"That's right, Katy. Think well of your friends, though others speak ill of them," said Grace. "Ah, there comes the carriage. I am going home with you, Katy, to see your mother."
"You are very kind, Miss Grace."
"Here is the money," added Mrs. Gordon, handing her a little roll of bills.
"Thank you, ma'am," replied Katy, as she placed the money in her porte-monnaie. "But----"
Here she came to a full stop, and her face was as crimson as a blush rose, but she took out the silver watch, and approached Mrs. Gordon.
"What were you going to say, Katy?"
"I brought this watch up," stammered she.
"What for?"
"You know I am a poor girl, my mother is a poor woman, and we didn't want you to think you were giving us the money, for we are very proud; that is, my mother is very proud, and so am I; and----"
Here Katy drew a long breath, and came to a full stop again, unable to say what she wanted to say.
"If you want anything else, Katy, don't hesitate to mention it; for I will not do anything to mortify your pride, even if it is unreasonable," said Mrs. Gordon. "I understand you perfectly; the twenty dollars is not a gift, but a loan."
"Yes, ma'am; but if we should never be able to pay it, then it would be a gift."
"No, it wouldn't."
"I think so; and so I brought this watch, which you will please to take as security for the payment of the loan," said Katy, much confused, as she offered the watch to Mrs. Gordon.
"My dear child, I do not want any security. Your word is just as good as your bond."
"But I would rather you would take it. My mother is prouder than I am, for she wasn't always as poor as she is now."
Katy suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, when she recollected that this was a forbidden topic.
"Some time you may tell me all about your mother; and I will call and see her to-morrow, and help you take care of her."
"Please to take the watch. ma'am."
"If you very much desire it, I shall do so, though I cannot take it as security. Is this the watch you carried to the pawnbroker?" said Mrs. Gordon as she took the treasure.
"Yes, ma'am. It belonged to my father."
Mrs. Gordon turned over the watch, and looked at it with considerable interest, as she thought of it as a memento of the dead, and how highly it must be prized by the poor woman.
"Mercy, what's this!" exclaimed she, starting back, and staggering towards her chair.
"What is the matter, mother?" cried Grace, running to her side.
"Are you ill?"
"No, Grace; that inscription!" replied Mrs. Gordon, faintly, for she seemed very deeply moved, and on the point of swooning.
"Bring me a glass of water."
There was no water in the room, but Michael was in the entry, and was dispatched to procure it. He returned in a moment, and when Mrs. Gordon had in some measure recovered from the sudden shock she pointed to the inscription on the back of the watch:--
"M. G. to J. R.
All for the Best."
"What does, it mean, mother? I do not see anything very strange about that."
"I have seen this watch before," she replied, stopping to think.
"Where did your mother get this watch, Katy?" she asked, as it occurred to her that she might be arriving at a conclusion too suddenly.
"It was my father's."
"Where did your father get it? Did you ever hear your mother say?
"Yes, ma'am; her father, who was a rich Liverpool merchant, gave it to her husband, my father," replied Katy, who felt justified in revealing what her mother had told her to keep secret.
"Mercy!" gasped Mrs. Gordon, almost overcome by her emotions.
"What is the matter, mother? What has all this to do with you?" asked Grace, anxiously.
"Come here, Katy, my child," continued Mrs. Gordon, as she drew the little candy merchant to her side, and warmly embraced her.
"Your mother, Katy, is my sister, I have scarcely a doubt."
"Why, mother! Is it possible?" exclaimed Grace.
"It is even so. Mrs. Redburn, whose name we have often heard mentioned without thinking it might be the wife of John Redburn, my father's clerk, is my sister. I had given her up, and have regarded her as dead for more than ten years. But, Grace, get my things, and I will go to her at once."
"Is that your portrait, ma'am?" asked Katy, pointing to the picture of the mischievous lady.
"No, child; that is your mother's portrait."
"I almost knew it."
"It was taken when she was only sixteen years old. She was a gay, wild girl then. I suppose she is sadly changed now."
