better, indeed, than some of the children at school,—­ and I didn’t know why it shouldn’t always be so.  Besides, I was a vain child; I thought myself clever; I had even begun to look at myself in the glass and think I was handsome.  It seemed quite natural that every one should be kind and indulgent to me.  I shall never forget the feeling I had when the landlady spoke to me in that hard, sharp way.  My whole idea of the world was overset all at once; I seemed to be in a miserable dream.  I sat in my mother’s bedroom hour after hour, and, every step I heard on the stairs, I thought it must be my mother coming back home to me;—­it was impossible to believe that I was left alone, and could look to no one for help and comfort.”

“Next morning the landlady came up to me again, and said, if I liked, she could tell me of a way of earning my living.  It was by going as a servant to an eating-house in a street close by, where they wanted some one to wash up dishes and do different kinds of work not too hard for a child like me.  I could only do as I was advised; I went at once, and was engaged.  They took off the dress I was wearing, which was far too good for me then, and gave me a dirty, ragged one; then I was set to work at once to clean some knives.  Nothing was said about wages or anything of that kind; only I understood that I should live in the house, and have all given me that I needed.  Of course I was very awkward.  I tried my very hardest to do everything that was set me, but only got scolding for my pains; and it soon came to boxes on the ear, and even kicks.  The place was kept by a man and wife; they had a daughter older than I, and they treated her just like a hired servant.  I used to sleep with the girl in a wretched kitchen underground, and the poor thing kept me awake every night with crying and complaining of her hard life.  It was no harder than mine, and I can’t think she felt it more; but I had even then a kind of stubborn pride which kept me from showing what I suffered.  I couldn’t have borne to let them see what a terrible change it was for me, all this drudgery and unkindness; I felt it would have been like taking them into my confidence, opening my heart to them, and I despised them too much for that.  I even tried to talk in a rough rude way, as if I had never been used to anything better—­”

“That was fine, that was heroic!” broke in Waymark admiringly.

“I only know it was miserable enough.  And things got worse instead of better.  The master was a coarse drunken brute, and he and his wife used to quarrel fearfully.  I have seen them throw knives at each other, and do worse things than that, too.  The woman seemed somehow to have a spite against me from the first, and the way her husband behaved to me made her hate me still more.  Child as I was, he did and said things which made her jealous.  Often when she had gone out of an evening, I had to defend myself against him, and call the daughter to