But four pounds, however large a sum to look at, down sadly in the spending; especially when bedside carpets, and boys' boots—new ones and the mending of old ones—have to be from it at the commencement. An idea had for some time been in Jane's mind; looming , for she did not like to speak of it. It was, that William must go out and enter upon some employment, by which a little weekly money might be added to their stock. He was eager enough; indulging, no doubt, boy-like, visions of his own, great and grand. But these Jane had to ; to explain that for young boys, such as he, earning money implied hard work.  
His face flushed . Jane drew him to her and pressed her cheek upon his.
 
"There would be no real disgrace in it, my darling. No work in itself brings disgrace; be it carrying out parcels or out a shop. So long as we retain our of tone, of manner, our conduct one to the other, we shall still be gentlepeople, let us work at what we may. William, I think it is your duty to help in our need."
 
"Yes, I see, mamma," he answered. "I will try and do it; anything that may turn up."
 
Jane had not much faith in things "turning up." She believed that they must be sought for. That same evening she went into Mr. Lynn's, with the view to asking his counsel. There she found Anna in trouble. The cause was as follows.
 
Patience, leaving Anna alone at her lessons, had gone into the kitchen to give some directions to Grace. Anna seized the opportunity to take a little recreation: not that it was greatly needed, for—spoilt child that she was!—she had merely looked at her books with vacant eyes, not having in reality learned a single word. First of all, off went her cap. Next, she drew from her pocket a small mirror, about the size of a five-shilling piece. this against her books on the table before her, so that the rays of the lamp might fall upon it, she proceeded to admire herself, and twist her flowing hair round her pretty fingers to make a shower of ringlets. Sad vanity for a little born Quakeress! But it must be owned that never did mirror, small or large, give back a more lovely image than that child's. She had just arranged her curls, and was their effect to her entire satisfaction, when back came Patience sooner than she was expected, and caught the young lady at her toilette. What with the curls and what with the mirror, Anna did not know which to hurry away first.
 
"Thee naughty child! Thee naughty, naughty child! What is to become of thee? Where did thee get this?"
 
Anna burst into tears. In her perplexity she said she had "found" the mirror.
 
"That thee did not," said Patience calmly. "I ask thee where thee got it from?"
 
Of a nature, wavering and timid, Anna never withstood long the questioning of Patience. Amid many tears the truth came out. Lucy Dixon had brought it to school in her workbox. It was a doll's mirror, and she, Anna, had given her sixpence for it.
 
"The sixpence that thy father upon thee yesterday for being a good girl," retorted Patience. "I told him thee would likely not make a profitable use of it. Come up to bed with thee! I will talk to thee after thee are in it."
 
Of all things, Anna disliked to be sent to bed before her time. She , expostulated, and promised all sorts of for the future. Patience, firm and quiet, would have carried her point, but for the entrance of Samuel Lynn. The fault was related to him by Patience, and the mirror exhibited. Anna clung around him in a storm of .
 
"Dear father! Dear, dear father, don't thee let me go to bed! Let me sit by thee while thee hast thy supper. Patience may keep the glass, but don't thee let me go."
 
It was quite a picture—the child clinging there with her cheeks, her wet eyelashes, and her soft flowing hair. Samuel Lynn, a man not given to , strained her to him with a loving movement. Perhaps the crime of looking into a doll's glass and toying with her hair appeared to him more than it did to Patience; but then, she was his beloved child.
 
"Will thee again, Anna?"
 
"No, I never will," sobbed Anna.
 
"Then Patience will suffer thee to sit up this once. But thee must be careful."
 
He placed her in a chair close to him. Patience, very much but saying nothing, left the room. Grace appeared with the supper-tray, and a message that Patience would take her supper in the kitchen. It was at this that Mrs. Halliburton came in. She told the Quaker that she had come to consult him about William; and mentioned her intentions.
 
"To tell thee the truth, friend, I have much that thee did not, under thy circumstances, seek to place out thy son," was the answer. "He might be thee."
 
"He is young to earn anything, Mr. Lynn. Do you see a chance of my getting him a place?"
 
"That depends, friend, upon the sort of place he may wish for. I could help him to a place to-morrow. But it is one that may not accord with thy notions."
 
"What is it?" eagerly asked Jane.
 
"It is in Thomas Ashley's manufactory. We are in want of another boy, and the master told me to-day I had better inquire for one."
 
"What would he have to do?" asked Jane. "And what would he earn?"
 
"He would have to do anything he may be directed to do. Thy son is older than are our boys who come to us ordinarily, and he has been differently brought up; therefore I might put him to somewhat better employment. He might also be paid a trifle more. They sweep and dust, go on outdoor errands, carry messages indoors, black the gloves, get in coal; and they earn, if they are sharp, half-a-crown a week."
 
Jane's heart sank within her.
 
"But thy son, I say, might be treated somewhat differently. Not that he must be above doing any of these duties, should he be put to them. I can assure thee, friend, that some of the first ma............