redeeming feature that
she did not talk. Listening in unsuspected places, she heard much that
was said about her mother and herself, and the pathetic part of this
experience was that she had never known enough of kindness to be
wounded. She was only made to feel more fully how precarious was her
foothold in her transient abiding place, and therefore was rendered
more furtive, sly, and distant in order to secure toleration by keeping
out of everyone's way. In her prowlings, however, she managed to learn
and understand all that was going on even better than her mother, who,
becoming aware of this fact, was acquiring the habit of putting her
through a whispered cross-questioning when they retired for the night.
It would be hard to imagine a child beginning life under more
unfavorable auspices and still harder to predict the outcome.

In the course of her close watchfulness she had observed how many of
the domestic labors had been performed, and she would have helped more
in the various households if she had been given a chance; but the
housewives had not regarded her as sufficiently honest to be trusted in
the pantries, and also found that, if there was a semblance of return
for such hospitality as they extended, Mrs. Mumpson would remain
indefinitely. Moreover, the homely, silent child made the women
nervous, just as her mother irritated the men, and they did not want
her around. Thus she had come to be but the specter of a child,
knowing little of the good in the world and as much of the evil as she
could understand.

She now displayed, however, more sense than her mother. The habit of
close scrutiny had made it clear that Holcroft would not long endure
genteel airs and inefficiency, and that something must be done to keep
this shelter. She did her best to get supper, with the aid given from
the rocking chair, and at last broke out sharply, "You must get up and
help me. He'll turn us out of doors if we don't have supper ready when
he comes in."

Spurred by fear of such a dire possibility, Mrs. Mumpson was bustling
around when Holcroft entered. "We'll soon be ready," she gushed, "we'll
soon place our evening repast upon the table."

"Very well," was the brief reply, as he passed up the stairs with the
small hair trunk on his shoulder.

Chapter IV.

Domestic Bliss

Holcroft had been given a foretaste of the phase of torment which he
was destined to endure in his domestic relations, and was planning to