the arguments it had put in the mouth of her child. She was
conscious that her pride, which made a humble occupation
repulsive to her, was a false pride. If it could have been
carried on in private, it would not have seemed so galling. For
years she had been a recluse from society, mingling only with her
humble neighbors, and with them no more than her circumstances
required. She had labored in solitude, and shunned observation as
much as possible, by carrying her work back and forth in the
evening. Years of hard toil had not familiarized her with the
circumstances of her lot. She tried to be humble and submissive,
but the memory of her early days could not be driven away.

Katy returned in a few minutes with the jug of molasses. She
bustled round and made up a good fire, got the kettle on, and
everything in readiness for the work. Her mother gave her
directions how to proceed; but Katy could impart to her none of
her own enthusiasm.

When the molasses had been cooked enough, she was ready to
commence the pulling, which was the most difficult part in the
manufacture of her merchandise. Then she found that her trials
had indeed commenced. At first the sticky mass, in spite of the
butter and the flour with which she had plentifully daubed her
hands, was as obstinate as a mule. It would not work one way or
another; now it melted down, and stuck to her fingers, and then
it became as solid as a rock. She fretted some at these crosses,
and as her spirits sank, her mother's rose, for she thought
Katy's resolution would not hold out long enough for her to
complete the experiment. But she underrated the energy of the
devoted girl, who, in the face of every discouragement, stuck to