te has shown less natural endowment
than did poor Lucy, but dragging care had wiped out the life and sparkle
until, no one thought of her as attractive, even--only pathetic.

The man let go of the squabbling children to lift the fretting baby from
her weary arms, and followed her into the unkempt room, which made
almost the sole scene in her onerous life.

"You ain't got your dishes done yet, either; have you, child?" he asked
in sympathizing tones. "Well, well, I'll keep the youngsters while you
red things up. Here, girls, you come now and help sister, while I 'tend
baby, and we'll have things comfortable in a jiffy. Let's all try and be
good together."

The admonition proved effectual. Soon the girls were quietly at work,
and the little baby's startled eyes closed beneath the influence of the
gentle lullaby crooned by this rough-looking man, from whom some dainty
women might have shrunk in fear, had they met him on the public street.
When the little one was safely deposited in his wooden cradle, the other
baby, scarce two years older, being consigned to an uncomfortable nest
between restless Rufie and Tilly, in a bed scarcely wide enough for
them, the tired oldest sister dropped down on the door-step near kind
old Nate, who sat tilted back against the house wall, the legs of his
wooden chair boring deep holes in the sandy soil.

"You're pretty tired, ain't ye?" he asked with strong sympathy. "It do
sorter seem as if you had more'n your share sometimes, Lucy--it do,
certain sure!"

"I'd just give up if 'twa'n't for you and Marry," she returned wearily,
crouching in a forlorn heap, with elbows on knees and chin in palms.
"It's hard enough for women that's got their own young ones, and can
mind 'em and make 'em mind. I can't do nothing with ours, and when I go
to pa he just gets cross and lights out. And then he comes home--well,
you know how. He hit me with a stick, last night."

Nate's strong teeth came together with a click.

"He did? The old----" His sentence ended in a mutter.

"Oh, you can curse him"--she laughed drearily--"but what good does it
do? It don't take the ache out o' that welt on my arm and back any. The
skin's broke and it smarts."

She began to cry in a slow, patient way.

"It's queer I don't get used to it," she said presently, for Nate had
not tried to answer, but was puffing like a locomotive over wet rails at
his stub of a pipe. "I ought to by this time, but I don't. I s'pose it's
beca