Lilian cleared away the things. Mrs. Boyd went back to the lounge. Then the girl went down the street. She had best make her sacrifice at once, it was not a subject to ponder over and she realized it had been a big black cloud hanging about her the last month. Sally's mother sat out on the small porch gossiping with a neighbor. "Oh, Lily Boyd," she exclaimed. "Sally was coming up on Saturday but she had to fly round like a bee in a flower garden. It want her turn to go to the Rest House, but the other girl couldn't--sickness at home. So Sally went in her place. Splendid, isn't it! And board only two dollars a week. I tell Sally she's got the nicest boss we've ever heard about. She'll be home Sat'day night and tell you all about it." "Yes, I want to see her. No, I can't stay. Oh, mother does not seem very well. Good-night." Lilian did not go straight home. This was the old part of the town there were no real cottages and little gardens fragrant with flowers, but people were huddled in them. There would presently be factories and tenement houses. She was making a sharp, desperate fight. Strong natures have to. Why was she born with these ambitions and aims and capabilities and the ardent desire to do something? All girls did not have them. Some in the class laughed and made merry without a thought of the future. Some expected to teach and 'just hated it.' She would have been so glad. Well the dream must be given up--at least for years. It would be horrible to count on her mother's death for freedom. She shuddered. They went to bed, but neither of them slept until after midnight. Now and then Lilian heard a soft sob. She felt that she ought to comfort her mother, but what could she say? Since she had been growing up she had become aware of a barrier between them. Mrs. Boyd had loved her fervently as a little girl, she had not taken any special pride in her entering the High School with such a fine record. She was in no sense an ambitious or an intellectual woman and the girl's vigor and intentness sometimes frightened her. She should have been in some other sphere. Lilian sank into a sort of dull apathy, questioning everything as youth often does under a great disappointment. What was the use of living if one could never attain the things one desired? She was not like Sally nor dozens of other girls. Their commonplace lives would be martyrdom to her. So they both slept late. Lilian prepared the simple breakfast. "Perhaps it would be a good thing to get out last winter's clothes and see what can be fixed over," said the mother. "But you have grown so much this year, Lilian." Oh, if clothes mattered, if anything mattered! There was the postman's whistle. Quite a thick letter for her mother in a neat lady's hand. "Why that's funny," and a smile brightened the girl's face.