"There's no binding about it," replied the mistress. "Of course I wouldn't be held to anything of that sort. I shan't keep you any longer than you behave yourself." "Then, if you please, mum, I think I'll go," said Glory. And she burst into a passion of tears. "Humph! Where?" asked Mrs. Grubbling. "I don't know, yet," said Glory, the sarcasm drying her tears. "I s'pose I can go to a office." "And where'll you get your meals and your lodgings till you find a place?" The cat thought she had her paw on the mouse, now, and could play with her as securely and cruelly as she pleased. "If you go away at all," continued Mrs. Grubbling, with what she deemed a finishing stroke of policy, "you go straight off. I'll have no dancing back and forth to offices from here." "Do you mean right off, this minute?" asked Glory, aghast. "Yes just that. Pack up and go, or else let me hear no more about it." The next thing in Glory's programme of duty was to lay the table for dinner. But she went out of the room, and slowly off, upstairs. Pretty soon she came down again, with her eyes very tearful, and her shabby shawl and bonnet on. "I'm going, mum," said she, as one resolved to face calmly whatever might befall. "I didn't mean it to be sudden, but it are. And I wouldn't never a gone, if I'd a thought anybody cared for me the leastest bit that ever was. I wouldn't mind bein' worked and put upon, and not havin' any good times; but when people hates me, and goes to say I doesn't tell the truth"--here Glory broke down, and the tears poured over her stained cheeks again, and she essayed once more to dry them, which reminded her that her hands again were full. "It's some goodies--from the party, mum"--she struggled to say between short breaths and sobs, "that Katie Ryan give me--an' I kept--to make a party--for the children, with--to-day, mum--when the chores was done--and I'll leave 'em--for 'em--if you please." Glory laid her coals of fire upon the table as she spoke. Master Herbert eyed them, as one utterly unconscious of a scorch. "I s'pose I might come back and get my bundle," said Glory, standing still in the hope of one last kindly or relenting word. "Oh, yes, if you get a place," said her mistress, dryly, affecting to treat the whole affair as a childish, though unwonted burst of petulance. But Glory, not daring, unbidden, even to kiss the baby, went steadily and sorrowfully out into the street, and drew the door behind her, that shut with a catch lock, and fastened her out into the wide world. Not stopping to think, she hurried on, up Budd and down Branch Street, and across the green common path to the apple stand and Bridget Foye. "I've done it! I've gone! And I don't know what to do, nor where to go to!" "Arrah, poor little rid hin! So, ye've found yer schiasors, have ye, an' let yersel' loose out o' the bag? Well, it's I that is glad, though I wouldn't pit ye up till it," says Bridget Foye.