o Mrs. Doty, to get some of the wrappers that mother
works on, until something else turns up," replied Ellen.

"It seems a pity."

Ellen smiled bravely. "Beggars mustn't be choosers," she said. "If
we can only keep along, somehow, I don't care."

There came a vehement pound of a stick on the floor, for that was
the way the old woman in the sitting-room commanded attention. Miss
Mitchell opened the door on a crack, that she might not let in the
cold air.

"What is it, mother?" she said.

"You get Ellen a school right away, Fanny."

"All right, mother; I'll do my best."

"Get her the grammar-school you used to have."

"All right, mother."

There was something about the imperative solicitude of the old woman
which comforted Ellen in spite of its futility as she went on her
way. The good-will of another human soul, even when it cannot be
resolved into active benefits, has undoubtedly a mighty force of its
own. Ellen, with the sweet of the cookies still lingering on her
tongue, and the sweet of the old woman's kindness in her soul, felt
refreshed as if by some subtle spiritual cake and wine. She even
went to the door of Mrs. Doty's house. Mrs. Doty was the woman who
let out wrappers to her impecunious neighbors with an undaunted
heart. She had no difficulty there. The demand for cheap wrappers
was not on the wane, even in the hard times. When Ellen reached her
grandmother's house, with a great parcel under her arm, Mrs. Zelotes
opened her side door.

"What have you got there, Ellen Brewster?" she called out sharply.

"Some wrappers," replied Ellen, cheerfully.

"Are you going to work on wrappers?"

"Yes, grandma."

The door was shut with a loud report.

When Ellen entered the house and the sitting-room, her mother looked
up from a pink wrapper which she was finishing.

"What have you got there?" she demanded.

"Some wrappers."

"Why, I haven't finished the last lot."

"These are for me to make, mother."

Andrew got up and went out of the room. Fanny shut her mouth hard,
and drew her thread through with a jerk.

"Well," she said, in a second, "take off your things, and let me
show you how to start on them. There's a little knack about it."

Chapter LVI

That was a hard winter for Rowe. Aside from the financial stress,
the elements seemed to conspire against the people who were so
ill-prepared to meet their fury. It was the coldest winter which had
been known for years; coal was higher,