“Oh, pshaw! Your mother had the heart disease, and would have died just as likely as not if he hadn’t tetched the door,” she said. “And it was your fault, anyway. You knew your mother couldn’t stand excitement, so what made you lock the door against your husband and create such a racket?” Fair knew that all this had been put into Mrs. Levy’s mouth by her artful enemy, and she ceased the vain attempt to win the woman’s good opinion. Weak and wretched as she was, she could only sob forlornly in her handkerchief, and Mrs. Levy continued crossly: “Well, all I’ve got to say is you’ve got to leave this house. I can’t let you stay here a day longer. I’m liable to be sued by your husband for harboring his wife. So pack your things, and get out as soon as possible; and if you want my advice, it’s go home to your husband!” Frightened at being turned adrift on the cold world, Fair pleaded piteously to stay; but to no purpose. The woman sternly ordered her to go that day. “If I might only stay until I hear from Sadie,” she sighed; “I think she will be home soon. It’s more than a week since she went away.” “And you ain’t heard from her yet?” “No.” “Then you may take my word that she went away to get rid of you. So get your things up and leave in an hour.” “Mrs. Levy, I have nowhere to take my few possessions, so I will leave them to my dear friend Sadie. I do not think I shall need them any more,” said Fair, with a look so strange that the woman jumped to the conclusion that she meant to commit suicide; but so hardened had her heart become that she only answered: “Take or leave them, as you please; but I give you an hour to get out, no more,” and then she banged out of the room, muttering something about poor and proud, and too good to live with a poor husband, while Fair turned, with a breaking heart, to write a few lines to Sadie, her dear friend. CHAPTER XIV. FOLLOWED IN THE STREET. It was noon when Fair sealed her letter, and, putting on her little black turban, went down the hall toward good Mrs. Burns’ room. She intended to leave the letter for Sadie Allen in the woman’s care, and also to entreat her to go with her as far as the factory, where she would beg Mrs. Jones, the forewoman, to find her a safe place to stay until Sadie Allen came back. But in Mrs. Burns’ room she found only little Emma, the ten-year-old girl, minding the baby and the younger children, while her mother went out for the day, to assist a lady in house-cleaning. Fair’s heart sank, but she knew she had to go, so she said to the child: “Little Emma, I am going away. Mrs. Levy has ordered me to leave the house, so I am going back to the factory to work. Tell your mother good-by.” Then she placed the letter in the child’s hand. “My dear, will you take care of this until Miss Sadie Allen comes, and give it to her with your own hands?” she asked, and the child promised faithfully to do so.