cause his folks wasn't wuth quite so much as
some others," this being, in her estimation, the only reason why the
notorious Timothy was never much beloved by his teachers. Mr Knight,
with whom Mary was a great favorite, offered her the school for the
coming winter, but she had decided upon attending school herself, and
after modestly declining his offer, told him of her intention.

"But where's the money coming from?" said he.

Mary laughingly asked him how many bags of shoes he supposed she had
stitched during the last two years.

"More'n two hundred, I'll bet," said he.

"Not quite as many as that," answered Mary; "but still I have managed
to earn my clothes, and thirty dollars besides; and this, together
with my school wages, will pay for one term, and part of another."

"Well, go ahead," returned Mr. Knight. "I'd help you if I could. Go
ahead, and who knows but you'll one day be the President's wife."

Like the majority of New England farmers, Mr Knight was far from
being wealthy. From sunrise until sundown he worked upon the old
homestead where his father had dwelt. Spring after spring, he ploughed
and planted the sandy soil. Autumn after autumn he gathered in the
slender harvest, and still said he would not exchange his home among
the hills for all the broad acres of his brother, who at the far West,
counted his dollars by the thousands. He would gladly have helped
Mary, but around his fireside were six children dependent upon him for
food, clothing, and education, and he could only wish his young friend
success in whatever she undertook.

When Widow Perkins heard that Mary was going away to school, she
forgot to put any yeast in the bread which she was making, and bidding
Sally Ann "watch it until it riz," she posted off to Mrs. Mason's to
inquire the particulars, reckoning up as she went along how much
fourteen weeks' wages would come to at nine shillings (a dollar and a
half New England currency) per week.

"'Tain't no great," said she, as simultaneously with her arrival at
Mrs. Mason's door, she arrived at the sum of twenty-one dollars.
"'Tain't no great, and I wouldn't wonder if Miss Mason fixed over some
of her old gowns for her."

But with all her quizzing, and "pumping," as Judith called it, she was
unable to ascertain any thing of importance, and mentally styling Mrs.
Mason, Mary, Judith and all, "great gumpheads," she returned home, and
relieved Sally Ann from her watch over unleavened bread. B