: Katie Robertson A Girls Story of Factory Life by Winslow Margaret E - Young women Fiction; Factories Fiction

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r supper and himself watched the two sick children,--which, now that one of them slept, was quite possible,--resuming his watch after he had had his own. Mrs. Sanderson declared that she was completely "beat out," as well she might be, poor woman, and dropping on the lounge in the sitting-room was asleep in a moment, while Katie coaxed Nina to help her wash the dishes, clear up the room, and put the two younger children to bed.

"That's all very well," said the doctor; "but how am I going to excuse it to her mother if she gets the fever, and what am I going to do with another patient upon my hands and no one to nurse her?"

"Oh, well, there's no harm done. She's only been here a little while, and her brother's coming to take her home before long."

"Not quite so fast, my good lady. She has been exposed to the fever already, and if she goes home now, may communicate it to her two brothers or the other girl that boards with them. Then her mother would be sure to go home to take care of them, and there would be an end of my hospital and my quarantine. No; she must either go to her mother and take her chance there, or she must stay here till we see whether she has escaped the contagion."

"Please, let me stay here," said Katie, who had overheard this conversation. "I don't think I shall have the fever, but I am sure I can be of use to them all."

"Wouldn't you like to go and be with your mother?"

"Even Christ pleased not himself."

CONSCIENCE.

Mr Sanderson would not allow Katie to sit up late. Indeed, she could not have kept awake, and would have been of little use if she could. She shared Nina's bed in the room where the younger children slept, but lay awake thinking, long after that irresponsible little girl was asleep by her side. Everything seemed so strange. It was the first night she had ever spent away from her own home, and she could not help wondering how Tessa and the boys were getting along, and what they had for supper. She thought of her mother and of the anxiety which, when she heard where she was, she would feel about her; and she wondered if she should have the fever, and if she did if she should die, as one of the patients at the hospital had already done. Then she wondered if Bertie would die, and a strange sort of awe came over her at such a thought in connection with one who had been her playmate ever since she could remember. It made death seem very near, and she wondered if she were fit to die. But that thought did not trouble her much. Nothing, either in life or death, can really hurt those who love Jesus and trust in his protection. She asked him to make her ready to die when he chose, and then, being of a very hopeful, cheerful nature, began to think of other things.

How could Bertie have circulated those stories about her? And, what was more important, how could she set herself right in the eyes of the other girls, and especially in those of Miss Eunice and Miss Etta? She could not go and say to the latter: "I know Bertie called me a thief, but I am not one," and then tell the story just as it was. They might not believe her, and if they did it would be betraying Bertie, and that would not be kind, particularly now that the latter was so ill. Or if she could have told the young ladies and, with the help of Mr. James, made it all straight with them, she could not go around to all the girls and explain what to them were half-defined suspicions. Even if she told the story of the fifty-dollar bill and her version of it were believed, they might very naturally think that there was something else, and that Bertie would scarcely have based her charge of theft on so slight and easily to be explained a circumstance as that. What should she do? It was dreadful to live under such a cloud; to have people consider you wicked when you are desiring and trying with all your might to be good, and not be able to right yourself at all. Again a feeling toward Bertie arose in the girl's heart that would have been hatred but for her companion's present condition, and which she felt to be wrong even as it was. For the thought of Jesus and how he forgave his enemies made her feel ashamed of herself, till she got out of bed and, kneeling down in the moonlight, prayed to be made more like him and to be willing to suffer wrongfully, if need be, with patience, rather than to feel wrong or to do anything unkind. And then, as she got into bed again, the scripture words with which she had commenced her factory life came back to her with new force:--

"In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." And then those others in the thirty-seventh Psalm: "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. He shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light."

That was the safest way. She might leave it to God to take care of her reputation. He could manage it though she could not, and some time everybody would understand just how it was, and know she was not a thief. Meantime she could afford to wait his time.

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