eant to sell that pitcher, and if so, no wonder he broke
his leg. By-the-way, what became of the pieces?"

"I picked them up," said Grace.

CHAPTER V.

CEMENTS AND RIVETS.

"How did we ever consent to let our middle daughter stay away all these
years, mother?" said Dr. Wainwright, addressing his wife.

"I cannot tell how it happened, father," she said, musingly. "I think we
drifted into the arrangement, and you know each year brother was
expected to bring her back Harriet would plan a jaunt or a journey which
kept her away, and then, Jack, we've generally been rather out at the
elbows, and I have been so helpless, that, with our large family, it was
for Grace's good to let her remain where she was so well provided for."

"She's clear grit, isn't she?" said the doctor, admiringly, stalking to
and fro in his wife's chamber. "I didn't half like the notion of her
giving readings; but Charley Raeburn says the world moves and we must
move with it, and now that her object is not purely a selfish one, I
withdraw my opposition. I confess, though, darling, I don't enjoy the
thought that my girls must earn money. I feel differently about the
boys."

"Jack, dear," said his wife, tenderly, always careful not to wound the
feelings of this unsuccessful man who was still so loving and so full of
chivalry, "you needn't mind that in the very least. The girl who doesn't
want to earn money for herself in these days is in the minority. Girls
feel it in the air. They all fret and worry, or most of them do, until
they are allowed to measure their strength and test the commercial worth
of what they have acquired. You are a dear old fossil, Jack. Just look
at it in this way: Suppose Mrs. Vanderhoven, brought up in the purple,
taught to play a little, to embroider a little, to speak a little
French--to do a little of many things and nothing well--had been given
the sort of education that in her day was the right of every gentleman's
son, though denied the gentleman's daughter, would her life be so hard
and narrow and distressful now? Would she be reduced to taking in fine
washing and hemstitching, and canning fruit?"

"Canning fruit, mother dear," said Miriam, who had just come in to
procure fresh towels for the bedrooms, "is a fine occupation. Several
women in the United States are making their fortunes at that. Eva and I,
who haven't Grace's talents, are thinking of taking it up in earnest. I
can make preserves, I rejoice to s