rates, plus a small
cost of transportation to the Pacific coast. Grandma profited by the
good-will of those whom she had befriended. They stocked her store-room
with salt pork, flour, rice, coffee, sugar, ship-bread, dried fruit,
and camp condiments at a nominal figure above what they themselves paid
for them.

This was fortunate, for the hotel was still closed, and the homeless
and wayfaring appealing to grandma, easily persuaded her to make room
for them at her table. The greater the number, the harder she worked,
and the more she expected of us. Although we rose at dawn, and rolled
our sleeves high as she rolled hers, and like her, turned up our dress
skirts and pinned them behind under our long belt aprons, we could not
keep pace with her work.

Nevertheless, we were pleasing reminders of little girls whom she had
known in her native village, and she was proud of us, and had two
little white dresses fashioned to be worn on very special occasions.
After they were finished, we also were proud, and made many trips into
the room to see how beautiful they looked hanging against the wall
under the curtain.

Marvellous accounts of the extent and richness of the gold-diggings
were now brought to town by traffickers in provisions for mining-camps.
This good news inspired our home-keepers with renewed courage. They
worked faster while planning the comfort they should enjoy after the
return of the absent.

The first to come were the unfortunate, who sought to shake off
rheumatism, lung trouble, or the stubborn low-grade fever brought on by
working in the water, sleeping on damp ground, eating poorly cooked
food, or wearing clothing insufficient to guard against the morning and
evening chill. Few had much to show for their toil and privation; yet,
not disheartened, even in delirium, they clamored to hasten back for
the precious treasure which seemed ever beckoning them onward.

When wind and weather drove them home, the robust came with bags of
gold rolled in their snug packs. They called each other "lucky dogs,"
yet looked like grimy beggars, with faces so bewhiskered, and clothing
so ragged, or so wonderfully patched, that little children cried when
they drew near, and wives threw up their hands, exclaiming, "For the
land's sake! can it be?" Yet each home-comer found glad welcome, and
messengers were quick to spread the news, and friends gathered to
rejoice with the returned.

Now each home-cooked dish was a feast for