"It seems almost a pity that your children should be obliged to perform mill-work. My brother says that Alfred shows quite an uncommon taste for natural science, especially chemistry. And I think our little Katie would, after a few years' study, make a capital teacher, and you know she would make a great deal more money in that way than she ever can in the mill, with much less expenditure of time and strength." "Yes," said Mrs. Robertson, with a sigh. "I never thought that my husband's children would have to work for a living." "Working for a living is not degrading, Mrs. Robertson. The doctor himself did that." "Of course. But he did it as a gentleman--not in a mill." "My father and brother, too, earn their livings in a mill, and neither they nor we feel at all degraded by it," said Eunice, quietly. "Only, if your boy has talents which will fit him for a profession beneficial to the human race, like that of his father's, it seems almost a pity that they should not be cultivated. Depend upon it, self-support is always honorable, for man or woman, and we should consider our work high or low, not because it is considered 'genteel' or not, but because it does or does not do the most good. I wish that something could turn up to help both Alfred and Katie to better educations, for I believe they might thus do a great deal more good." And Mrs. Robertson wished so too. But she was wise enough not to say anything to her children about it. Better things were in store for the children, however, than their mother's heart had dared to hope for; and for once she felt thoroughly ashamed of her murmurings and want of faith. One evening toward spring, when the merry group came from school more noisily than usual, and, as usual, greatly in want of their delayed supper, they were all slightly astonished to see a light in the window of the seldom-used sitting-room. They noticed, as they went in, a strange hat in the hall. "What can your mother be doing in the best room?" said Tessa, as she and Katie reached their own room. Tessa was always inquisitive, and the sight of a strange man's hat had greatly excited her curiosity. "I am sure I don't"--but at that moment the girls were interrupted by Alfred, who rushed in without knocking, and shouted, though quite out of breath with excitement:-- "Katie! Katie! Mother wants you! Come quick! Who do you suppose is here? It's Uncle Alfred--all the way from California! Isn't it splendid?" "I didn't know we had an uncle in California, did you?" said Katie. But there was no opportunity for her brother to answer, as by this time they had reached the parlor door, which stood open now, and both children were warmly embraced by a gentleman whom at first neither of them could see.