When they arose breakfast was always ready. When they returned at night supper was waiting. Each of the children received a due share of Mrs. Gerhardt’s attention. The little baby was closely looked after by her. She protested that she needed neither clothes nor shoes so long as one of the children would run errands for her. Jennie, of all the children, fully understood her mother; she alone strove, with the fullness of a perfect affection, to ease her burden. “Ma, you let me do this.” “Now, ma, I’ll ’tend to that.” “You go sit down, ma.” These were the every-day expressions of the enduring affection that existed between them. Always there was perfect understanding between Jennie and her mother, and as the days passed this naturally widened and deepened. Jennie could not bear to think of her as being always confined to the house. Daily she thought as she worked of that humble home where her mother was watching and waiting. How she longed to give her those comforts which she had always craved! CHAPTER XIV The days spent in the employ of the Bracebridge household were of a broadening character. This great house was a school to Jennie, not only in the matter of dress and manners, but as formulating a theory of existence. Mrs. Bracebridge and her husband were the last word in the matter of self-sufficiency, taste in the matter of appointments, care in the matter of dress, good form in the matter of reception, entertainment, and the various usages of social life. Now and then, apropos of nothing save her own mood, Mrs. Bracebridge would indicate her philosophy of life in an epigram. “Life is a battle, my dear. If you gain anything you will have to fight for it.” “In my judgment it is silly not to take advantage of any aid which will help you to be what you want to be.” (This while applying a faint suggestion of rouge.) “Most people are born silly. They are exactly what they are capable of being. I despise lack of taste; it is the worst crime.” Most of these worldly-wise counsels were not given directly to Jennie. She overheard them, but to her quiet and reflective mind they had their import. Like seeds fallen upon good ground, they took root and grew. She began to get a faint perception of hierarchies and powers. They were not for her, perhaps, but they were in the world, and if fortune were kind one might better one’s state. She worked on, wondering, however, just how better fortune might come to her. Who would have her to wife knowing her history? How could she ever explain the existence of her child? Her child, her child, the one transcendent, gripping theme of joy and fear. If she could only do something for it—sometime, somehow!