"My mother is sick, and I am trying to earn something to support her," sobbed Katy, who, with her independent notions of trade in general, and of the candy trade in particular, would not have revealed this humiliating truth, except under the severe pressure of a wounded spirit. "Poor child!" exclaimed the portly gentleman, thrusting his hand deep down into his pocket, and pulling up a handful of silver. "Here is half a dollar for you, for I know you tell the truth." "O, no, sir; I can't take money as a gift." "Eh?" The gentleman looked astonished, and attempted to persuade her; but she steadily protested against receiving his money as a gift. "You are a proud little girl, my dear." "I am poor and proud; but I will sell you some candy." "Well, give me half a dollar's worth." "I haven't got so much. I have only fourteen cents' worth left." "Give me that, then." Katy wrapped up the remainder of her stock in a piece of paper, and handed it to the gentleman, who in payment threw the half-dollar on the tray. "I can't change it." "Never mind the change;" and the fat gentleman hurried away. Katy was so utterly astounded to find she had disposed of her entire stock, that she did not have the presence of mind to follow him, and the half dollar had to be placed in her treasury. She did not regard it with so much pride and pleasure as she did the two four-pence, and the four coppers, for there was something unmercantile about the manner in which it had come into her possession. She could not feel satisfied with herself, as she walked towards home, till she had argued the matter, and effected a compromise between her pride and her poverty. She had sold candy for the money, and the gentleman had paid her over three cents a stick--rather above the market value of the article; but there was no other way to make the transaction correspond with her ideas of propriety. Her work was done for the forenoon, though she had plenty of candy at home. It was now eleven o'clock, and she had not time to sell out another stock before dinner. As she walked up the street, on her way home, she encountered Master Simon Sneed, who, with the dignity and stateliness of a merchant prince, was lugging a huge bundle of goods to the residence of some customer. "I am glad to see you, Simon," said Katy. "Have you seen your friend the mayor?" "I am sorry to inform you, Katy, that a press of business has prevented my calling on his honor." "I am sorry for that. I am afraid I shall never see the watch again." "Depend upon it, you shall. I pledge you my honor that I will use every exertion to recover the lost treasure. Just now our firm require the undivided attention of all in the store." "I told Mrs. Gordon all about it, and she promised to speak to the mayor." "It was unnecessary to trouble her with the matter; my influence with the mayor will be quite sufficient." "I dare say it will; but when shall you see him?" "Very soon, be patient, Katy."