of it. Her mother had cried when she left home--it was a
girl's birthright to be well cried over--Pearlie Watson would not go
forth unwept!

"Cheer up, Ma," said Pearl kindly, "I'm not going to jail, and I'm not
taking the veil or going across the sea. I can call you up for fifteen
cents, and I'll be bringing you home my washing every two weeks--so I
will not be lost entirely."

Mrs. Watson rocked herself disconsolately back and forth in her chair,
and the sound of her sobs filled the kitchen. Mrs. Watson was having a
good time, although appearances would not bear out the statement.

"It's the first break, Pearlie, that's what I'm thinkin'--and every
night when I lock the door, I'll be lockin' you out--not knowin' where
ye are. When a family once breaks you never can tell if they'll ever
all be together again--that's what frightens me. It was bad enough
when you went to the city--and I never slept a wink for two nights
after you'd gone. But this is worse, for now you're doin' for yourself
and away from us that way."

"Gosh, Ma," spoke up Mary, "you sure cry easy; and for queer things. I
think it's grand that Pearl can get out and earn money, and then when
I get my entrance, I'll go to the city and be a teacher too. You're
going to get back what you've spent on us, ma, and you ought to be in
great humor. I'm just as proud of Pearl as I can hold, and I'll be
tellin' the kids at school about my sister who is Principal of the
Purple Springs School."

"Principal, Assistant and Janitor," laughed Pearl, "that gives a
person some scope--to be sure."

Mrs. Watson hurriedly put up the ironing-board, and set to work. She
would get Pearl ready, though she did it with a heavy heart.

Pearl finished her sewing and then went upstairs to make her small
wardrobe ready for her departure, and although she stepped quickly and
in a determined fashion, there was a pain, a lonely ache in her heart
which would not cease, a crying out for the love which she had hoped
would be hers.

"I wonder if I will ever get to be like ma," she thought, as she lined
the bottom of her little trunk with brown paper, and stuffed tissue
paper into the sleeves of her "good dress," "I wonder! Well, I hope I
will be like her in some ways, but not in this mournful stuff--I won't
either. I'll sing when I feel it coming on me--I will not go mourning
all my days--not for any one!"

She began to sing:--

"Forgotten you? Yes, if forgetting
Is thinking a