Chapter 3

DEATH OF MRS. GASTON'S CHILD.--A MOTHER'S ANGUISH.

ON the next morning, at the earliest dawn, Mrs. Gaston arose. She found Ella's fever still very high. The child was restless, and moaned a good deal in her sleep.

"Poor little thing!" murmured the mother, as she bent over her for a moment, and then turned away, and commenced kindling a fire upon the hearth. Fortunately, for her, she had saved enough from her earnings during the summer to buy half a cord of wood; but this was gradually melting away, and she was painfully conscious that, by the time the long and severe winter had fairly set in, her stock of fuel would be exhausted; and at the prices which she was receiving for her work, she felt that it would be impossible to buy more. After making the fire, she took her work, and drew near the window, through which the cold faint rays of the morning were stealing. By holding the work close to the light, she could see to set her needle, and in this way she commenced her daily toil. An hour was spent in sewing, when Emma aroused up, and she had to lay by her work to attend to her child. Ella, too, had awakened, and complained that her head ached badly, and that her throat was very sore. Half an hour was spent in dressing, washing, and otherwise attending to her children, and then Mrs. Gaston went out to get something for breakfast. On entering the shop of Mrs. Grubb, she met with rather a more courteous reception than had been given her on the morning previous.

"Ah! good-morning, Mrs. Gaston! Good-morning!" said that personage, with a broad, good-natured smile. "How is Ella?"

"She seems very poorly, Mrs. Grubb. I begin to feel troubled about her. She complains of a sore throat this morning, and you know the scarlet fever is all about now."

"Oh, no! never fear that, Mrs. Gaston. Ella's not down with the scarlet fever, I know."

"I trust not. But I have my fears."

"Never take trouble on interest, Mrs. Gaston. It is bad enough when it comes in the natural way. But what can I do for you?"

"I think I must have a cent's worth of coffee this morning. My head aches so that I am almost blind. A strong cup of coffee I am sure will do me good. And as I have a hard day's work before me, I must prepare for it. And then I must have a pint of milk and a three-cent loaf of bread for the children. That must do me for the present. We have some molasses left."

"You'll want a little dried meat, or a herring, or something to give you a relish, Mrs. Gaston. Dry bread is poor eating. And you know you can't touch molasses." Half in sympathy did Mrs. Grubb utter this, and half as a dealer, desirous of selling her goods.

"Nothing more just now, I believe," the poor woman replied. "I must be prudent, you know, and count over every cent."

"But