strength. It is true he was called a doctor, and he had been a
doctor, but he did not practice the healing art now. If he had
failed to make a physician, it was not because his heart was so
tender that he could not bear to look upon pain and suffering. He
was the agent of Mrs. Gordon, a widow lady, who owned the house
in which Katy's mother lived. He collected her rents, and
transacted all her business; and as far as dollars and cents were
concerned, he had certainly been a faithful servant. Dr. Flynch
was a prudent and discreet man, and did not hurt the feelings of
the good lady who employed him by telling her about the
difficulties he encountered in the discharge of his duty, or by
describing the harsh and even cruel means to which he was
sometimes obliged to resort, in order to obtain the rent of poor
tenants.

"Mrs. Redburn," said Dr. Flynch, when he had heard the
exclamation of Katy, "you have told me a falsehood. You said you
had no money, not a cent. Where did you get that roll, child?"

"At the store at the corner of the court," replied Katy, abashed
by the cold dignity of the agent.

"Precisely so, Mrs. Redburn; but you do not buy bread without
money. You have attempted to deceive me. I have pitied you up to
the present time, and indulged you in the non-payment of your
rent for over a week I can do so no longer, for you have told me
a falsehood."

"No, sir, I have not," pleaded the sick woman.