CHAPTER XXXIII.

A NEW HOME.

Dainty dragged herself slowly along the snowy street, almost exhausted

by the weight of the hand-bag; and she wondered pathetically if it might

not be best to follow her mother's example, and seek refuge from life's

woes by the straight gate of death?

"Dear mother, if I only knew where to find the lonely grave where

strangers laid you, I would stretch myself upon it and die!" she sobbed,

the tears in her cheeks mixing with the melting snow, as it flew into

her pale face, driven by the bleak December gale.

She crept presently into a quiet area-way, and somewhat sheltered from

the driving storm, pondered on what she was to do now, without friends

and without money, in a cold, suspicious world.

Presently she heard girlish chatter and tittering, and glancing through

a window, saw several young girls busy at sewing-machines, directed by

an angular spinster whom she took to be a dress-maker.

A sudden temptation seized her, and she rapped timidly on the basement

door, bringing the spinster hurriedly to it.

"Do you want a dress made?" she inquired, glancing at Dainty's hand-bag.

"No, madame. I am in search of work. Do you wish another hand to sew?"

faltered Dainty.

"Um! yes--I don't know. Bring in your valise, and let us talk it over;"

ushering her into a tiny, cozy kitchen, where they could talk in

private.

"Now, then, what's your name, and how came you out hunting work in the

face of such weather? Tell the truth," she said, suspiciously; and

Dainty obeyed.

"I have been employed to help nurse some children, and was discharged

to-day. My name is Miss Chase."

"Did you bring a recommendation?" sharply.

"No, ma'am; but I think I can refer you to Miss Ailsa Scott, on this

same street. It was her mother's children I was nursing; but the father

sent me away."

"I know Mr. Sparks. Why did he send you away?"

"I would rather not tell."

"Then I can not give you work!" curtly.

"Oh, madame, I am ashamed to tell you! The man wanted to marry me, and

his poor wife dead but a few months! I refused with scorn, and he drove

me away," the girl answered, wearily.

"Humph! I can't see what he wanted with a chit like you for a wife," the

spinster returned, tossing her false frizzes disparagingly, and adding:

"I do need another hand, but the pay is too much. I can not afford it."

"Oh, madame, I would work for my board awhile, if you will let me stay

here!" pleaded Dainty, eagerly; and the woman answered:

"I don't know but that would suit me very well. I live here by myself,

all the girls going home in the evenings. You may take off your things,

and I'll get some work ready for you. But, mind, I'll call on Ailsa

Scott to-night, and unless you have spoken the truth, out you go in the

morning."

"I have only spoken the truth, madame," Dainty sighed, as she obeyed the

commands, and soon found herself seated among the busy sewing girls,

basting away on a ruffle, and thanking God in her heart for even this

poor shelter that must be paid for with constant toil.

The girls all seemed to be gay enough, in spite of their poverty; but

Dainty, poor, nervous girl, was glad when they went away at sunset, and

left her alone with Miss White, as she found the name of her employer to

be.

The spinster was not more than forty, and rather good-looking, in spite

of her angularity. She asked Dainty many questions about Sparks,

betraying quite a lively interest in the widower; and by and by she

dressed herself smartly in a black silk gown and red bonnet, and went

off to get Dainty's character from Ailsa Scott, leaving the girl alone

in the house, save for some tenants in the upper part.

Dainty was very tired and sad; but she washed the tea-things and put

them away, and lay down on the lounge in the sewing-room, with a sigh of

relief at the chance to rest.