rs. We didn't
have any other money."

"But you must have had something to live on. You can't make bricks
without straw, or grow little girls up without nourishing food in
their tummies." He caught an unexpected flicker of an eyelash, and
realized for the first time that the child was acutely aware of every
word he was saying, that even his use of English was registering a
poignant impression on her consciousness. The thought strangely
embarrassed him. "We say tummies in New York, Eleanor," he explained
hastily. "It's done here. The New England stomick, however, is almost
entirely obsolete. You'll really get on better in the circles to which
you are so soon to be accustomed if you refer to it in my own simple
fashion;--but to return to our muttons, Eleanor, which is French for
getting down to cases, again, you must have had something to live on
after your uncle died. You are alive now. That would almost seem to
prove my contention."

"We didn't have any money, but what I earned."

"But--what you earned. What do you mean, Eleanor?"

The child's face turned crimson, then white again. This time there was
no mistaking the wave of sensitive emotion that swept over it.

"I worked out," she said. "I made a dollar and a half a week running
errands, and taking care of a sick lady vacations, and nights after
school. Grandma had that shock, and Grandpa's back troubled him. He
tried to get work but he couldn't. He did all he could taking care of
Grandma, and tending the garden. They hated to have me work out, but
there was nobody else to."

"A family of three can't live on a dollar and a half a week."

"Yes, sir, they can, if they manage."

"Where were your neighbors all this time, Eleanor? You don't mean to
tell me that the good, kindly people of Cape Cod would have stood by
and let a little girl like you support a family alone and unaided.
It's preposterous."

"The neighbors didn't know. They thought Uncle Amos left us something.
Lots of Cape Cod children work out. They thought that I did it because
I wanted to."

"I see," said David gravely.

The wheel of their cab became entangled in that of a smart delivery
wagon. He watched it thoughtfully. Then he took off his glasses, and
polished them.

"Through a glass darkly," he explained a little thickly. He was really
a very _young_ young man, and once below the surface of what he was
pleased to believe a very worldly and cynical manner, he had a
profound depth of tend