s, were this winter taxed to the utmost strain their
finances would bear.

In this dilemma Etta made the startling proposition of becoming teacher
herself.

"You!" said Eunice, in astonishment. For to her, her sister always
seemed the little child whom her dead mother had confided to her care.
"You're not old enough. I thought of offering myself, but really my
hands are full, I can't do another thing."

"I should think not," said James. "You do everything for us all. You
need four hands for what you do already. But why should not Etta? You
don't need her help in the afternoons, and surely she ought to be
competent."

"I am afraid"--

"I know," broke in the girl. "You are afraid I will get tired of it, and
drop it as I have done so many things. You've a right to think so. But
you know I have a new motive and a new strength now. Eunice, what is the
use of my superior education, if I can't do something with it for the
Lord? It seems to me that this is one of the 'ways' in which I can
'acknowledge him.' Won't you let me try it?"

"If papa will consent," said her sister. And that settled it, as they
all knew; for Mr. Mountjoy always consented that Etta should do exactly
as she pleased. He only stipulated that her brother should always be on
hand to bring her home, as during the winter months the school would not
be over till after dark.

Etta proved--as all knew she would prove--a very efficient and
interesting teacher. It was quite amusing to her brother, when he
sometimes came for her half an hour before school was over, to see the
quiet dignity with which she kept the great rough boys in order. But the
work soon became too much for her alone. The "night school" grew into
such a popular institution that it had more pupils than one person could
properly attend to in the short space of three hours. So Mr. James
arranged his time at some personal sacrifice to himself, and managed to
take some of the classes. While, to the great astonishment of all,
Rhoda, the middle sister, came out of her shell sufficiently to
volunteer to give drawing lessons to such of the boys and girls as
should show any decided talent or inclination. There is something
contagious in beneficence. Those surrounded by its atmosphere are sure,
sooner or later, to take the infection. Of course this school was better
for the children than any plan of Mrs. Robertson's devising could have
been, and her whole family were among its most enthusiastic and