n despair.
"Believe it or not as you please, I have come here to-day to help you if
I can. I have come because there was something in your face, a look in
your eyes, that day you left us that has haunted me ever since. I have
come because I feared you were in trouble and were too proud to tell us
so. Julie, for twenty years I have been forewoman of my department over
there in the factory. Many, many girls have worked with me, new ones
coming, old ones going all the time. Some have left for one reason, some
for another, but never before has one gone from me in anger or disgrace.
All my girls have loved me, Julie, and I loved them. Why was it I never
could win you, win your trust and confidence. Was I not kind to you,
child? I tried to be for I wanted your love and trust."

The flashing eyes and angry face of the girl softened a little as the
woman continued:

"I know you are not a bad girl, Julie. I know that you never before
stole anything. I have been thinking of you all this week and worrying
about you, for it must have been some great trouble which induced you to
take that money. Why did you take it, child? Won't you please tell me?"

"You ask me why I take it? Well, I will tell you. Do you know what is in
that room just behind this very door I lean against? It is my mother.
She will never move again, never speak to me again; she is dead. Yes,
she died last night but I not tell no one. If I tell, they will take her
away and bury her I not know where. I have no money to bury her myself.
Pretty soon I will have to tell, then they bury her in a pauper's grave
with other people poor like us. I not know where they put her; I never
can go and kneel at her grave and whisper to her that I have not
forgotten.

"You want to know why I steal that money? Well, a week ago poor mother
she is so very sick. They tell me she cannot live many days; but I think
if only I have money I can save her yet. I can have doctors to see her,
big doctors who will go to sick people only for very much money. I can
buy her food and medicine and perhaps send her away to some place where
the sun will shine for her, where she can breathe God's pure air. Why
even strong people can scarce live in a place like this where the
sunshine never come, where it is cold and damp all the time. How can the
poor little mother hope to grow well again in such a place, without good
food, often without a fire, the air not fit for anyone to breathe. I
think of it all