t enough to get a horse and carriage, and buy
some nice clothes, and--and get a pretty house. It wouldn't be
anything to him. Mamma says she is sure that he will relent some day."

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. To her mind, it was foolish of her
mother to put any hopes on the whims of an old eccentric. Mrs.
Prescott was one of those poor optimists who believe earnestly in the
miracles of chance, always forgetting that chance works its miracles as
a rule only when the way has been prepared for them by the plodding
labor of common sense.

"We mustn't count on that, Alma," she said soberly. "There is no use
in living on the possibility that Uncle Thomas will relent, and make us
rich. It isn't just for the pure love of money that he has been so
stingy toward us, I believe. He was never a miser toward Father, you
know. I--I think he would have given us everything in the world
if--if----" She hesitated, unwilling to state her private opinion to
Alma.

"If what?"

"Well, you see, I think the trouble was this. Come along, we mustn't
wait here, or you'll catch cold."

"What do you think the trouble was?" prompted Alma, padding after her
sister, and sloshing placidly through the puddles, in all the
nonchalant confidence of sound rubbers.

"Well, Alma, you mustn't misunderstand me. I'm afraid you will. You
know how I adore Mother. She's so pretty, and--and childlike, and
funny that nobody on earth could ever blame her----"

"Blame her? For what?" cried Alma, with sudden fire.

"Nothing. Only, Alma, we must realize that sometimes Mother makes
little mistakes, and I believe that she has had to pay more heavily for
them than she deserves. We've got to try to protect her against them,
by looking at life squarely, and wisely, Alma----"

"Are you going to preach a sermon? What were you going to say about
Uncle Thomas?"

"Just this. You know Uncle Thomas was a very clever man. He made
every bit of his money himself. Father told me long ago that when
Uncle Thomas began in life he did not have a cent in the world; he
started out as a plain mill-hand, and then he became a mechanic, and he
worked his way up from one rung to another, until through his own
talent and pluck he became very, very rich. Well, it's only natural
that a man like that should give money its full value--when he's toiled
for years at so many cents an hour, he knows just exactly how many
cents there are in a dollar. Perhaps he puts too g