of the hat factory.

"Mother's hundred dollars a month was just the difference between
poverty and comfort," Lyddy had decided, when she took the strings of
the household into her own hands.

"I haven't that hundred dollars a month; father makes but fifteen dollars
weekly; _you_ will have to go to work at something, 'Phemie, and so will
I."

And no longer could they pay twenty-five dollars a month house rent.
Lyddy had first placed her sister with a millinery firm at six dollars
weekly, and had then found this modest tenement about half-way between
her father's factory and 'Phemie's millinery shop, so that it would be
equally handy for both workers.

As for herself, Lyddy wished to obtain some employment that would occupy
only a part of her day, and in this she had been unsuccessful as yet. She
religiously bought a paper every morning, and went through the "help
wanted" columns, answering every one that looked promising. She had tried
many kinds of "work at home for ladies," and canvassing, and the like.
The latter did not pay for shoe-leather, and the "work at home" people
were mostly swindlers. Lyddy was no needle-woman, so she could not make
anything as a seamstress.

She had promised her mother to keep the family together and make a home
for her father. Mr. Bray was not well. For almost two years now the
doctor had been warning him to get out of the factory and into some
other business. The felt-dust was hurting him.

He had come in but the minute before and had at once gone to lie down,
exhausted by his climb up the four flights of stairs. 'Phemie had not yet
returned from work, for it was nearing Easter, despite the rawness of
the days, and the millinery shop was busy until late. They always waited
supper for 'Phemie.

Now, when Lyddy ran to the window at the raucous shriek of the
ladder-truck siren, she hoped she would see her sister turning the corner
into the avenue, where the electric arc-light threw a great circle of
radiance upon the wet walk.

But although there was the usual crowd at the corner, and all seemed
to be in a hurry to-night, Lyddy saw nothing of either her sister or
the ladder-truck. She went back to the kitchen, satisfied that the fire
apparatus had not swung into their street, so the tenement must be safe
for the time being.

She finished laying the table for supper. Once she looked up. There was
that man at the window again!

That is, he _would_ be a man some day, Lyddy told he