Lilian Boyd stood up very straight and determined, though her heart sank within her. To give up her cherished wish, to join the great army of shop girls with no hope of advancement in the future! She was almost sixteen; she had been two years in the High School and was a favorite scholar. Two years more and she could teach. It was in the walk of life that she so ardently desired. Tall for her age, vigorous, with courage and earnestness in every line of the face that was fine, now, to the casual observer and might develop into beauty. It was spirited, eager, with a clear complexion, deep blue eyes that in some moods seemed black, while the hair was light and abundant. The brows and lashes were much darker. The features were regular, the chin broad and cleft, but it was the courage and uplift in the face that gave it character. The mother was so different. It was not altogether a weak face but intensely commonplace; the sort of woman who has no ambitions beyond the ordinary round of life. Was it the old story of the eagle in the dove's nest? "You are very tired," she began, presently. "Lie down on the lounge while I get supper." Mrs. Boyd was still crying softly. Lilian kissed her, threw a light shawl over her shoulders, then lighted the gas burner and set on the kettle. She would run out and get a chop for her mother, some for breakfast as well. Yes, she must begin to be the care taker, she had been so engrossed with her studies and giving her help with the sewing they did for a dressmaking establishment that she had hardly noted. She swallowed over a great lump in her throat, it was a bitter sacrifice and yet she must make it. She could not even study during the evenings for she must help with the sewing, and if her mother should be ill! The little supper was tastily arranged, the tea and the chop had an unwonted fragrance. "I'm awfully sorry," said the mother, "but Sally says it is a nice shop and the boss is particular about the kind of girls he has, and to think Sally's earning nine dollars a week now!" "Yes, Sally's a nice pleasant girl," that was all she could trust her voice to say. "And it will be company back and forth. Maybe--sometime--" Oh, had she been right in that long ago time? It seemed ages to her, so much had happened since, and she thought she could not live without the child, but after all the girl was not of her kind. What if she had done her a great wrong! She had never been an introspective woman, her life was mostly on the surface, with commonplace aims and desires. The kitchen was small, the middle room not much larger, but it had two nice windows, the front was on a much neglected street with a big carpenter's shop across the way. They used that for a sleeping room and it had in it the remnant of better days. The sewing room was much more quiet.