e time when she too was young and full
of hope and gay spirits.

There was quite a family of these Wilsons in the little house at the
foot of the mountains, in Pennsylvania. The widowed mother, sickly and
almost blind; Bessie, a young lady, the eldest daughter, aged
twenty-three, who taught a very large school for very small pay; then
Katie not quite twelve, and Robbie, the baby, the pet, the boy, who
was only five.

Three years before, their father had been living, and they had enjoyed
all that wealth could bring them. Suddenly he sickened and died, and
then came the dreadful knowledge that he left nothing for his family;
he was deeply in debt to his partner, with whom he had worked a large
coal-mine, and this Mr. Moore was what all people called a "hard man,"
he was old and crabbed, and always wanted and would have every cent
coming to him. Bessie was to have been married to his son, Philip, but
when poverty came to her, the old man refused to let Philip see her
more, and the girl was too proud to go into a family where she was
not wanted, and, beside, she had her poor mother, who had given up
and failed fast after her misfortunes, she had her to look after. So
Bessie taught school; Katie attended to the little home into which
they had moved from the great house on the hill, a noble little
housekeeper she was; Robbie did about as he pleased and was well
content with life, except when neat Katie would seize him and wash his
face with plenty of soap in his eyes, and comb his tangled curls with
a comb that "allus pulled," as he cried.

It was hard for them to pay the rent, to get food and the many
delicacies Mrs. Wilson had always been used to, and now needed more
than ever. Bessie's small wages from her school were taken, every
cent, for these, and Katie was continually bothering her young head
with "ideas" as to how _she_ could make money to help them all. The
autumn leaves were the latest, and it really did seem as though there
were something in it.

The next day was Saturday, Bessie was free from school duties, and so
her little sister had more time at her disposal. Friday evening she
and Robbie gathered a great quantity of bright-colored leaves; the
next morning, bright and early, they were out again; the little back
porch was filled with them.

With her own natural good taste, aided by Bessie's more cultivated
judgment, they made up many neat, beautiful bunches of those
bright-colored droppings from the fore