IT was with a sad look upon her wrinkled old face and a heavy weight tugging at her heart, that Grandma Frink unlocked the door of her little cottage one September morning. There came over her the feeling that perhaps she would not go in and out that door many more times. She had heard bad news that morning; the basket of clothes which she brought from the Kingsleys was the last she would have to “do up” for them. They had been her best customers, and now they were all going to Europe for two years at least. Two other families for whom she had worked had already gone away, and with the winter approaching what was the poor lone woman to do! The little cottage was her own; it had been free from debt until two years before the expenses of her husband’s long illness had used up their little savings; and when at length he died, the poor woman was obliged to mortgage her home to pay the doctor’s bill and funeral expenses. Thus far she had been able to keep up the interest, but now work had grown scarce, and pay-day was near at hand, but she had not a cent with which to meet it! Many tears fell into the suds that day, and more fell upon the dainty ruffles which she fluted for the last time. It was while she was putting the finishing touches to Minnie Kingsley’s ruffled and tucked and lace-trimmed dress, that Satie Howe came in, and seeing the tears soon had the whole sad story. And that was the way the “Industry Band” got hold of Grandma Frink’s trouble. With the same energy with which they set about buying a cow for Mrs. Peters, two years before, they now set about lifting another burden from off shoulders too weak to bear it. “You see,” said Satie, telling it to the band, “her heart was just _full_ yesterday, and she told it all out to me. I do not believe anyone would have got it out of her at any other time. It seems that she has a small annuity, which, with the work she can do, makes her very comfortable; but this interest money comes hard, especially as she has less work this summer than usual. Now I thought that if we could pay the interest, perhaps she would get on, and another year she may get more work.” “That would be a good thing to do,” said Lou Brandt, “but it would be better if we could pay the mortgage, then there would be no interest.” “Pay the mortgage!” exclaimed two or three at once in tones which indicated that they thought Lou had taken leave of her wits. “Why not? It is only seventy-five dollars, and it is a great pity if twenty-five boys and girls cannot raise that amount! Satie told me about the trouble, last night, and when father came home I asked him about it and he said that the interest would not help matters, for the mortgage will be due this fall, and Major Grimes means to foreclose if it is not paid up. Granny has lived in that little house forty years; if she were turned out now, she would not know what to do. She has not a relative in the world.”