We were ushered to the parlor by a waiter, who seemed struck by Temperance, and who was treated by her with respect.

"Mr.Shepherd, the landlord, himself, I guess," she whispered.
Three cadaverous children were there eating bread and butter from a black tray on the center-table.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Temperance, "what bread those children are eating! It is made of sawdust." "It's good, you old cat," screamed the little girl.
Veronica sat down by her, and offered her some sugar-plums, which the child snatched from her hand.
"We are missionaries," said the oldest boy, "and we are going to Bombay next week in the _Cabot_.

I'll make the natives gee, I tell ye." "Mercy on us!" exclaimed Temperance, "did you ever ?" Presently a sickly, gentle-looking man entered, in a suit of black camlet, and carrying an umbrella; he took a seat by the children, and ran his fingers through his hair, which already stood upright.
"That girl gave Sis some sugar-plums," remarked the boy.
"I hope you thanked her, Clarissa," said the father.
"No; she didn't give me enough," the child answered.
"They have no mother," the poor man said apologetically to Veronica, looking up at her, and, as he caught her eye, blushing deeply.

She bowed, and moved away.

Mother rang the bell, and when the waiter came gave him a note for Mr.Shepherd, which father had written, bespeaking his attention.