e should think our father just perfect,
and for that reason she drew him into this quiet life that we always
have lived. If he wanted to spend money foolishly, she never objected.
She hoped that by not opposing any wish he would get wholly well. Part
of this Cleena has told me, for she thought we ought to know, now, and
part the doctor said. Oh, Hal, I think it will be grand, grand, to take
care of him as nearly like she did as we can. Don't you?"

Hallam's eyes sparkled. "Amy, I always said she was the most beautiful
woman in the world, in character as well as person."

"To us, she certainly was. My plan is this: I will go to Mr. Metcalf and
ask him to give me a place in the mill. If those other girls can work,
so can I."

"Do you know who owns the mills now?"

"Yes; our cousin Archibald Wingate."

"And you would work for him? You would demean yourself to that? Yet you
know how, when he offered us money last week, or to do other things for
us, both father and I indignantly declined."

"Yes, I know. I, too, was glad we didn't have to take it, though I do
not believe he is as bad as we think. We look at him from _this_ side;
but if we could from the _other_, he might not seem so hard-hearted. He
said he was sorry. He seemed to feel very badly."

"Yes, and when he came and asked Cleena to let him see--her, just once
more, she gave him a reproof that must have struck home. She told him he
was practically the cause of mother's death,--his driving her from
Fairacres,--and I shall always feel so, too."

"I hope not, dear."

"Well, I hate him. I hope I can sometime make him suffer all he has made
us."

"But, Hal, that is vindictive. To be vindictive is not half as noble as
to be just. Mother was just. While it grieved her to leave her home, she
fully appreciated how much he must long for it. It was their
grandmother's, you know, and he felt he had a right there. I do not
blame him half as much as I pity him. He's such a lonely old fellow, it
seems to me."

"Humph! I wouldn't work for him and take his money. I should feel as if
it were tainted."

For a moment Amy was staggered by this view of her brother's. Then it
dropped into its proper place in the argument, and she went on:--

"It would be pleasanter to work for somebody else. But there _is_ nobody
else. I think Mr. Wingate has very little to do with the employees of
the mill. It's Mr. Metcalf who pays them, and he's a dear, good friend
already. I'm going t