her mother stood there over the
stove, stirring the stew. She looked up at the girl with an
expression of intense motherliness which was beyond a smile.

"Well, so you've got home?" she said.

"Yes."

"How did you get along?"

"All right. It isn't hard work. Not a bit hard, mother."

"Ain't you tired?"

"Oh, a little. But no more than anybody would be at first. I don't
look very tired, do I?" Ellen laughed.

"No, you don't," said Fanny, looking at her cheeks, reddened with
the damp wind. The mother's look was admiring and piteous and brave.
No one knew how the woman had suffered that day, but she had kept
her head and heart above it. The stew for Ellen's supper was a proof
of that.

"Where's father?" asked Ellen, taking off her hat and cape, and
going to the sink to wash her face and hands. Fanny saw her do that
with a qualm. Ellen had always used a dainty little set in her own
room. Now she was doing exactly as her father had always done on his
return from the shop--washing off the stains of leather at the
kitchen sink. She felt instinctively that Ellen did it purposely,
that she was striving to bring herself into accord with her new life
in all the details.

Little Amabel came running out of the dining-room, and threw her
arms around Ellen's knees as she was bending over the sink. "I've
set the table!" she cried.

"Look out or you'll get all splashed," laughed Ellen.

"And I dusted," said Amabel.

"She's been as good as a kitten all day, and a sight of help," said
Fanny.

"She's a good girl," said Ellen. "Cousin Ellen will kiss her as soon
as she gets her face washed."

She caught hold of a fold of the roller towel, and turned her
beautiful, dripping face to her mother as she did so.

"That stew does smell so good," said she. "Where did you say father
was?"

"I thought we'd just have some bread and milk for dinner, and
somethin' hearty to-night, when you came home," said Fanny. "I
thought maybe a stew would taste good."

"I guess it will," said Ellen, stooping down to kiss Amabel. "Where
did you say father was?"

"Uncle Andrew has been lyin' down all day most," whispered Amabel.

"Isn't he well?" Ellen asked her mother, in quick alarm.

"Oh yes, he's well enough." Fanny moved close to the girl with a
motion of secrecy. "If I were you I wouldn't say one word about the
shop, nor what you did, before father to-night; let him kind of get
used to it. Amabel mustn't talk about it, either."