The Mills. 124
XXVIII. Locked In. 127
XXIX. Home. 135
XXX. Aunt Henderson's Mystery. 140
XXXI. Nurse Sampson's Way Of Looking At It. 147
XXXII. Glory Mcwhirk's Inspiration. 152
XXXIII. Last Hours. 157
XXXIV. Mrs. Parley Gimp. 160
XXXV. Indian Summer. 164
XXXVI. Christmastide. 169
XXXVII. The Wedding Journey. 177

FAITH GARTNEY'S GIRLHOOD

CHAPTER I.

"MONEY, MONEY!"

"Shoe the horse and shoe the mare,
And let the little colt go bare."

East or West, it matters not where--the story may, doubtless, indicate
something of latitude and longitude as it proceeds--in the city of
Mishaumok, lived Henderson Gartney, Esq., one of those American
gentlemen of whom, if she were ever canonized, Martha of Bethany must be
the patron saint--if again, feminine celestials, sainthood once achieved
through the weary experience of earth, don't know better than to assume
such charge of wayward man--born, as they are, seemingly, to the life
destiny of being ever "careful and troubled about many things."

We have all of us, as little girls, read "Rosamond." Now, one of
Rosamond's early worries suggests a key to half the worries, early and
late, of grown men and women. The silver paper won't cover the basket.

Mr. Gartney had spent his years, from twenty-five to forty, in
sedulously tugging at the corners. He had had his share of silver paper,
too--only the basket was a little too big.

In a pleasant apartment, half library, half parlor, and used in the
winter months as a breakfast room, beside a table still covered with the
remnants of the morning meal, sat Mrs. Gartney and her young daughter,
Faith; the latter with a somewhat disconcerted, not to say rueful,
expression of face.

A pair of slippers on the hearth and the morning paper thrown down
beside an armchair, gave hint of the recent presence of the master of
the house.

"Then I suppose I can't go," remarked the young lady.

"I'm sure I don't know," answered the elder, in a helpless, worried sort
of tone. "It doesn't seem really right to ask your father for the money.
I did just speak of your wanting some things for a party, but I suppose
he has forgotten it; and, to-day, I