But she could not understand why her mother wanted her to sleep at home. Tom could. "Too young! Pooh! before she is a year-older, she will be lost." Too true! Before she had been in "the Home" six months, she had learned to read, write, and work, and had grown much in stature and fine looks. Then she would have been placed in some good family, but her mother would not consent. She still complained of her breast, and had frequent turns of vomiting. She always felt worse in the morning, "because," she said, "that was such a dreadful place to sleep." Sometimes she did not come for a few days; her mother made her stay at home and sew. She had learned to work, and her services were worth more at that than begging. One night she came in, in great haste, crying. "What is the matter, Madalina?" "My mother has had an offer for me." "An offer for you. What is that?" Tom looked daggers. "I told you so." "What is it, my good girl. Tell me all about it." "My mother bid me go out with her this evening, both of us dressed in our best. She said she had an offer for me, and was going to meet the man in Duane street. "'What does the man want of me, mother?' said I. "'Oh, he will make a fine lady of you, and you will live with him.' "'But I don't want to live with him; I had rather live with Mr. Pease, at "the Home." I had rather live where Tom is, for Tom is good to me.'" Young love's first happy dream! "But we went on, and I held my head down, and felt very bad. By-and-by I heard my mother say,'Here she is,' and I looked up a little, and saw two gentlemen--that is, they were clothed like gentlemen--and directly one spoke to the other. "'I say, Jim, she will do; give the old woman the money, and let us take her up to Kate's.' "Mercy on me, that voice! I felt that sore spot in my breast grow more and more painful. I looked up; _it was the man who kicked me_; the other was the man who put the tobacco in my mouth." "What did you do?" "I stood a little behind my mother while she held out her hand for the money, and when their eyes were turned I ran. I only heard them say, 'Why, damn her, she is gone.' Yes, I was gone, and here I am. Oh, I am so sick and so faint! do let me lay down, and don't let those men have me. Oh dear, the thought of it will kill me!" So it did. A cruel blow had fallen upon a tender plant. The beggar girl might not have felt it. The little seamstress did. A taste of virtue, civilization, christianity, friendship, love, had given the food of sin and shame a hated taste. Sold by a mother to a libidinous brute--to a miserable rum-selling,--worse than rum-drinking--wretch, who wears gentlemanly garments, and kicks, burns, and gags little beggar girls. It was too much for human nature to bear, and it sunk under this last blow, worse than the first.