Clara went to her mother and kissed her tenderly, whispering, “Courage, momsy, I’ve got something nice for you.”  Then she turned and said, “You are too excited, Belle.  I’ll do everything, and make the little we have go a great way.  You would waste things.  I know just what to do, only give me time,” and she soaked some of the bread in the milk and began feeding her mother, who swallowed with great difficulty.

“I’ll take no more—­till—­I see you—­eat something,” gasped the poor woman.  “Who gave you all this?  Who’s that?” pointing feebly at Belle.

“I’m the girl that took Clara’s place,” Belle began, with a fresh burst of sobs.  “I didn’t know I was doing it, and now I’ll never forgive myself.”

Clara looked at her wonderingly as she explained:  “The foreman said you asked Mr. Schriven to make a place for you, but I don’t believe you meant that he should ‘sack’ me to do it.  Why, you are nothing but a great, warm-hearted child.  The girls said you were ‘knowing,’ and could ‘play as deep a game as the next one,’ and that the foreman about the same as owned it to them.  It’s all his doing and his master’s.  They both care more for a yard of ribbon than for a girl, body and soul.”

“Well,” said Belle, with bitter emphasis, “I’ll never work for them again—­never, never.”

“Don’t say that,” resumed Clara, after coaxing her mother to take a little more nourishment, and then sitting down to eat something herself.  “If you are poor you must do the best you can.  Now that I know you I’d rather you had my place than any one else, for”—­she gave a swift glance at her mother’s closed eyes, and then whispered in Belle’s ear—­“I couldn’t keep it much longer.  For the last two weeks it has seemed I’d drop on the floor where you stood to-day, and every night I’ve had harder work to climb these stairs.  Oh, Lord!  I wish mother and I could both stay here now till we’re carried down together feet foremost.”

“Don’t talk that way,” pleaded Belle, beginning to cry again.  “We’ll all do for you now, and you both will get better.”

“Who’s ‘we all’?  Would you mind telling me a little about who you are, and how you came to get my place?”

Belle’s brief sketch of herself, her history, and how the recent events had come about, was very simple, but strong and original, and left no doubt in her listener’s mind.

“My gracious!” Clara cried, as the room darkened, “your folks’ll be wild about you.  I’ve nothing to offer you but your own, and I’ve kept you talking when you must have been tired and hungry, but you are so full of life that you put a bit of life in me.  It’s ages since I felt as you do, and I’ll never feel so again.  Now run home with your mind at rest.  You have done us more good than you have harm, and you never meant us any harm at all.”

“Indeed I did not,” cried Belle, “but I’m not through with you yet.  I’ll bring Millie back with me and a lot of things,” and she darted away.