because I was so worried.  I felt that trouble was coming.  Early in the fall dear Nat was taken ill—­the first illness of his life.  It was a slow fever.  He was ill for three months.  I often wonder how I lived through those months.  When he recovered he seemed better than ever.  The doctor said he had passed a sort of crisis and would always be stronger for it.  The doctor was very kind.  Several nights he sat up with Nat and made me go to bed, and he would not let me pay him a cent, though he came every day for weeks.  When I urged him to let us pay the bill he grew half angry, and said, ’Do you think I am going to take money from your father’s daughter?’ and then I felt more willing to take it for papa’s sake.  But the medicines had cost a great deal, and I had not earned anything; and so, at the end of the second year, we had been obliged to take quite a sum out of our little capital.  I did not tell Nat, and I did not go to Mr. Maynard.  I went on from day to day, in a sort of stupor, wondering what would happen next.  I was seventeen years old, but I knew of nothing I could do except to sew; I did not know enough to teach.  All this time I never once thought of the mills.  I used to watch the men and women going in and out, and envy them, thinking how sure they were of their wages; and yet it never crossed my mind that I could do the same thing.  I am afraid it was unconscious pride which prevented my thinking of it.

“But the day came.  It was in the early spring.  I had been to the grave-yard to set out some fresh hepaticas on papa’s grave.  His grave and mamma’s were in an inclosure surrounded by a high, thick hedge of pines and cedars close to the public street As I knelt down, hidden behind the trees, I heard steps and voices.  They paused opposite me.  The persons were evidently looking over the fence.  Then I distinguished the voice of our kind doctor.

“‘Poor Kent!’ he said, ’how it would distress him to see his children now!  That Nat barely pulled through his fever; but he seems to have taken a new turn since then and is stronger than ever.  But I am afraid they are very poor.’

“To my astonishment, the voice that replied was Mr. Maynard’s.

“‘Of course they are,’ said he impatiently; ’but nobody will ever have a chance to help them till the last cent’s gone.  That Dora would work her fingers off in the mills rather than ask or receive help.’

“’But good heavens!  Maynard, you’d never stand by and see Tom Kent’s daughter in the mills?’ exclaimed the doctor.

“I could not hear the reply, for they were walking away.  But the words ’in the mills’ rang in my ears.  A new world seemed opening before me.  I had no particle of false pride; all I wanted was to earn money honestly.  I could not understand why I had never thought of this way.  I knew that many of the factory operatives, who were industrious and economical, supported large families of children on their wages.  ’It would be strange enough if I could not support Nat and myself,’ thought I, and I almost ran home, I was so glad.  I said nothing to Nat; I knew instinctively that it would grieve him.