e on the hearth. All was
cold, dark, and cheerless in that place which had been called "home" by
the little girl; yet, cold, dark, and cheerless as it was, she still
felt glad to be there once more.

"_I_ will get a light, mother," said she, in a cheerful tone, running
to a closet, and taking thence a candle and a match.

In a moment or two afterwards the candle was burning brightly, and
throwing its light into every corner of that meanly-furnished room,
which contained but few articles, and they the simplest that were
needed. An old pine table, without leaves, three or four old chairs the
paint from which had long since disappeared, a bench and a water
bucket, with a few cooking utensils, made up the furniture of the
apartment.

A small fire was soon kindled on the hearth, over which the mother hung
a tea-kettle. When this had boiled, and she had drawn some tea, she
placed upon the table a few slices of bread and a piece of cheese,
which she took from a basket that she had borne on her arm. Then the
mother and child sat down to partake of their frugal meal, which both
eat with a keen relish.

"I'm so glad to get home again!" the little girl said, glancing up into
her mother's face, with a cheerful smile.

The mother looked upon her child with a tender expression, but did not
reply. She thought how poor and comfortless that home was which seemed
so desirable.

"I don't like to go to Mrs. Walker's," said the child, after the lapse
of a few moments.

"Why not, Jane?"

"Because I can't do any thing right there. Amy scolds me if I touch a
thing, and John won't let me go any place, except into the kitchen. I'm
sure I like home a great deal better, and I wish you would always stay
at home, mother."

"I would never go out, Jane, if I could help it," the mother replied,
in the effort to make her daughter understand, that she might acquiesce
in the necessity. "But you know that we must eat, and have clothes to
wear, and pay for the house we live in. I could not get the money to do
all this, if I did not go out to work in other people's houses, and
then we would be hungry, and cold, and not have any home to come to."

The little girl sighed and remained silent for a few moments. Then she
said, in a more cheerful tone,

"I know it's wrong for me to talk as I do, mother, and I'll try not to
complain any more. It's a great deal harder for you than it is for me
to go into these big people's houses. You have to work so