never
occurred to either of them.

[Sidenote: World-wide Fellowship]

Through Laurence Austin's library, as transported back and forth by
Roger, one volume at a time, Barbara had come into the world-wide
fellowship of those who love books. She was closely housed and
constantly at work, but her mind soared free. When the poverty and
ugliness of her surroundings oppressed her beauty-loving soul; when her
fingers ached and the stitches blurred into mist before her eyes, some
little brown book, much worn, had often given her the key to the House
of Content.

"Shall you always have to sew?" asked Roger. "Is there no way out?"

[Sidenote: Glad of Work]

"Not unless some fairy prince comes prancing up on a white charger,"
laughed Barbara, "and takes us all away with him to his palace. Don't
pity me," she went on, her lips quivering a little, "for every day I'm
glad I can do it and keep father from knowing we are poor.

"Besides, I'm of use in the world, and I wouldn't want to live if I
couldn't work. Aunt Miriam works, too. She does all the housework, takes
care of me when I can't help myself, does the mending, many things for
father, and makes the quilts, preserves, candied orange peel, and the
other little things we sell. People are so kind to us. Last Summer the
women at the hotel bought everything we had and left orders enough to
keep me busy until long after Christmas."

"Don't call people kind because they buy what they want."

"Don't be so cynical. You wouldn't have them buy things they didn't
want, would you?"

"Sometimes they do."

"Where?"

"Well, at church fairs, for instance. They spend more than they can
afford for things they do not want, in order to please people whom they
do not like and help heathen who are much happier than they are."

"I'm glad I'm not running a church fair," laughed Barbara. "And who told
you that heathen are happier than we are? Are you a heathen?"

"I don't know. Most of us are, I suppose, in one way or another. But how
nice it would be if we could paint ourselves instead of wearing clothes,
and go under a tree when it rained, and pick cocoanuts or bananas when
we were hungry. It would save so much trouble and expense."

"Paint is sticky," observed Barbara, "and the rain would come around the
tree when the wind was blowing from all ways at once, as it does
sometimes, and I do not like either cocoanuts or bananas. I'd rather
sew. What went wrong to-day?" she asked, with