for some time. I wonder what made him
faint. Maybe he ate something which hurt him."

Ellen said nothing. She fled up-stairs to her chamber, as her
grandmother entered the bedroom. She felt cowardly, but she thought
that she would let her mother tell the news.

She sat down and waited. She knew that presently she would hear the
old woman's voice at the foot of the stairs. She was resolved upon
her course, and knew that she could not be shaken in it, yet she
dreaded unspeakably the outburst of grief and anger which she knew
would come from her grandmother. She felt as if she had faced two
fires, and now before the third she quailed a little.

It was not long before the expected summons came.

"Ellen--Ellen Brewster, come down here!"

Ellen went down. Her grandmother met her at the foot of the stairs.
She was trembling from head to foot; her mouth twisted and wavered
as if she had the palsy.

"Look here, Ellen Brewster, this ain't true?" she stammered.

"Yes, grandma," answered Ellen. "I have thought it all over, and it
is the only thing for me to do."

Her grandmother clutched her arm, and the girl felt as if she were
in the grasp of another will, which was more conclusive than steel.

"You sha'n't!" she said, whispering, lest Andrew should hear, but
with intense force.

"I've got to, grandma. We've got to have the money."

"The money," said the old woman, with an inflection of voice and a
twist of her features indicative of the most superb scorn--"the
money! I guess you ain't goin' to lose such a chance as that for
money. I guess I've got two hundred and ten dollars a year income,
and I'll give up a half of that, and Andrew can put a mortgage on
the house, if that Tenny woman has got to be supported because her
husband has run off and left her and her young one. You sha'n't go
to work in a shop."

"I've got to, grandma," said Ellen.

The old woman looked at her. It was like a duel between two strong
wills of an old race. "You sha'n't," she said.

"Yes, I shall, grandma."

Then the old woman turned upon her in a fury of rage.

"You're a Loud all over, Ellen Brewster," said she. "You 'ain't got
a mite of Brewster about you. You 'ain't got any pride! You'd just
as soon settle down and work in a shop as do anything else."

Fanny pushed before her. "Look here, Mother Brewster," said she,
"you can just stop! Ellen is my daughter, and you 'ain't any right
to talk to her this way. I won't have it. If anybo