living, and they would bring almost nothing at
auction."

They thanked their careful friend for her foresight. But when she
brought forward their mother's gold watch and diamond ring, Rosa said,
"I would rather not keep such expensive things, dear friend. You know
our dear father was the soul of honor. It would have troubled him
greatly not to pay what he owed. I would rather have the ring and the
watch sold to pay his debts."

"I will tell the creditors what you say," answered Madame, "and they
will be brutes if they don't let you keep your mother's things. Your
father owed Signor Papanti a little bill, and he says he will try to
get the table and boxes, and some other things, in payment, and then
you shall have them all. You will earn enough to buy another piano by
and by, and you can use mine, you know; so don't be discouraged, my
poor children."

"God has been very good to us to raise us up such friends as you and
the Signor," replied Rosa. "You don't know how it comforts me to have
you call us your children, for without you we should be all alone in
the world."

CHAPTER V.

Such sudden reverses, such overwhelming sorrows, mature characters
with wonderful rapidity. Rosa, though formed by nature and habit to
cling to others, soon began to form plans for future support. Her
inexperienced mind foresaw few of the difficulties involved in the
career her friends had suggested. She merely expected to study and
work hard; but that seemed a trifle, if she could avoid for herself
and her sister the publicity which their father had so much dreaded.

Floracita, too, seemed like a tamed bird. She was sprightly as ever in
her motions, and quick in her gestures; but she would sit patiently at
her task of embroidery, hour after hour, without even looking up to
answer the noisy challenges of the parrot. Sometimes the sisters,
while they worked, sang together the hymns they had been accustomed
to sing with their father on Sundays; and memory of the missing voice
imparted to their tones a pathos that no mere skill could imitate.

One day, when they were thus occupied, the door-bell rang, and they
heard a voice, which they thought they recognized, talking with
Madame. It was Franz Blumenthal. "I have come to bring some small
articles for the young ladies," said he. "A week before my best
friend died, a Frenchwoman came to the store, and wished to sell some
fancy-baskets. She said she was a poor widow; and Mr. Royal, wh