and the clamor of the birds aroused
in her a winged freedom, so that she felt at once peace and a sort
of ecstasy. She walked in the track of a stolidly plodding man
before her, as different a person as if she were an inhabitant of
another planet. He was digesting the soggy, sweet griddle-cakes
which he had eaten for breakfast, and revolving in his mind two
errands for his wife--one, a pail of lard; the other, three yards of
black dress braid; he was considering the surface scum of existence,
that which pertained solely to his own petty share of it; the girl,
the clear residue of life which was, and had been, and would be.
Each was on the way to humble labor for daily bread, but with a
difference of eternity between them.

But when Ellen reached the end of the cross street where the Atkins
girls lived, she heard a sound which dispelled her rapt state. Her
far vision became a near one; she saw, as it were, the clouded
window-glass between her mortal eyes and the beyond, and the sound
of a cough brought it about. Abby and Maria were coming towards her
through the snow. Maria was coughing violently, and Abby was
scolding her.

"I don't care anything about it, Maria Atkins," Abby was saying,
"you ought to be ashamed of yourself coming out such a morning as
this. There isn't any sense in it. You know you'll catch cold, and
then there'll be two of you to take care of. You don't help a mite
doing so, you needn't think you do."

When Abby caught sight of Ellen she hastened forward, while Maria,
still coughing, trailed behind, lifting her little, heavy,
snow-bound feet wearily.

"Ellen, I wish you'd tell Maria to turn around and go home," she
said. "Just hear her cough, and out in all this snow, and getting
her skirts draggled. She hasn't got common-sense, you tell her so."

Ellen stopped, nodding assentingly. "I think she's right, Maria,"
she said. "You ought not to be out such a morning as this. You had
better go home."

Maria came up smiling, though her lips were quite white, and she
controlled her cough to convulsive motions of her chest.

"I am no worse than usual," said she. "I feel better than I
generally do in the morning. I haven't coughed any more, if I have
as much, and I am holding my dress up high, and you know how warm
the factory is. It will be enough sight warmer than it is at home.
It is cold at home."

"Lloyd don't have to save coal," said Abby, bitterly, "but that
don't alter the fact of your gett