life that was building, it might stand there the very threshold over
which she should pass into perfect shelter of content.

"Mother has been entirely bewildered by all this trouble," said
Sylvie, quietly, to Mr. Sherrett. "I don't think she really
understands. She has lived so long with things as they are, that she
cannot imagine them different. I think it is easier with me,
because, you know, I haven't been used to _anything_ such a _very_
long while."

Sylvie even smiled a tremulous little smile as she said this; and
Mr. Sherrett looked at her with one upon his own face that had as
much pitiful tenderness in it as could have shown through tears.

"You see we shall have to do something right off,--go somewhere; and
mother can't change the least thing. She can't spare Sabina, who has
heard of a good place, and must go soon at any rate, because nobody
else would know where things belonged or are put away, or fetch her
anything she wanted. And the very things, I suppose, don't belong to
us. How shall we break through and begin again?" Sylvie looked up
earnestly at Mr. Sherrett, asking this question. This was what she
really wanted to know.

"You will remove, I suppose?" said Mr. Sherrett "If you could hear
of a house,--if you could propose something definite,--if you and
Sabina could begin to pack up,--how would that be?"

He met her inquiry with primary, practical suggestions, just what
she needed, wasting no words. He saw it was the best service he
could do this little girl who had suddenly become the real head of
the household.

"I have thought, and thought," said Sylvie; "and after all, mother
must decide. Perhaps she wouldn't want to keep house. I don't know
whether we could. She spoke once about boarding. But boarding costs
a great deal, doesn't it?"

"To live as you would need to,--yes."

"I should hate to have to manage small, and change round, in
boarding. I know some people who live so. It would give me a very
mean feeling. It would be like trying to get a bite of everybody's
bread and butter. I'd rather have my own little loaf."

"You are a brave, true little woman," said Mr. Sherrett, warmly.
"All you want is to be set in the right direction, and see your way.
You'll be sure to go on."

"I _think_ I should. If mother can only be contented. I think I
should rather like it. I could _understand_ living better. There
would only be a little at a time. A great deal, and a great many
things, make it