But to return to our story.  The clerk looked pityingly at Mrs. Wentworth for a moment, then walked to the door of Mr. Swartz’s office, and knocked.

The door was opened.

“There is a lady here who wants to see you on private business,” he said with emphasis.

“Shust tell de lady I will see her in a few minutes,” replied the voice of Mr. Swartz, from the interior of the room.

The clerk withdrew, after closing the door, and advanced to where Mrs. Wentworth was standing.

“Mr. Swartz will see you in a few moments, he said.”

“Go back for me, and tell him my business is urgent, and will admit of no delay,” she answered.

Her thoughts were of the little girl, who lay ill on the bed in the negro’s cabin, and to whom she had promised to return quickly.

The clerk withdrew, and announced her wishes, to his employer.

“Vell,” said Mr. Swartz.  “Tell her to come in.”

She walked up to the door, and as she reached the threshold it opened and Mr. Elder, stood before her.  She spoke not a word as he started from surprise at her unexpected appearance.  She only gazed upon him for awhile with a calm and steady gaze.  Hastily dropping his eyes to the ground, Mr. Elder recovered his usual composure, and brushing past the soldier’s wife left the store, while she entered the office where Mr. Swartz was.

“Oot tam,” he muttered as she entered.  “I shall give dat clerk te tevil for sending dis voman to me.  Sum peggar I vill pet.”

“I have called on you again, Mr. Swartz,” Mrs. Wentworth began.

Mr. Swartz looked at her as if trying to remember where they had met before, but he failed to recognize her features.

“I don’t know dat you vash here to see me pefore,” he replied.

“You do not recognize me,” she remarked, and then added:  “I am the lady who sold her last piece of furniture to you some time ago.”

He frowned as she reminded him who she was, for he then surmised what the object of her visit was.

“Oh!” he answered, “I recollect you now, and vat do you vant?”

“I have come upon the same errand,” she replied.  “I have come once more to ask you to aid me, but this time come barren of anything to induce you to comply with my request.  Nothing but the generous promptings of your heart can I hold up before you to extend the charity I now solicit.”

“You have come here to peg again,” he observed, “but I cannot give you anything.  Gootness! ven vill te place pe rid of all te peggers?”

“I cannot help my position,” she said.  “A cruel fortune has deprived my of him who used to support me, and I am now left alone with my children to eke out the wretched existence of a pauper.  Last night I was turned out of my room by the man who left here a few seconds ago, because I could not pay for my rent.  One of my children was sick, but he cared not for that.  I told him of my poverty, and he turned a deaf ear towards me.  I was forced to leave, and my child has become worse from exposure in the night air.”