That night the child came home to her mother, and gave a history of her treatment.  Her lacerated back was sufficient evidence how cruelly she had been punished.  The little thing was in a high fever, and moaned and talked in her sleep all night.

Finding that the child was not sent back in the morning, Mrs. Williams wished to know the reason, and was told the real condition of Emily.

“She’s a bad child, Sally, and has no doubt deserved a whipping!  You have spoiled your older children by mistaken kindness, and will spoil the rest.  But I can tell you very distinctly that I am not going to be a party in this matter, and will not consent that Emily stay here any longer.  So, if you don’t send her back to Mrs. Tompkins, you may get her a place somewhere else, for after this week she shall not stay here.  She has almost ruined my Clara, now!”

To this, poor Mrs. Haller made no reply.  Her home at our house had only been endured because there she thought she could keep her babes with her.  She left the presence of her unfeeling sister, and began to study how she could manage to support herself and two children by her own unaided exertions.  Many plans were suggested to her mind, but none seemed to promise success.  At length she resolved to rent a small room, and put into it a bed, a table, and a few chairs, with some other necessary articles which she still had, and then buy some kind of vegetables with about five dollars that were due her, and go to market as a huckster!  Let not the sentimental and romantic turn away in disgust.  When humanity is reduced to a last resource, be it what it may, the heart endures pains, and doubts, and fears of a like character, whether the resource be that offered to a noble lady, or a lonely widow.

Before Saturday night, Mrs. Haller had found a room near the market that just suited her, which she rented at two dollars a month with the use of the cellar.  When she made known to Mrs. Williams her intention of leaving her house, and told her how she intended to make a living, the latter was almost speechless with surprise.

“Surely, Sally,” said she, “you cannot be in earnest?”

“Indeed I am in earnest, though?”

“But consider the disgrace it will be to your family.”

“Nothing is disgraceful that is honest.”

“I never will consent to your being a huckster:—­Sally! if you do so disgrace yourself as to stand in the market and sell potatoes and cabbages, I will disown you!  You have a comfortable home here, and where then is the use of your exposing yourself in the market-house?”

“You will not let Emily stay here with me, and I cannot part with my poor babes.”  A flood of tears burst forth, even though she struggled hard to conceal them.

“You are very weak and foolish, Sally.  Emily will be much better off, away from you.  She is growing up a spoiled child, and needs other care than yours.  You are too indulgent.”