“See here, mother,” she said, brightly, “things ain’t quite so bad as you think! In fact, what do you suppose I’ve come back for, if it isn’t to help you?” “What, yew help a father that’s been so hard on yew!” sobbed the woman. “Yew come back to help me, Marion?” gasped her astonished father. Marion slowly drew a roll of bills from the purse in her hand and laid it on her mother’s lap before she answered. “You’ve been hard on us, father, but we forgive you,” she said, gently. “I saved a little girl’s life in New York a day or two ago, and her mother was so grateful that she rewarded me handsomely. There’s five hundred dollars to pay off the mortgage, father, and all I want you to say is that you forgive your little Dollie!” There was a noble light shining from Marion’s eyes. As the old farmer looked up at her he burst out crying. CHAPTER III. A POOR WIFE’S DETERMINATION. It was almost train time when Marion left her father and mother, now radiantly happy in the little farmhouse kitchen. As she walked briskly along the rough, frozen road to the station the young girl’s face was fairly glowing with pleasure. She had saved her sister Dollie, and now she had saved the old home. She could hardly believe it seemed possible that she was still Marion Marlowe. “Just a simple little country girl,” she whispered to herself. “Why, only a few months ago I was driving the cows down this very road and wearing a calico dress and a gingham sunbonnet.” She looked down at her neat cloth dress and her soft fur collar and muff, and a smile of content crossed her beautiful features. “It has been a hard struggle, but I am sure it is nearly over now!” she sighed. “Oh, I shall win fame and fortune yet, I feel sure that I shall! All it needs is the three Ps—‘patience, pluck and perseverance.’” She was just passing the gate of an old red farmhouse now, and her eyes wandered a little curiously over the familiar premises. “Silas Johnson’s farm,” she said, aloud. “Oh, I wonder if he is kind to the poor, unfortunate girl that he married!” Almost as if in answer, a young girl came running down the path. Marion recognized her at once. It was Sallie Green, her old playmate. “Oh, Marion! Marion! How do you do!” cried Sallie. “I knew you in a minute in spite of your lookin’ so stylish!” Marion put her arms around the girl and kissed her tenderly. Sallie was pale and thin, and even homelier than ever. “Oh, Marion! This life is awful!” she said, as soon as she could speak. “It is killing me to live with Sile! You have no idea how cross he is, now that he’s got me where he can boss me!” “But don’t let him ‘boss’ you!” said the young girl, quickly. “Have some will of your own, Sallie, and make him respect it!” “Oh, I can’t! I can’t!” sobbed Sallie, dolefully. “He’d kill me, I believe, he’s so almighty spiteful! He wasn’t so bad at first, but it’s awful now. Why, sometimes, Marion, I believe he just hates me!”