nnoticed, and the first
object that met her sight was one of her mother's large trunks, open and
empty, with the price marked upon the top. Around the room she saw the
others, and the contents, so precious to her from association with her
deceased parent, were hanging about upon pegs, looking ashamed of their
positions. Horrified, the little girl ran up to Smith: "these are my
things," she said; "how dare you put them into the shop?" "You had
better hush up, little vixen," replied the man, "or I'll take the very
clothes from off your back. You don't think I am going to keep you
without receiving board, do you?" "But I'm not going to stay here. I'll
go back to the ship--the Captain will _make_ you give me my things,"
cried the child, bursting into passionate tears. "Go--I'd like nothing
better; go back to Boston as fast as you can, cry-baby, and give my
compliments to the gentleman who cheated me into taking you," replied
Smith, with his odious smile. "Then why will you not take me to my
uncle? I don't want to stay in this horrid place." "Take care, or you'll
get into a worse--as for your uncle, I saw in the paper yesterday an
account of his death, so you need have no hopes from him." "Dead! all
dead!" said Margaret, sinking down into the nearest seat, for her head
swam, and her knees trembled so that she could not stand. "Yes, he's
dead as a door nail--no mistake about that. So you had better not be
troublesome, or you won't fare as well as you do. Here, Jackson," he
said to a rough, bloated-looking, elderly countryman, who had been
purchasing some old furniture, and had now re-entered the shop, "didn't
you say that you wanted a little girl to do your work?" "Yes, I did,"
replied the man, "my old woman is not worth any thing any more. But I
must have some one that will not be interfered with: I intend to get an
orphan from the alms-house, that will suit me best." "Here is an orphan,
who is the very thing: she has no relations or friends in the world, and
I'm rather tired of keeping her--I'll give her to you for nothing."
"That would do, but she does not look like a poor child: she is dressed
like a little lady, and her hands are small and white, as if she wasn't
used to rough work." "She _is_ dressed up more than she should be, but
you can soon mend that; and I'll answer for it, she'll learn to do the
rough work soon enough." "Well, I'll take her: have her bundle ready by
the afternoon, and I'll call for her in the wagon,