satisfied that they would do. They were in the rear.
One was quite large, and, in the crude estimation of the brick-mason,
rather well furnished, for it held a massive walnut bureau with a marble
top and wide mirror lighted on both sides by globed gas-jets, one of
which was pink, the other frosted white. There was a big rosewood sofa
against a wall, also a rocking-chair, a center-table, a wide walnut
bedstead, and an ample alcove containing running water, and a basin and
towels. The other was the typical hall room with a narrow iron bed, a
chair, a wash-stand, a rug, a row of hooks on the wall for clothing over
which hung a calico dust-curtain, and a single window.

"I suppose this might do for the little girl," suggested Mrs. McGwire,
affably. "Children don't need much room. She is a relative, I presume?"

"My sister. We are orphans," John said, casually enough, considering the
unlooked-for demand on his resources. "My sister Dora. But I would want
her to have the other room. I can bunk anywhere. I want to put her into
the public school here, and she ought to have a cheerful place to study
in at night and sit in through the day. I shall be away at work."

"Fine, fine! I like that in you." Mrs. McGwire smiled affably. "I'm a
widow with three children to bring up (that is why I am running this
house) and I certainly appreciate such consideration for a child as you
show. I have a boy of thirteen, a girl of eleven, and another of eight.
If you stay here the older ones, Harold and Betty, might be able to help
start your sister out on her studies."

"That would be nice," John responded. "She is a country girl and never
has been to school at all."

Just here a rather tall, slender boy with the face of a student opened
the door of a room at the far end of the passage and came forward.

"This is my big son," Mrs. McGwire said, smiling. "This is Harold. The
doctor says he studies too hard, but I simply can't make him stop it."

The lad smiled politely, put his arm about his mother's waist, and said:
"Somebody has taken my concordance. I left it with my other books, and
it is gone."

"Oh, I forgot," Mrs. McGwire said, indulgently. "Mr. King (he is our
minister)"--this last to John. "He was looking over your books this
morning and he took it down to the parlor with him. It is there."

"Thank you, mother," the boy said, and went down the stairs.

"I'm very proud of my son," Mrs. McGwire said, looking after the boy
with b