“Now take that cup and get me some water!” he cries, in a loud voice, “and if you are not here with it in a minute, I’ll beat the life half out of you!  I’ll teach you to mind when your spoken to, I will!  There!  Off with you!”

Little Kate, smarting from pain, and trembling with fear, lifts the cup and hurries away to perform her errand.  She drops it twice from her unsteady hands ere she is able to convey it, filled with water, to her parent, who takes it with such a threatening look from his eyes, that the child shrinks away from him, and goes from the room in fear.

An hour passes, and the light of day begins to fade.

Evening comes slowly on, and at length the darkness closes in.  But twice since morning has Warren been from the house, and then it was to get something to drink.  The door at length opens quietly, and a, little girl enters.  Her face is thin and drooping, and wears a look of patient suffering.

“You’re late, Anna,” says the mother, kindly.

“Yes, ma’am.  We had to stay later for our money.  Mr. Davis was away from the store, and I was afraid I would have to come home without it.  Here it is.”

Mrs. Warren took the money.

“Only a dollar!” There was disappointment in her tones as she said this.

“Yes, ma’am, that is all,” replied Anna, in a troubled voice.  “I spoiled some work, and Mr. Davis said I should pay for it, and so he took half a dollar from my wages.”

“Spoiled your work!” spoke up the father, who had been listening.  “That’s more of your abominable carelessness!”

“Indeed, father; I couldn’t help it,” said Anna, “one of the girls—­”

“Hush up, will you!  I want none of your lying excuses.  I know you!  It was done on purpose, I have not the least doubt.”

Anna caught her breath, like one suddenly deprived of air.  Tears rushed to her eyes and commenced falling over her cheeks, while her bosom rose and fell convulsively.

“Come, now!  None of that!” said the cruel father sternly.  “Stop your crying instantly, or I will give you something to cry for!  A pretty state of things, indeed, when every word must be answered by a fit of crying!”

The poor child choked down her feelings as best she could, turning as she did so from her father; that he might not see the still remaining traces of her grief which it was impossible at once to hide.

Not a single dollar had the idle, drunken father earned during the week, that he had not expended in self-indulgence; and yet, in his brutality, he could roughly chide this little girl, yet too young for the taskmaster, because she had lost half a dollar of her week’s earnings through an accident, the very nature of which he would not hear explained.  So grieved was the poor child at this unkindness, that when supper was on the table she shrunk away from the room.

“Come, Anna, to your supper,” called the mother.