“Some day, child, when thou art older,” it was the mother who had spoken, “I will tell thee of my home. Perhaps we’ll write a letter, they may like to see thee, little lass. Try to be a lady, dear, then they will not be ashamed of thee.” Things grew confused as Debby tried to think, but there was one night that was ever clear. It was the last night of the clean happy life. “Be a lady, Debby child, and whatever happens stay with father like a good maid. Save him, dear, he was a fine man once. He will tell thee the rest of the story some day.” How vividly Debby remembered clinging to the poor mother and sobbing out the promise to stay with father. After that scene all was confusion and misery. The untold story was never finished or asked for. Uncared-for and neglected poor Debby became an outcast among decent children, and the butt of the reckless ones. And so it had gone from bad to worse until the town had ordered Bill Mason from the village of his adoption, and had bound Debby to Mrs. Lane for five years. CHAPTER II. DEBBY TAKES HER OWN WAY. “Deborah?” “Yes ma’am.” “Hast thou aired thy bed and prayed in private, earnestly seeking forgiveness for thy sins of yesterday?” Mrs. Lane came down the long hall and eyed with disapproval the girl sitting idly on the top step of the porch. A sullen look passed over Debby’s face. “I’ve aired my bed,” answered she. “And humbly besought pardon for thy sins?” “No, ma’am.” “Why not, Deborah?” “Because I haven’t been sinning.” “Child, thy soul is in danger of eternal punishment!” “I don’t care.” Debby had suffered so much in various forms during her short life, that the subject had ceased to interest her. She never trembled as did the well cared for little Puritans, over Elder Morris’ prayers. His lurid descriptions rather charmed her. There seemed no doubt in Plymouth but that Bill Mason was doomed, and where her father went, Debby wanted to go too, consequently no threat could touch her. At the hard words Mrs. Lane grew more rigid. “For thy mother’s sake I have sought to save thee,” she said, “I have even tried to trace her family for I believe they were of better stock than thy vagabond father, but I fear me, lass, that thou art an evil hearted wench. Neither hell fire or earthly love can move thee. Mistress Knowles hath told me that over and again thou art seen with Jack Martin; thou art a shameless one!” “Jack was my only friend when all the other boys and girls turned on me, ’tis not like I’d forget Jack.” There was a dangerous flash in Debby’s eyes. “I forbid thee ever speaking to the rascal again. Dost hear?” “Yes.” “Wilt thou obey?” “No.” A cruel blow almost threw Debby from the porch. She gathered herself up and turned a set, white face to her mistress.