"It means that I'm tired of doing nothing--of being slighted, and made of no account. It means that I want to see the world, and know a thing or two about life. You and Miss Jessie just mope about like sick kittens; and as for the servants--well, I don't belong in that crew, anyhow--but they are getting worse and worse. The long and the short of it all is, I have made up my mind to go away right off, and do something worth while. I only wish you would ask Miss Jessie to settle up with me now, right on the nail, for I'm in an awful hurry to get off." Settle up! I should have been less astonished if the house-dog had made a sudden claim for wages. Lottie had always been considered as a child of the establishment, to be cared for and petted beyond all idea of payment. She had never seemed to care for money, nor know how to use it. But while enjoying her life in a state of luxurious ease, almost equalling that of her young mistress, she descended upon us with a rough demand for wages--wages from the time she entered the house, a mere child, up to that very day--no inconsiderable sum, according to her own estimate. This singular outbreak of cupidity astonished me, and half indignantly I expostulated with the girl. But though her cheeks blazed with seeming shame, and her eyes sunk under mine, she persisted in this grave demand. All that she had received, her dear, dear mistress had given out and out--that had nothing to do with wages; there was her bill--four hundred dollars--and she wanted it in gold--hard gold, nothing else. I went to Jessie with the bill. She did not seem to heed the amount, but was distressed at the idea of parting with her mother's faithful attendant. Hoping that something had gone wrong, and that this was a sudden impulse, she sent for Lottie, in order to expostulate with her; for it seemed like turning a bird, which had become used to its cage, loose upon the world, if we allowed the girl to have her way. Lottie came in, looking dogged and shy; Jessie held out her hand, with a piteous smile, for she was thinking of her mother. "Lottie, what have we done that you wish to leave us?" "Nothing on earth, Miss Jess. I ain't mad at you, nor any one; but yet I want to go down to York and get a place. It's lonesome here." Jessie's eyes filled with tears. It was indeed very lonesome. "And will you leave us for that, Lottie?" The girl was troubled; her color came and went. She was about to burst into tears--but answered still,-- "It's lonesome, and I want to go. Why can't you let me, without all this? I ain't made of cast-iron, nor yet of brass. Please give me my money and let me go." "But you are so helpless. What will become of you in a great city?" pleaded Jessie. Lottie came up to her and knelt in her old way.