she could find in her pocket, as she spoke these words. Then, emptying her shells on the carpet, she drew forth a long stick of candy, and resettled herself to reading the story book.
The mother observed all these movements, her heart writhing with more cruel pain than her poor, spent body, even; and then, uttering a low, distressed groan, she turned, her face to the wall, silently praying for her disobedient child.
In the course of an hour, Bridget came in from the kitchen. Her honest Irish face flushed when she saw the litter around Nattie's chair. She cried, in a loud voice, which caused Mrs. Nesmith to turn toward her:
"Shure, and what is the use for the likes o' me to swape? when no better than an hour agone, I did the room up illegant, and now it looks more like a pig-sty than a sick lady's parlor, where she resaves her docther and all her fine visitors. Shurely, Mrs. Nasmith, ye won't be afther thinking that poor Biddy will stay along wid yees,
