When all was finished the mother and daughters entered the large room adjoining the kitchen, which served as sitting-room for the family and bed-room for the parents, Mr. Stillman not permitting a fire kept in any other room in the house. Mrs. Stillman sat down with her knitting-work as close in the corner as possible; Elizabeth brought in a large basket of rags, and she and Margaret were soon busy sewing strips and winding balls for a carpet. The younger children were absorbed in their lessons at the table, where the father sat reading his newspaper. All were silent, for to have spoken while father was reading would have been an unforgivable offence. At last, however, Mr. Stillman lifted his eyes from the paper, and addressing Tom, said: "Well, how did you get along at school to-day?" "Oh, first rate," said the boy; but that lost head mark rankled in his mind, and he added, "Rachel was called up by the teacher." "How was that, Rachel?" said her father sharply. Poor girl!--deep in the mysteries of long division, she did not hear him. "Rachel," he repeated, "what were you called up in school for to-day?" She glanced reproachfully at Tom. "I read a little in 'The Pilgrim's Progress,' father. It's not a story-book--" "Never mind what it is. I send you to school to study, and you're not to touch any but your school-books." "May I bring it home?" she faltered. "Bring it home, indeed! No, miss. I guess you can find enough to do at home. Not another word more, or you will stay at home for good." The child bent over her slate; but tears would come, and at last a sob burst forth. "Clear out to bed, Rachel," said her father angrily. "I want no snivelling here." Upstairs, in the cold, dark room, what bitter thoughts surged through the childish brain! Mr. Stillman loved his wife and children. He wanted them to be happy, but in his way. He must choose their pleasures. If they could not be satisfied with what he chose for them, it was not his fault; it was their perversity. And as no two souls are alike, the attempt to fit a number of them by the same pattern necessarily caused suffering to the souls undergoing the operation. Mrs. Stillman's sensitive organization was completely crushed; her eldest daughter's nearly so. Martha, the second daughter, had escaped by marrying a clever young man, who first pitied, then loved the daughter of his employer, and persuaded her to elope with him, assuring her of a happier home than she had with her father. The marriage angered Mr. Stillman greatly, and all intercourse with the disobedient daughter was forbidden. Margaret, the third daughter, also rebelled at the fitting process; and having a goodly portion of her father's determination, many were the sharp words that passed between them.