took up the loaf of bread which still lay there; but throwing it instantly down, said, "That bread is stale."

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We can't buy fresh bread," said Mrs. Conroy. “It makes more waste than this."

"I should think, when you give a fellow nothing but dry bread, it might as well be fresh," said he, sullenly.

Rosy looked up with flashing eyes. There were angry words on her lips, but the next moment she bent her head down again without speaking.

“You might have what you like to eat, if you chose, Will," said the father.

live so

""Tis your own fault you poor. You ought to work and earn wages like an honest man."

"I aint going to work for nobody," said Will; "su there's no use talking."

"You needn't tell us that," said Rosy, turning upon him suddenly. "We all know that though you're a big, strong fellow, you're just mean enough to steal your living from your poor blind father, rather than work for yourself!" She was trembling with passion as she stood before him, with her eyes fixed on his sullen face.

Will looked at her for a moment with a sneering smile, and then moved away, saying, "This is your second fury to-day. You're getting mighty pious, aint you?"

The child's whole aspect changed instantly. Her upraised hand fell slowly to her side, her eye lost its indignant flash, and, without answering a single word, she took Robbie by the hand and went away into the closet in which they slept; and when she had undressed the boy, and laid him in the bed, she laid down beside him, and cried as if her heart would break. He first impulse to resentment had been controlled, but the second had been stronger, and had overcome her before she had time to resist it; and she had given Will an opportunity to sneer at her efforts to follow in the footsteps of her Master. Poor little child! those fast-flowing tears were very bitter.

By-and-by, when she had cried herself into a more quiet state of feeling, she began to think what it was best for her to do. It was harder now than ever to ask Will's pardon, and yet she could not still that voice within which urged her to the task. For a long while she lay there thinking. All was still in the outer room, and she tried to persuade herself that Will was asleep, and would be angry if she waked him; and she tried to sleep, too. But it would not do. That small voice whispered, at first in low tones, then louder and louder, until at last, with a sudden resolution, she rose from the bed, knelt down for one moment to ask her Saviour for the help she needed to do His will, and then crept out into the front room. Will was sitting before the stove. He raised his head with a start when he heard the patter of her bare feet on the boards.

"What are you about? Go back to your bed!" he said, sharply.

"I will in a moment," she said, humbly. "We must talk softly, or we 'll wake father and mother. I'm so sorry that I was cross and angry to-day. Will you forgive me?"

"Humph," said the boy, "that's all very well. You're mighty sorry now, but the next time you fly into a passion it'll be the same old story. You get into a tantrum, and hit or knock me as you like, and think that all you've got to do is to come crying, and say, 'Please forgive me,'" and he imitated the tremulous tones of her voice. "No, I won't forgive you! I don't believe in your kind of pious. Go off to bed!"

“O Will, please do," she said, beseechingly.

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I won't! There, do you hear what I say? Now go, or I'll make you."

He started up with a threatening gesture, and, frightened by his angry manner, she fled back into her closet.

CHAPTER VI.

ROSY A TRADESWOMAN.

THE Sound of voices loud in dispute mixed itself with Rosy's morning dreams, and the noise of a heavy fall made her start up in her bed with sudden terror. At first she

could not tell whether it had been all a dream or not, but the next moment her mother's voice called her in a quick, frightened tone; and running into the front room, with her heart beating fast with fear, she found her father lying upon the floor, and her mother kneeling beside him, trying to raise him in her arms.

"Oh, mother!" cried Rosy, "is father dead, too?"

"No, child. The Lord be praised for sparing us that."

No, Rosy, it's nothing very bad," said the father, cheerfully. "I'm thinking my ankle's got a sprain, or the likes of it," and he tried to lift himself to his feet. But the effort gave him such pain that he sank back with a groan.

"How did he happen to fall?" asked Rosy, as she gently wiped away the great drops which stood on his forehead.

"'Twas Will did it," said the mother. "Your father bade him bide at home the morn till it was time for him to go out with his wares; but Will wouldn't hearken to it. He wouldn't do so much as to lead him to a good corner, so that you might go to your school; and the father was sore angered. They got into high words, and when Will tried to pass the door, the father laid hold on him, and between them-I don't rightly know how it was - he fell over the step here, with his foot bent under him, what'll we do at all with the father laid by ?"

Oh dear,

"Never mind, mother dear," said Rosy, as Mrs. Conroy

took up the corner of her apron to wipe away the tears which were rolling slowly down her face. "You mustn't get discouraged."

"But, child, there's never a cent in the house, and your father may lie for weeks afore he can put his foot to the ground; and there's six hungry mouths to feed."

"We'll see and get something to fill them, mother. Don't be afraid. Let me go out with father's basket today. Maybe I can sell a little."

"Dear heart!" said the mother, tenderly. afeard to have you go out your lone, Rosy." "God won't let any harm happen me."

"But I'd be

"No more He wouldn't, then, and you working for the father and mother and the little ones."

They had succeeded in lifting the blind man into a chair, and while Mrs. Conroy bound up the injured foot Rosy went back to Robbie, who was fretting and crying in the closet.

She had spoken cheerfully to her mother, for her warm, loving heart was full of pity for her; but she had said what she did because she wanted to console her, not because she felt the comfort in her own soul. She had said that God would watch over her, and yet she felt as if she could not find God that morning; and her whole heart was roused again, against the brother whose wickedness had made so much suffering for them all.

An hour later Rosy went out with her father's basket on her arm; for the children, hungry after the fast of the past evening, had eaten so heartily that but little was left for the mid-day meal.

If the many, many people who passed the corner of Fourteenth Street and Broadway, on that bright Saturday, Icould have looked into the heart of the child who stood there quietly offering for sale her papers of pins and cards of buttons, they would have paused and tried to do something toward lightening its load of care. But if

Rosy's basket had been filled with money that would have lifted but a part of the load from her spirit, for the heaviest weight resting there was a burden of angry, resentful feeling. Yesterday she had gone through a hard struggle with her conscience; but to-day she would not listen for a moment to its suggestions, and every time that it raised its voice, telling her that she ought to forgive her brother, she answered it angrily, saying that she had done all that she could she had asked his pardon, and he had unkindly refused it, and she could not and would not forgive his cruelty to her blind father. So she stood there brooding over all the trouble that he had caused, until her whole soul was full of bitterness, and her usually bright face clouded and saddened.

It was growing late, and the crowd of people passing up and down began to thin somewhat, but still the child stood patiently holding out her cards. By-and-by a big boy turned the corner; he stopped beside her, and suddenly striking her basket with his elbow, upset it on the walk, and with a loud laugh ran off.

"Just like a boy!" said Rosy to herself, as she picked up the scattered articles. "All boys are horrid !"

A remorseful thought of Robbie, with his pretty prattle and sweet ways, came across her mind as she made that strong assertion; and the next moment she doubted again whether it was quite a fair condemnation, for a pleasant, hearty voice, said,

"Hallo, Rosy, is this you? "He's home," said Rosy. his foot."

"My that's bad, aint it?

Where's your father?" "He's had a fall and lamed

But what's happened to

your basket? Your things are all in a mess."

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I know it. A boy knocked it over."

"Did he do it o' purpose?"

"Yes. Wasn't it mean?"

"Mean! I wish I'd been here to catch him. I reckon