Year: 1879

was absolutely absurd.' Sitting in a
pretty room, amid mass Of pretty femi-
nine knick-knacks and brick-a-brac,
hearing the rattle Of knives and forks
come up on the air from the table below :;
and yet to be hungry was positively,
maddeningly incongruous, she thought.
To be sure there was no reason why she
should not have gone to the landlady and
explained her situation and been sure OF
proper treatment, but they had been in
! the house but few days, and had been
taking their meals out at neighboring
restaurant. Bessie's mother had been
called away to visit sister who was i'll,
and she had left her little girl alone, not
without misgivings, and tie night before
Bessie had lost her purs or had her
pocket picked coming from din
ner; at any rate it was gone, and with II
the money which was to have bought
her food for the next two days, A prac-
tical woman would have done the obvi
Gus thing and interviewed her landlady.
But Bessie was even more than most
women sensitive about going to strangers
when in trouble, especially about money
matters, and feared to encounter suspi-
cion; so she went without her breakfast,
and at lunch-time was ravenously hun
cry. What curse good appetite is at
times! Then it occurred to her that she
had heard her cousin Tom joke about
his Uncle" and she knew that lie was
alluding to pawnbroker. What hor,,
rid thing pawnbroker must be. a kind
of a crop between Shylock and Fagin,
she thought, and they would ogle her
perhaps. Oh, no! Shed starve before
She would go there. But as the afternoon
wore on and hunger increased, and with
it her perpleXity, she began to cry. But
crying didn't help matters any; on the
contrary, the pangs of hunger rather in
creased, and with them her determine
ton to find her cousin Toms "Uncle."
She resolved that no one but herself
should ever know Of her perplexity,
"not even mamma, nor of her visit to
the pawnbroker's-nevert that"
From under q mass OF ribbons and laces,
artificial flowers and dainty lace hand
kerchiefs, tumbled into bureau-drawer,
she tished outa small box, and took from
it queer old locket. 1t was q carved
cameo, surrounded by brilliant
ly enamele1 snake with ruby eyes, and on
the back the initials NJ. E., and under
meath, V. ID. V.


"Poor old grandma; how Mortified
you would be if you only knew, and
hadn't been dead these ten years" she
said to herself softly, as she put the
locket back in its case, and ran down
stairs in the late summer afternoon.


It was q long walk down Broadway,
the payements were hot and scorched
her feet, her face grew flushed with exer-
ton, and her black curls clung damply
to her white forehead. Besides, she was
weak from long fasting. She thought at
last that she did not know were she was
going, but she mustered up courage to
ask a policeman. He eyed her curiously.
but told her civilly enough where to go.
Hot waves of crimson dyed her face
and neck as she passed in at the doorway
under the trio of golden balls, and stood
at the counter. She heal.l poor woman
refused the amount she begged for
on IN old shawl. 1t was moth-eaten,
and they did not want it any price.


Then voice said:


"Wen, miss ?''


She produced the locket.


"How much?" After n hurried eX-
animation she was relieved to see that
the man took to her novel situation cool
ly enough, and she spoke for the first
time.


"Ten dollars, please"


The money was counted out, she gave
dollar OF it to the poor woman
whose shawl had been rejected and who
still stood in dazed way on the side
walk, escaped from her thanks into u
Fourth avenue car, and was soon bath
ing in her cool room, and forgetful, now
that she had money, of her hunger.


Just then a note reached her.


DEAREST BESSIE: Do come over and dine.
Fred and arc in town for a day or two. In
haste, thine.


No. % West 44th street. MARIE.


"Put money in thy purse and thou
shalt be invited to dinner" thought Bes-
sic, as she mentally resolved to 90 at
once to her old scllool-fellow and her
husband.