afternoon until seven in the evening, she received two dollars and
seventy-five cents as the best sewer of six. She brought home the hardly
earned money with tears in her eyes; for she had expected at least three
dollars for the week's work. She had made each day a whole muslin dress,
with the trimmings. And this was not all: the dressmaker often did not pay
on Saturday nights, because, as she said, people did not pay her
punctually; and the poor girls received their wages by six or eight
shillings at a time. For the last two weeks of my sister's work, she
received her payment seven weeks after she had left.

We lived in this manner until the middle of July, when I lost patience;
for practice did not come as readily as I wished, nor was I in a position
for making money in any other way. My sister, usually so cheerful and
happy, grew grave from the unusual work and close confinement. One of
these nights, on lying down to sleep, she burst into tears, and told me of
her doubts and fears for the future. I soothed her as well as I could, and
she fell asleep. For myself, I could not sleep, but lay awake all night
meditating what I could possibly do. Should I write home, requesting help
from my father? He certainly would have given it; for we had received a
letter two weeks before, offering us all desirable aid. No: all my pride
rebelled against it. "I must help myself," I thought, "and that
to-morrow."

The next morning, my sister left me as usual. I went out, and walked
through the city to Broadway turning into Canal Street, where I had formed
an acquaintance with a very friendly German woman by purchasing little
articles at various times at her store. I entered without any particular
design, and exchanged a few commonplaces with her about the weather. Her
husband stood talking with a man about worsted goods, and their
conversation caught my ear. The merchant was complaining because the