to get Dainty's character from Ailsa Scott, leaving the girl alone
in the house, save for some tenants in the upper part.

Dainty was very tired and sad; but she washed the tea-things and put
them away, and lay down on the lounge in the sewing-room, with a sigh of
relief at the chance to rest.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THROWN ON THE WORLD.

Poor Dainty was always tired and sad now. She had never been very strong
since her illness in the mountains.

Her face was always thin and pale, her blue eyes hollow, with dark
circles beneath them, while her breath was short and palpitating. She
knew that she was strangely ill,