In a few days more the purse was empty. Katy's most dreaded hour had come. She had no money, and almost every day some new thing was required for her mother. But this time she had friends, and she determined to use them, as all true friends wish to be used in the day of sorrow and trial. After considerable debate with herself, she decided to apply to Mrs. Gordon for a loan of twenty dollars. She was still poor and proud, and she could not endure the thought of asking a loan, which might be regarded as a gift, or which, by her own inability to pay it, might virtually become such; therefore she proposed to present her father's silver watch as security for the payment of the debt. CHAPTER XIX. KATY RESORTS TO A LOAN. Katy was not at all pleased with the mission which her duty seemed to impose upon her. Again she felt the crushing weight of poverty, and pride rose up to throw obstacles in her path. She was a child of twelve, and to ask a loan of twenty dollars, though she offered sufficient security for the payment of the debt, seemed like demanding a great deal of her friends--like inviting them to repose a vast amount of confidence in her ability and honesty. They would not want the watch; it would be of no value to them; and the more she considered the matter, the more like an act of charity appeared the favor she was about to ask. More than once on her way to Temple Street did she stop short, resolved to get the money of some other person--the grocer, Mr. Sneed, or even of a pawnbroker; but as often she rebuked the pride that tormented her like a demon, and went forward again. She stood some time at Mrs. Gordon's door before she had the resolution to ring the bell. "What right have I to be so proud?" said she, grasping the bell handle. "I must get this money, or my mother may suffer." She rang with a force that must have astonished Michael, and led him to think some extraordinary character had arrived; for he ran to the door at full speed, and burst out into a violent fit of laughter, when he saw no one but the little candy merchant. "Good morning, to you, Katy. Are you nervous this morning?" said he. "Good morning, Michael. I am not very nervous." "I thought you would pull down the bell," he added, good-naturedly. "I didn't mean to, Michael; I hope you will excuse me if I did any harm." "Not a bit of harm; but you're looking as sober as a deacon. What ails you, Katy?" "I feel very sad, Michael; for my mother is very sick, and I don't know as she will ever get well." "Indeed? I'm sorry to hear that of her;" and Michael, whatever he felt, looked very much concerned about Mrs. Redburn's health. "Is Mrs. Gordon at home?" "She isn't." "Is Miss Grace?" "Neither of them; they went to Baltimore ten days ago but I am expecting them back every day."