Martha is our parlourmaid--very good-natured girl, and fond of children." Mrs.Morton looked grave, thought a moment, and said, "Yes, he can have that room." "Who can have that room ?" asked Sidney, innocently.

"You, my dear," replied Mr.Morton.
"And where will mamma sleep?
I must sleep near mamma." "Mamma is going away," said Catherine, in a firm voice, in which the despair would only have been felt by the acute ear of sympathy,--"going away for a little time: but this gentleman and lady will be very--very kind to you." "We will do our best, ma'am," said Mrs.Morton.
And as she spoke, a sudden light broke on the boy's mind--he uttered a loud cry, broke from his aunt, rushed to his mother's breast, and hid his face there, sobbing bitterly.
"I am afraid he has been very much spoiled," whispered Mrs.Roger Morton.

"I don't think we need stay longer--it will look suspicious.
Good morning, ma'am: we shall be ready to-morrow." "Good-bye, Catherine," said Mr.Morton; and he added, as he kissed her, "Be of good heart, I will come up by myself and spend the evening with you." It was the night after this interview.

Sidney had gone to his new home; they had been all kind to him--Mr.Morton, the children, Martha the parlour-maid.

Mrs.Roger herself had given him a large slice of bread and jam, but had looked gloomy all the rest of the evening: because, like a dog in a strange place, he refused to eat.