"No, nor paid for," sighed her mother. "Ah, well! We have lived for a good many years, and through several crises which in prospective looked impenetrable, so I suppose we shall find a way." "Like Sentimental Tommy," added Rob. "I'm sure of it." "Perhaps papa will get into business by that time," suggested Prue. "And throw up the invention?" cried Rob, quickly. "That _would_ be foolish!" "I wish I could do something to help," said Oswyth, sadly. "I wonder if I ought not to go in town this fall, even if I could only get a place in a store." "And earn but six dollars a week, out of which you would have to pay your board? We have gone over that many times, dearie, and decided you are more useful here, even if I could allow a young girl like you to go alone into a city boarding-house," said her mother. "You are such a help to me, daughter, that I could not spare you, and you must frame your wish another way." Oswyth looked pensively at her dimpled hands as she held them up over the dish-pan and let the water drip off of each of her ten fingers. "I am going to do something perfectly original right here in Fayre; it is going to bring us money, and be a triumph of several sorts. I have no idea what it will be, but that's my plan," announced Rob. And as her family laughed at a "plan" so very loosely constructed, she waved her brush dramatically for further elucidation, and upset the saucer of blacking, spattering its contents broadcast over the spotless, though worn, oil-cloth covering the floor. "Now, that's just like you, Rob," said Prue, severely. "You're more likely to do mischief with your schemes than to help much." "That is hardly kind or true, Prudy," said her mother. "Rob's schemes usually come to something practically helpful. She's a daring girl, but not a rash one. Never mind, Rob dear; the blacking will easily wipe up. I shouldn't be at all surprised if you hit on a way to get us into a land flowing with milk and honey some day. But you are only sixteen now, and we must find a way to keep us alive in the desert while you finish growing up." A long shadow fell across the door, and the four feminine members of the family looked up to greet its head with a smile. Clad in dark blue serge that hung loosely on his thin frame, Mr. Grey stood surveying the group, smiling back, but not entering. He was tall, handsome, his eyes dark and dreamy, yet with an eager expression in them, as if they had vainly sought that on which they could never rest. He was startlingly pale, except for a bright red spot high on each hollow cheek. Roberta more closely resembled him than either of the other girls, but in expression her rippling, alert brilliancy was wholly unlike the far-off, vague look of the father she worshipped.