ese were the things that
appealed to her, that she enjoyed in every fibre of her being. She
glanced at her mother. Why the face was almost stolid! Oh, that was
wicked! She had been so good and kind. Was it not the hard grind of
poverty and hopeless work, never making any advance, that quenched the
vitality of soul and brain? She must make her mark before hope dropped
out of the years. She had watched her teachers in a curious manner,
though she was too young to understand analysis of character. Some were
favorites, some had favorites, girls who were of the noted families or
had prosperity back of them. There were others, one she had liked very
much who seemed to study with you, to help you to understand. Her
classes always had many of the finest pupils. That was the kind of
teacher she meant to be.

Of course there had been slights, sometimes sneers. These lilies of the
field in their fine array longed to crowd their mates out in the arid,
dusty highway. She stood her ground and she was a fine scholar. She was
helpful, too; she had no sneers or cruel laughs over the blunders of
others.

A few of her mates were truly sorry to part with her and surprised to
find she was going to a high-up Seminary to be trained for a teacher.
The teacher she liked so much was away on her vacation.

So they left the old noisy, dirty factory city. It was Lilian's first
journey in the great world. And oh how large and beautiful it was! They
passed thriving towns, beautiful villages, great fields of waving corn,
fruit orchards, then towns again, rivers, lakes, high hills cleft by
rocky passes that sparkled in places as if set by gems. Then stretches
so serene so instinct with fairy beauty she drew long breaths and
dreamed of delightful futures, and what is a girl of sixteen filled with
a love of beauty and ambition worth if she cannot dream some grand
ventures.

Mrs. Boyd was not interested in the scenery. She gave a quiet assent to
the girl's enthusiasms and presently Lilian ceased to appeal. It was so
when she had read stirring prose or exquisite poetry aloud.

Mrs. Boyd was going over her past life. It had been much in her mind
the last year. A commonplace factory girl earning her living, an orphan
at that. Her dream was a lover, presently, marriage, a little home, and
keeping it tidy, and babies of her very own. The lover came, a nice
steady machinist with a little education, saving up money, marriage and
the home of a few rooms, bu