s crutch, and by degrees he had the table set. Meanwhile Fred had made
a fire in the kitchen stove, and the kettle was soon humming, while he
ground the coffee, cut some slices of bacon, and got the fresh eggs from
the cupboard.

In the midst of these operations Mrs. Stanley, a little woman with
slightly gray hair, but a sweet face and kindly, laughing blue eyes,
came downstairs.

"Well!" she exclaimed. "You're ahead of me this morning, aren't you?"

"I thought you would like to rest a bit," said her husband. "That is why
I did not call you."

"Oh, I'm not so tired. I slept well, and I wanted to be up early and get
Fred's breakfast, for he has quite a journey ahead of him."

"I wish he didn't have to take it," murmured Mr. Stanley to his wife
when Fred was out of the room. "If I only could get back to work
myself."

"Now, Norman, I thought you promised me you wouldn't worry."

"I'm not, but----"

"Yes, you are. Now please don't do it any more. We are getting on very
nicely, and I think Mrs. Robinson will pay me well for the sewing I did
for her last night. She is very much pleased with my work."

"I wish you didn't have to work."

"Oh, my! I don't! What a queer world it would be if no one had to work.
I just love to be busy," and she laughed joyously, though, to tell the
truth, she was still weary from her toil of the night before. Fred heard
his mother's voice and looked in from the kitchen.

"Breakfast will soon be ready, Mrs. Stanley," he said in imitation of a
servant girl they had had when they were in better circumstances. "The
water is jest comin' on to a bile, ma'am, an' the eggs am almost done,
ma'am."

"That's just what Sarah used to say," remarked Mrs. Stanley. "It sounds
quite natural. Now, Fred, you come in and sit down and I'll finish
getting the meal."

"No, indeed, mother, let me do it. Pretend you are a visitor, and I'll
bring the eggs and toast in, piping hot for you."

"No, Fred. I'll do it."

The boy was so much in earnest that his mother gave in, and with a laugh
seated herself by her husband's side, while Fred rattled away among the
dishes out in the kitchen as if he was a regular Chinese cook, which
many families in California keep in preference to a woman.

"Do you feel any better this morning, Norman?" asked Mrs. Stanley.

"Not much. Perhaps a little. It is very slow."

In spite of herself tears came into the eyes of Mrs. Stanley at her
husband's misfortune, but she turned