The little property of her father was sold for the payment of his debts, and Nellie, who was then but twelve years old, was obliged to labor both early and late for her daily bread.  Her father had lived near the city of New York, and not long after his death she procured a situation in a wealthy family of that city.  She was called “the girl to do chores,” which meant that she was kept running from garret to cellar, from parlor to kitchen, first here and then there, from earliest dawn to latest evening.  It was almost always eleven o’clock before she could steal away to her low bed in the dark garret, and often, in the loneliness of the night, would the desolate child pray that the God with whom her parents dwelt would look in pity upon the helpless orphan.

Ere long her prayer was answered, for there came to the house where she lived a gentleman and lady, who saw the “little kitchen girl.”  Something there was in her sad but intelligent face which attracted their notice, and they inquired her history of Mrs. Stanley, the lady with whom she lived.

“She is,” said Mrs. Stanley, “a good enough girl, if she would only let books alone; but she seems to have a passion for study, quite unsuitable for one in her station.  When she is cleaning the knives she will have a book before her; and instead of singing the baby to sleep, she will get down and read to her, or repeat something which she has learned.”

“And has she no relatives?” asked the gentleman.

“None living that I know of,” said Mrs. Stanley; and then she added, “Nellie says she had a brother who was several years older than herself, and that three years ago he was one morning missing, and they found on his table a letter, saying that he had gone to sea on a whaling voyage, and would be gone three years.  Her father afterward heard that the vessel in which his son sailed was supposed to be lost with all its crew.  This is her story; but you can never tell how much to believe of the stories which such girls tell.”

“Did you ever detect her in a falsehood?” asked the gentleman.

“Why, no, I never did; but of course she will equivocate, for all such paupers will.”

“With whom did she live before she came here?” continued the gentleman.

“With a Mr. Barnard,” answered Mrs. Stanley; and she continued laughingly, “You had better inquire about her of him, as you seem so much interested in her.  He lives out a few miles in the country.”

The result of the conversation was that the Mr. Barnard mentioned above received the next day a call from a stranger, who made particular inquiry about little Helen Ashton.  He seemed satisfied with the result, and as he had before learned that Mr. Barnard was a very good, honest man, he handed him five hundred dollars, telling him to take Nellie home—­as she called Mr. Barnard’s house—­and to send her for two years to the district school.  At the end of that time he would furnish funds for her to be educated in New Haven.