energetic members. Gretchen learned to write English, and Tessa to read
and care for better things than sentimental fiction. And Eric, while far
outstripping her in his studies, seemed to find great pleasure in
assisting in hers, helping her over difficulties, and carrying her books
to and from the school. But by far the brightest of the scholars were
Katie and Alfred Robertson. They both learned so easily, and exhibited
so much enthusiasm in the pursuit of knowledge, that once Eunice
Mountjoy said to Mrs. Robertson:--

"It seems almost a pity that your children should be obliged to perform
mill-work. My brother says that Alfred shows quite an uncommon taste
for natural science, especially chemistry. And I think our little Katie
would, after a few years' study, make a capital teacher, and you know
she would make a great deal more money in that way than she ever can in
the mill, with much less expenditure of time and strength."

"Yes," said Mrs. Robertson, with a sigh. "I never thought that my
husband's children would have to work for a living."

"Working for a living is not degrading, Mrs. Robertson. The doctor
himself did that."

"Of course. But he did it as a gentleman--not in a mill."

"My father and brother, too, earn their livings in a mill, and neither
they nor we feel at all degraded by it," said Eunice, quietly. "Only, if
your boy has talents which will fit him for a profession beneficial to
the human race, like that of his father's, it seems almost a pity that
they should not be cultivated. Depend upon it, self-support is always
honorable, for man or woman, and we should consider our work high or
low, not because it is considered 'genteel' or not, but because it does
or does not do the most good. I wish that something could turn up to
help both Alfred and Katie to better educations, for I believe they
might thus do a great deal more good."

And Mrs. Robertson wished so too. But she was wise enough not to say
anything to her children about it.

Better things were in store for the children, however, than their
mother's heart had dared to hope for; and for once she felt thoroughly
ashamed of her murmurings and want of faith. One evening toward spring,
when the merry group came from school more noisily than usual, and, as
usual, greatly in want of their delayed supper, they were all slightly
astonished to see a light in the window of the seldom-used sitting-room.
They noticed, as they went in, a strange hat