I am away. By-the-by, where's Syd?"

The elder child (the girl) had been christened Sydney, in
compliment to one of her father's female relatives. The name was
not liked by her mother--who had shortened it to Syd, by way of
leaving as little of it as possible. With a look at Mrs.
Westerfield which expressed ill-concealed aversion, the landlady
answered: "She's up in the lumber-room, poor child. She says you
sent her there to be out of the way."

"Ah, to be sure, I did."

"There's no fireplace in the garret, ma'am. I'm afraid the little
girl must be cold and lonely."

It was useless to plead for Syd--Mrs. Westerfield was not
listening. Her attention was absorbed by her own plump and pretty
hands. She took a tiny file from the dressing-table, and put a
few finishing touches to her nails. "Send me some hot water," she
said; "I want to dress."

The servant girl who carried the hot water upstairs was new to
the ways of the house. After having waited on Mrs. Westerfield,
she had been instructed by the kind-hearted landlady to go on to
the top floor. "You will find a pretty little girl in the garret,
all by herself. Say you are to bring her down to my room, as soon
as her mamma has gone out."

Mrs. Westerfield's habitual neglect of her eldest child was known
to every person in the house. Even the new servant had heard of