"Why, mother!" cried Alma again, hurrying across the room and dropping on her knees at her mother's side. "I can't, Alma, I can't!" moaned the woman. "I've tried an' tried; but I've got ter give up, I've got ter give up." "Can't what, dearie?--give up what?" demanded Alma. Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands and looked fearfully into her daughter's face. "An' yer father, too, Alma--he's tried, an' he can't," she choked. "Tried what? What _do_ you mean?" With her eyes on Alma's troubled, amazed face, Mrs. Kelsey made one last effort to gain her lost position. She raised her shaking hands to her throat and fumbled for the pin and the collar. "There, there, dear, don't fret," she stammered. "I didn't think what I was sayin'. It ain't nothin'--I mean, it _aren't_ nothin'--it _am_ not--oh-h!" she sobbed; "there, ye see, Alma, I can't, I can't. It ain't no more use ter try!" Down went the gray head on Alma's strong young shoulder. "There, there, dear, cry away," comforted Alma, with loving pats. "It will do you good; then we'll hear what this is all about, from the very beginning." And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning. When the telling was over, and the little woman, a bit breathless and frightened, sat awaiting what Alma would say, there came a long silence. Alma's lips were close shut. Alma was not quite sure, if she opened them, whether there would come a laugh or a sob. The laugh was uppermost and almost parted the firm-set lips, when a side glance at the quivering face of the little woman in the big chair turned the laugh into a half-stifled sob. Then Alma spoke. "Mother, dear, listen. Do you think a silk dress and a stiff collar can make you and father any dearer to me? Do you think an 'ain't' or a 'hain't' can make me love either of you any less? Do you suppose I expect you, after fifty years' service for others, to be as careful in your ways and words as if you'd spent those fifty years in training yourself instead of in training six children? Why, mother, dear, do you suppose that I don't know that for twenty of those years you have had no thoughts, no prayers, save for me?--that I have been the very apple of your eye? Well, it's my turn, now, and you are the apple of my eye--you and father. Why, dearie, you have no idea of the plans I have for you. There's a good strong woman coming next week for the kitchen work. Oh, it's all right," assured Alma, quickly, in response to the look on her mother's face. "Why, I'm rich! Only think of those orders! And then you shall dress in silk or velvet, or calico--anything you like, so long as it doesn't scratch nor prick," she added merrily, bending forward and fastening the lace collar. "And you shall----" "Ma-ry?" It was Nathan at the foot of the back stairway. "Yes, Nathan." "Ain't it 'most supper-time?" "Bless my soul!" cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing to her feet. "An', Mary----" "Yes." "Hain't I got a collar--a b'iled one, on the bureau up there?"