dn't sit down," Tom answered in an argumentative way. "I's
clean forgotten how. I stand so long in the corner of the car, with one
hand on the wheel like this," imitating his position in the elevator,
"and one arm going out like this," opening and shutting an imaginary
door, "that I reckon I'll soon be doing it in my sleep. It ain't natural
for an elevator boy to sit."

Hertha's mouth drooped, and yet her heart glowed at her boy's
thoughtfulness. From his entrance at the basement door until he left she
knew he would look after her and see that she suffered nothing from his
presence in her white home.

"Tell me first if they're all well?" she asked.

"Yes'm, they're doing nicely. Mammy's been ailing some this winter,
Ellen says, but she's a heap better now."

"What's been the matter?" Hertha questioned sharply.

"Oh, just ailing," Tom said vaguely. "There ain't anything rightly the
matter."

"But she's better now?"

"Oh, yes, and Ellen's had a good year at school and the hens are laying.
Mammy told about the eggs they had for Sunday breakfast."

"Truly?" Hertha said. "What Sunday?"

"Last Sunday," Tom answered and drew a letter from Ellen out of his
pocket.

As he read her all the homely news of the school and cabin her eyes
filled with tears though she did not let them fall; only when he was
done she asked for the letter and received it.

"And now," she demanded, turning on Tom with a show of severity, "what
are you doing in New York? Don't you know you ought to be in school?"

"Yes'm," he answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and
smiling ingratiatingly.

"What's happened?" Hertha's voice changed from one of severity to one of
curiosity.

"Well," Tom made answer, "it weren't such a great show there, so I up
and left."

"I didn't suppose you'd do such a thing! What was the matter anyway?"

"They was always rushing a feller. They didn't give yer any time to
think."

"Tom!" Hertha broke into laughter, such peals of laughter that the cook,
back in the kitchen, listened and smiled as she wrung out her dishcloth,
glad that her favorite in the house, who never made a mite of trouble,
was having a good time.

"It weren't a bad place," Tom went on, indulgent to the school, not
wishing to do it an injustice, "there's some as likes to jump about like
a chicken with its head cut off, but I like a chance to think. You'd
have found it right pretty, Hertha--a river not so big as ours but full