efore she had recovered, the lawyer entered.
That day a new will was made; and the lawyer politely informed Mrs.
Boxer that her services would be dispensed with the next morning, when
he should bring a nurse to the house. Mrs. Boxer heard, and
took her resolution. As soon as Simon again fell asleep,
she crept into the room-led away Fanny--locked her up in her own
chamber--returned--searched for the key of the bureau, which she found
at last under Simon's pillow--possessed herself of all she could lay her
hands on--and the next morning she had disappeared forever! Simon's loss
was greater than might have been supposed; for, except a trifling sum in
the savings bank, he, like many other misers, kept all he had, in notes
or specie, under his own lock and key. His whole fortune, indeed, was
far less than was supposed: for money does not make money unless it is
put out to interest,--and the miser cheated himself. Such portion as was
in bank-notes Mrs. Boxer probably had the prudence to destroy; for those
numbers which Simon could remember were never traced; the gold, who
could swear to? Except the pittance in the savings bank, and whatever
might be the paltry worth of the house he rented, the father who had
enriched the menial to exile the son was a beggar in his dotage. This
news, however, was carefully concealed from him by the advice of the
doctor, whom, on his own responsibility, the lawyer introduced, till
he had recovered sufficiently to bear the shock without danger; and the
delay naturally favoured Mrs. Boxer's escape.

Simon remained for some moments perfectly stunned and speechless when
the news was broken to him. Fanny, in alarm at his increasing paleness,
sprang to his breast. He pushed her away,--"Go--go--go, child," he said;
"I can't feed you now. Leave me to starve."

"To starve!" said Fanny, wonderingly; and she stole away, and sat
herself down as if in deep thought. She then crept up to the lawyer
as he was about to leave the room, after exhausting his stock of
commonplace consolation; and putting her hand in his, whispered, "I want
to talk to you--this way:"--She led him through the passage into the
open air. "Tell me," she said, "when poor people try not to starve,
don't they work?"

"My dear, yes."

"For rich people buy poor people's work?"

"Certainly, my dear; to be sure."

"Very well. Mrs. Boxer used to sell my work. Fanny will feed grandpapa!
Go and tell him never to say 'starve' again."

The