ck, and emptied the old bones and rugs and
papers on the floor of her room, and kept a broom handle to whip the
little Flanigans, who ran in to steal them, when she went to the pump
in the alley to get a drink of water.

Then, there was little Pat Rourke, who lived up the alley, and kept a
little black dog named Pompey. When Pat didn't know what else to do, he
would open Betsey's door, and put the dog in to worry her cat, and
enjoy Betsey's fright.

Pompey would chase Pussy all round the room, and then Pussy would spit
at him, and hump up her back and hide behind the wash-tub; and then
Pompey would turn over the wash-tub, and seize Pussy by the neck; and
then her eyes would turn all green; and then Betsey would scream and
beg Pat to drive Pompey off; and then Pat would point to her lame foot
and say, "Let's see you do it _yourself_, honey;" and then Betsey would
hide her face under the coverlid and cry; and then Pat would run off,
leaving the door wide open, and the cold air blowing right upon the
bed. Yes, Betsey had all this to amuse her, besides the torn newspaper
and the old almanac.

But why _didn't_ her mother come home?--that was the question. It must
be late in the afternoon;--Betsey knew _that_, for the sun had crept
round to the west window long since. They must have a great wash to do
up at the big house. Betsey hoped the lady wouldn't go out to ride in
her carriage, and forget, as she sometimes did, to pay her mother; and
she hoped the cook would give her some cold tea to warm for their
supper, and perhaps a bit of meat, or some potatoes. The lady herself
never gave Betsey's mother anything, except an old gauze ball dress "to
make over for her little girl," which Betsey's mother sold for
twenty-five cents, to buy some tea.

And then Betsey wondered if rich people were always born without
hearts, and if her foot would _always_ be lame, and she should never be
able to help her mother, but must always be a burden; and then she
thought it would be better if she died; and then she thought _not_,
because when her mother came home at night ever so weary, she
remembered that she always kissed her cheek, and called her "a little
darling," and divided her piece of bread with her, and smiled just as
sweetly as if she hadn't worked ever since the sun rose, for a mere
penny.

Then Betsey was so weary that she fell asleep, and dreamed she was an
angel. She was not lame any longer; she had bright wings, and a pure
w