In the mean time she had become the favorite seamstress of the town. Her
face, and voice, and smile would alone have won way for her; but in
addition to those, she was a most dexterous workwoman. If there had only
been twice as many days in a year, she would have been--glad. Her own
earnings in addition to her father's, and to their little income from the
money in the bank, made them comfortable; but with Draxy's expanded
intellectual life had come new desires: she longed to be taught.

One day she said to her father, "Father dear, what was the name of that
canal contractor who borrowed money of you and never paid it?"

Reuben looked astonished, but told her.

"Is he alive yet?"

"Oh, yes," said Reuben, "and he's rich now. There was a man here only last
week who said he'd built him a grand house this year."

Draxy shut her hands nervously. "Father, I shall go and get that money."

"You, child! Why it's two days' journey; and he'd never pay you a cent. I
tried times enough," replied Reuben.

"But I think perhaps he would be more likely to pay it to a woman; he
would be ashamed," said Draxy, "especially if he is rich now, and I tell
him how much we need it."

"No, no, child; I shouldn't hear to your going; no more would mother; and
it would be money wasted besides," said Reuben, with sternness unusual for
him.