n't it? But you've got a hope to go back. I haven't."
She ended with a sigh, a far-off expression in her eyes. "It almost
killed me to give it up. I don't s'pose I'd know any of the scholars
you know. Even the teachers are not the same. Oh, yes--Sarah Shaw; I
think she's back for the normal course."

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Bert, "I know Sarah. We boarded on the same street;
used t' go home together after class. An awful nice girl, too."

"She's a worker. She teaches school. I can't do that, for mother needs
me at home." There was another pause, broken by the little girl, who
called:

"Maud, mamma wants you."

Maud rose and went out, with a tired smile on her face that emphasized
her resemblance to her mother. Bert couldn't forget that smile, and he
was still thinking about the girl, and what her life must be, when
Hartley came in.

"By jinks! It's _snifty_, as dad used to say. You can't draw a long
breath through your nostrils without freezing y'r nose solid as a
bottle," he announced, throwing off his coat. "By-the-way, I've just
found out why you was so anxious to get into this house. Another case o'
girl, hey?"

Bert blushed; he couldn't help it, notwithstanding his innocence in this
case. "I didn't know it myself till about ten minutes ago," he
protested.

Hartley winked prodigiously.

"Don't tell me! Is she pretty?"

The girl returned at this moment with an armful of wood.

"Let _me_ put it in," cried Hartley, springing up. "Excuse me. My name
is Hartley, book agent: Blaine's _Twenty Years_, plain cloth, sprinkled
edges, three dollars; half calf, three fifty. This is my friend Mr.
Lohr, of Marion; German extraction, soph at the university."

The girl bowed and smiled, and pushed by him toward the door of the
parlor. Hartley followed her in, and Bert could hear them rattling away
at the stove.

"Won't you sit down and play for us?" asked Hartley, after they returned
to the sitting-room. The persuasive music of the book agent was in his
fine voice.

"Oh no! It's nearly dinner-time, and I must help about the table."

"Now make yourselves at home," said Mrs. Welsh, appearing at the door
leading to the kitchen; "if you want anything, just let me know."

"All right. We will," replied Hartley.

By the time the dinner-bell rang they were feeling at home in their new
quarters. At the table they met the usual group of village boarders: the
Brann brothers, newsdealers; old man Troutt, who ran the
livery-sta