a boarder, Nettie."

"A boarder, mother!--What for?"

"Heaven knows!--if it isn't to break my back, and my heart together. I
thought I had enough to manage before, but here's this man coming, and
I've got to get everything ready for him by to-morrow night."

"Who is it, mother?"

"It's one of your father's friends; so it's no good," said Mrs.
Mathieson.

"But where can he sleep?" Nettie asked, after a moment of thinking. Her
mother paused.

"There's no room but yours he can have. Barry wont be moved."

"Where shall I sleep, mother?"

"There's no place but up in the attic. I'll see what I can do to fit up
a corner for you--if I ever can get time," said Mrs. Mathieson, taking
up her pail. Nettie followed her example, and certainly did not smile
again till they reached the house. They went round to the front door,
because the back door belonged to another family. At the door, as they
set down their pails again before mounting the stairs, Nettie smiled at
her mother very placidly, and said--

"Don't you go to fit up the attic, mother; I'll see to it in time. I can
do it just as well."

Mrs. Mathieson made no answer but groaned internally, and they went up
the flight of stairs which led to their part of the house. The ground
floor was occupied by somebody else. A little entry way at the top of
the stairs received the wooden pail of water, and with the tin one
Nettie went into the room used by the family. It was her father and
mother's sleeping-room, their bed standing in one corner. It was the
kitchen apparently, for a small cooking-stove was there, on which Nettie
put the tea-kettle when she had filled it. And it was the common
living-room also; for the next thing she did was to open a cupboard and
take out cups and saucers and arrange them on a leaf table which stood
toward one end of the room. The furniture was wooden and plain; the
woodwork of the windows was unpainted; the cups and plates were of the
commonest kind; and the floor had no covering but two strips of rag
carpeting; nevertheless the whole was tidy and very clean, showing
constant care. Mrs. Mathieson had sunk into a chair, as one who had no
spirit to do anything; and watched her little daughter setting the table
with eyes which seemed not to see her. They gazed inwardly at something
she was thinking of.

"Mother, what is there for supper?"

"There is nothing. I must make some porridge." And Mrs. Mathieson got up
from her chair.

"Sit you s