“At first I undertook to maintain myself by the needle, but the miserable pittance I received showed me that I must try some other means of support. On inquiry I found that nothing paid as well as fine laundry work for ladies. It was a trial to my pride, for I was well brought up and educated, to take in washing for a living, but I would rather do that than see my children suffer. So I stifled my pride and became a laundress. I was fortunate in securing customers, and I have wanted for nothing, neither have my children--nothing at least that was necessary to comfort. But when my husband came home lately, and proposed to put upon me the additional burden of his support, I became discouraged.” “I hope better days are in store for you,” said Paul. “Not while my husband lives, and can find me out,” said Ellen Barclay, sadly. “Do you wish me to introduce you to your husband’s father?” “Do you think it will be best?” “We had better try the experiment at any rate. He may die, and if he does his money ought to go to you.” “It would be a great relief to me if my children would be provided for.” “Follow me, then.” Following Paul, Ellen Barclay went into the chamber occupied by old Jerry. The old man looked up, noticing Paul only. “Do you think I will get well, Paul?” he asked. “Yes, Jerry, if you receive proper care, and have nourishing food.” “But--I am so poor, Paul.” “That is a mistake, Jerry, as you and I know.” “Don’t let any one know of the few dollars I have, Paul.” “I won’t let your son know; he is the only one of whom you need be afraid. Did you know he was married, and had two children?” “I--I think he said something of it.” “Would you like to see his wife?” “I--I don’t know,” answered the old man, in an uncertain voice. “This lady is your son’s wife,” said Paul, beckoning Ellen to come forward. The old man regarded her with an uneasy look. “I hope you are not like James,” he said; “he is a bold, bad man!” “No one knows that better than I, Mr. Barclay. It was a sad day when I married him.” “You have found him out, too?” “Yes, to my sorrow.” “You won’t try to get my money?” asked Jerry, anxiously. “No, but I should like to bring my children here to see their grandfather.” “Are they--like him?” “No, thank Heaven!” “Then you may bring them.” “I will. Can I do anything for you?” “No, except to keep James away.” “You have made a good impression on him,” said Paul, when they had left the room together. “Thanks to you,” said Ellen, earnestly. “You are a good boy, and an unselfish one. Hereafter I shall trust you fully.” CHAPTER XXIX. A NEW COMMISSION. “If Number 91 is unemployed, send him to No. 75, Windsor Hotel, at eleven o’clock.” This message came to the telegraph office at which Paul was enrolled. The superintendent called him to the desk. “Here is a call for you, Number 91,” he said. “It comes from a lady, Mrs. Louisa Holbrook. Do you know her?” “No, sir.” “Are you familiar with the name?”