Charity helps me sometimes. I want to tell you that I have grown very fond of Charity. Her father is no account. He has gone away and her mother has to work out as a cook. That leaves Charity all alone until nine o’clock at night, so sometimes she comes up to see me. One afternoon, just before Christmas, I didn’t get home until seven at night, and I found Charity in the kitchen ironing. She had climbed up the fire-escape, opened the kitchen window, and dropped in. She looked up and said, “You bet now, I surprised you.” But when I looked at the ironing I was more surprised. I couldn’t have done it better. Of course, I asked her to stay to supper, and we had griddle cakes and maple syrup and we talked about you. Then I told Charity stories. She didn’t know Cinderella, or Jack and the Beanstalk, and it was a real comfort to have her put her arms around me and bid me good-night. For it was Christmas Eve, Hazel dear. When she left I cuddled the kitty. I gave her a collar with a bell on it for Christmas. We are having snow and cold east winds, while you are playing in the sunshine without a coat. Mr. Perkins pretends to be very provoked every time I see him, and says Boston has the finest climate in the world, but I am glad you are escaping it. It has snowed and thawed and rained and snowed again all in twenty-four hours. The ladies in the church sewing-circle sent a box last week to a school for colored children at Jonesville. They tell me that it is quite near you. I wonder if you have heard of it. I hope you are getting stronger every day, darling, and that when you come home Charity will have to lend you her clothes, you will be so plump. Give Granny my love, and kiss pussy Lucy for me to-night. I have named my kitten for you. Your loving, MOTHER. CHAPTER VII THAT OLD TIME RELIGION The Lee family had left their cabin up the road and were on their way to church. They were all out this Sunday evening, old man Lee, sober for once, his wife, Scipio, a heavy, solemn-looking boy of thirteen, Julius, Theora, Thomas and Ezekiel. Mother Lee had evidently long since given up keeping all her children’s clothes in repair. Her boys’ garments were few and ragged. But upon her little girl she had attempted some embellishment. Theora’s crinkly hair was tied with a piece of bright cotton cloth, and on her feet were shoes and stockings. The family caught up with Granny and Hazel, and the mother felt a sullen resentment at Hazel’s dress. The child wore her blue coat, and a dark blue hat with a grey quill. She nodded pleasantly to her neighbors, but kept close to Granny’s side. She was afraid of old man Lee whom she had seen one night staggering past her home, and his children seemed dull. Granny, who had a kindly word for everyone, talked with the mother, and Hazel watched the deepening twilight.