as Rolf was taught the mysteries of pig-feeding,
hen-feeding, calf-feeding, cow-milking, and launched by list
only in a vast number of duties familiar to him from his
babyhood. What a list there was. An outsider might
have wondered if Aunt Prue was saving anything for herself,
but Rolf was used to toil. He worked without ceasing
and did his best, only to learn in time that the best could
win no praise, only avert punishment. The spells of good
nature arrived more seldom in his uncle's heart. His
aunt was a drunken shrew and soon Rolf looked on the
days of starving and physical misery with his mother as
the days of his happy youth gone by.

He was usually too tired at night and too sleepy in the
morning to say his prayers, and gradually he gave it up
as a daily habit. The more he saw of his kinsfolk, the
more wickedness came to view; and yet it was with a
shock that he one day realized that some fowls his uncle
brought home by night were there without the owner's
knowledge or consent. Micky made a jest of it, and
intimated that Rolf would have to "learn to do night work
very soon." This was only one of the many things that
showed how evil a place was now the orphan's home.

At first it was not clear to the valiant uncle whether the
silent boy was a superior to be feared, or an inferior to be
held in fear, but Mick's courage grew with non-resistance,
and blows became frequent; although not harder to bear
than the perpetual fault-finding and scolding of his aunt,
and all the good his mother had implanted was being