From that day, Master Grey was “monarch of all he surveyed,” and, truth compels me to own, by none better loved or more implicitly obeyed, than by Miss Bessie. Master Grey’s “boarding week” at my uncle’s had now expired. What a change had it effected in me! Life was no longer aimless: the old, glad sparkle had come back to my heavy eye; I no longer dreaded the solitude of my own thoughts. The dull rain dropping on my chamber roof had its music for my ears; the stars wore a new and a glittering brightness, and Winter, with his snowy mantle, frosty breath, and icicle diadem, seemed lovelier to me than violet-slippered Spring, with roses in her hair. I still saw Master Grey each day at school. How patiently he bore with my multiplied deficiencies, and with what a delicate and womanly appreciation of my extreme sensitiveness, he soothed my wounded pride. No pale-eyed flower fainting beneath the garish noonday heat ever so thirsted for the cool dews of twilight, as did my desolate heart for his soothing tones and kindly words. CHAPTER V. “Betsey,” said my uncle, “we shall want you at home now. It will be impossible for me to get along without you, unless I hire a hand, and times are too hard for that: so you must leave school. You’ve a good home here, for which you ought to be thankful, as I’ve told you before; but you must work, girl, work! Some how or other the money goes;” (and he pulled out the old pocket-bock;) “here’s my grocer’s bill--two shillings for tea, and three shillings for sugar; can’t you do with out sugar, Hetty? And here’s a dollar charged for a pair of India rubbers. A dollar is a great deal of money, Hetty; more than you could earn in a month. And here’s a shilling for a comb; now that’s useless, you might cut your hair off. It won’t do--won’t do. I had no idea of the additional expense when I took you in. Josiah ought to have left you something no man has a right to leave his children for other people to support; ’tisn’t Christian. I’ve been a professor these twenty years, and I ought to know. I don’t know as you have any legal claim on me because you are my niece. Josiah was thriftless and extravagant. I suppose ’tis in your blood, too, for I can’t find out that you have begun to pay your way by any chores you have done here. If you must live on us, (and I can’t say that I see the necessity,) I repeat, I wish you had been born a boy.” “But as I am not a boy, Uncle, and as I do not wish to be a burthen to you, will you tell me how to support myself?”