“Things ran on this way for two years. I had many bright but wayward girls in my care during that time. The little girl’s visits were less frequent to me and I had not seen her for months, when she came to me one day and told me she was to become a mother. I took her in, of course, and the former resort was rented. The time arrived for her expected illness. The baby was a bright girl. The little mother hung between life and death for days. She, in her delirium, roamed everywhere, called many by name, and spoke of places she had known. One day during her ravings I attempted to arrange her bed more comfortably, and in order to do so was compelled to turn her over. I discovered that her back and shoulders were covered with a rash. I thought a tepid bath would be just the thing, so I slipped her gown down and laid bare her back. I saw a scar. Believe me or not, mister, that acid felt cooling on my face compared to the pain which now fired me within and without. My daughter! I was able to be up and around the house when she regained her senses. She asked for her baby. I don’t know why, but I lied to her. I was not too good to lie this time.” The gurgle which emitted from the woman’s throat at this juncture was a poor excuse for a laugh. “Yes, I lied; I told her it had died; and to think it was then in the nursery with several others, and the jolliest, cunningest one of the lot! “The little mother got well and strong and she got a good position and a man, a real man, fell heels over head in love with her, and now they are married. Now she has three sweet children.” “Do you ever see your daughter?” At this question the small black eyes snapped, and the haggard woman started. “Don’t say that, mister, please; ’cause nobody knows. “Yes, I see her twice a week. She has a beautiful home and for the sake of old times she has me come and clean her room twice a week. She says I do it so much better than her regular servants. Oh, mister, you don’t know how long and faithful I work in that room.” “And the other little girl; her first baby?” “Oh, the kid?” “Yes.” “Well, you see, I’m trying to raise her right, for now you see I know right from wrong. She is nearly ten. A year ago a drunken man came down here and brought a monkey. He mistreated it so that it bit him and broke away. It ran to the kid and nothing could get it to leave, so the man told her to keep it, and he took rather a fancy to her in his drunken way and took her up town and bought her an organ. From that on we lived real well, but during the first cold snap the fire went out one night and when we got up ‘Pranks’ was froze to death. Since then she has begged a ‘right smart.’” “Does she ever see her mother?”