and I burned ceaselessly with desire to do something
to repay her for this almost hopeless disaster.

The worst of the whole situation lay in the fact that my earnings both
as teacher and as story writer were as yet hardly more than enough to
pay my own carefully estimated expenses, and I saw no way of immediately
increasing my income. On the face of it, my plain duty was to remain on
the farm, and yet I could not bring myself to sacrifice my Boston life.
In spite of my pitiful gains thus far, I held a vital hope of
soon,--very soon--being in condition to bring my mother and my sister
east. I argued, selfishly of course, "It must be that Dr. Cross is
right. My only chance of success lies in the east."

Mother did her best to comfort me. "Don't worry about us," she said. "Go
back to your work. I am gaining. I'll be all right in a little while."
Her brave heart was still unsubdued.

While I was still debating my problem, a letter came which greatly
influenced me, absurdly influenced all of us. It contained an invitation
from the Secretary of the Cedar Valley Agriculture Society to be "the
Speaker of the Day" at the County Fair on the twenty-fifth of September.
This honor not only flattered me, it greatly pleased my mother. It was
the kind of honor she could fully understand. In imagination she saw her
son standing up before a throng of old-time friends and neighbors
introduced by Judge Daly and applauded by all the bankers and merchants
of the town. "You must do it," she said, and her voice was decisive.

Father, though less open in his expression, was equally delighted. "You
can go round that way just as well as not," he said. "I'd like to visit
the old town myself."

This letter relieved the situation in the most unexpected way. We all
became cheerful. I began to say, "Of course you are going to get well,"
and I turned again to my plan of taking my sister back to the seminary.
"We'll hire a woman to stay with you," I said, "and Jessie can run up
during vacation, or you and father can go down and spend Christmas with
old friends."

Yes, I confess it, I was not only planning to leave my mother again--I
was intriguing to take her only child away from her. There is no excuse
for this, none whatever except the fact that I had her co-operation in
the plan. She wanted her daughter to be educated quite as strongly as I
could wish, and was willing to put up with a little more loneliness and
toil if only her children were o