as his own conviction, also. With his bundle on
his shoulder he trudged on, light of heart, for he was about to see
his mother and sister, both of whom he warmly loved.

CHAPTER III
ANDY AND HIS MOTHER

The house in which the Widow Burke and her daughter lived was a very
humble one. It had not been painted for many years, and the original
coat had worn off, leaving it dark and time-stained. But when Mrs.
Burke came to town, a short time before, it was the only dwelling she
could hire that was held at a rent within her means. So she and Mary,
who was now eleven years old, had moved in their scanty furniture and
made it look as much like a home as possible.

Mrs. Burke had not always been as poor as now. She was the daughter of
an Irish tradesman, and had received quite a good education. In due
time she married a small farmer, who was considered to be in fair
circumstances, but there came a bad year, and misfortunes of various
kinds came together. The last and heaviest of all was fever, which
prostrated her husband on a bed of sickness. Though his wife watched
over him night and day with all the devotion of love, it was all of no
avail. He died, and she found herself left with about a hundred
pounds--after his debts were paid. She was advised to go to America
with her two children, and did so. That was five years before. They
had lived in various places--but the little sum she had left over,
after the passage of the three was paid, had long since melted away,
and she was forced to get a living as she could.

Since she had come to Crampton, leaving Andy at work for a farmer in
the place where they had last lived, she had obtained what sewing she
could from the families in the village, and had besides obtained a
chance to help about the ironing at Colonel Preston's. Washing was too
hard for her, for her strength was not great.

At the time of our introduction she was engaged in making a shirt, one
of half a dozen which she had engaged to make for Dr. Plympton, the
village doctor. She had no idea that Andy was so near, having heard
nothing of his having left his place, but it was of him she was
speaking.

"I wish I could see Andy," she sighed, looking up from her work.

"So do I, mother."

"The sight of him would do my eyes good, he's such a lively lad, Andy
is--always in good spirits."

"Shure, he's got a good heart, mother dear. It wouldn't be so lonely
like if he was here."

"I would send for him if