nsidered eccentric here, where noblemen of great
attainments and wealth are certainly not numerous; but is hardly to be
called common-looking."

Beth saw her mother's countenance drop.

"Then I _may_ speak to him," she decided for herself. "What's a
copyright, mamma?"

"Oh, don't bother, Beth!" Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed irritably.

When they went home, Bernadine clamoured for food, and her mother gave
her a piece of bread. They were to have dinner at four o'clock, but no
luncheon, for economy's sake. Beth was hungry too, but she would not
confess it. What she had heard of their poverty had made a deep
impression on her, and she was determined to eat as little as
possible. Aunt Victoria glanced at Bernadine and the bread as she went
up to her room, and Beth fancied she heard her sigh. Was the old lady
hungry too, she wondered, and her little heart sank.

This was Beth's first exercise in self-denial, but she had plenty of
practice, for the scene was repeated day after day.

The children being free, had to amuse themselves as best they could,
and went out to play in the little garden at the back of the house.
Mrs. Caldwell's own freedom was merely freedom for thought. Most of
the day she spent beside the dining-room table, making and mending,
her only distraction being an occasional glance through the window at
the boughs of the apple-trees which showed above the wall opposite, or
at the people passing. Even when teaching the children she made,
mended, and pursued her own thoughts, mapping out careers for her
boys, making brilliant matches for Mildred and Bernadine, and even
building a castle for Beth now and then. She made and mended as badly
as might be expected of a woman whose proud boast it was that when she
was married she could not hem a pocket-handkerchief; and she did it
all herself. She had no notion of utilising the motive-power at hand
in the children. As her own energy had been wasted in her childhood,
so she wasted theirs, letting it expend itself to no purpose instead
of teaching them to apply it. She was essentially a creature of habit.
All that she had been taught in her youth, she taught them; but any
accomplishment she had acquired in later life, she seemed to think
that they also should wait to acquire. She had always dressed for
dinner; so now, at half-past three every day, she put away her work,
went into the kitchen for some hot water, which she carried upstairs
herself, called the children, an