This was promising more than Mrs. Robertson was able to perform perhaps, for she was a chronic and inveterate grumbler. But she had some excuse in the present circumstances, for Katie was, as she said, her baby, and the "apple of her eye." Married when quite young to the handsome and intelligent young village doctor, she certainly had not expected ever to be placed in a position where her children, her girls at least, would need to earn their own bread. But in a few short years the doctor died of a contagious disease he had taken from one of his patients, and as he had not yet begun to accumulate anything, his young widow was left with her three children to struggle along as best she could. How she had done it God and herself only knew. The little house was her own, the sole patrimony left by her own father. The horse and buggy, the medical library and valuable professional instruments, medicines, etc., were sold at a fair valuation; and the money thus secured, deposited in the bank, had served as a last resource whenever the barrel of meal failed or the cruse of oil ran dry. For the rest, Mrs. Robertson was employed by her neighbors to help turn and put down carpets, cover furniture, etc. etc., light jobs requiring judgment and skill rather than strength, for which her friends, who never placed her in a menial capacity, gladly paid double the sum they would to any one else. She was also a capital nurse, and in this position rendered herself very valuable in many households, and for such services she was even more generously remunerated; so that somehow she managed to keep her head above water while her children were small, and feed, clothe, and send them to school as they grew older. Her children were, of course, the one source of consolation left to the poor widow, and many a long evening's work was both shortened and lightened by golden dreams of their future prosperity and success. When her eldest boy Eric was twelve, and when Alfred, the second child, was only ten, a friend made interest with Mr. Sanderson, superintendent of the bookbindery, auxiliary to the Squantown Paper Mills, to give the two boys steady employment, and since that time, four years ago, their earnings, small but certain, had greatly helped in the family expenses. Both were noble, manly fellows, with, as yet, no bad habits. They brought their mother all that they earned, and were quite content to pass their evenings with her and their little sister. Katie, who was now thirteen, had always attended the public school in the village, of course helping her mother with the housework and sewing. She was a delicate little creature, small for her years, but bright and intelligent, a general favorite with the village children as well as with her Sunday-school teacher, Miss Etta Mountjoy, who was not so very many years older than herself.