for use; and all this increase of property raised his standard of living,
and excited his ambition.

The night before Christmas, Veronica was late in coming home. It was dark
and stormy. She had been delayed at the school, making preparations for
leaving everything in order for the holiday.

When she came into the sitting-room she found her mother at work by
lamp-light, mending a ragged old mail-bag. Advancing years had told upon
Gertrude; and although industrious as ever, she could not work as easily
as she once did.

"Oh mother, I cannot let you do that heavy piece of work," said Veronica,
as soon as she saw what her mother was about. "Didn't I tell you that I
would come home in time to dress the house for Christmas, and now you have
not only done all that, but you are at work on that old mail-bag. I can't
bear to have you do so. Why won't you let me do something for you, and
take a little rest yourself. You look so tired."

"You need the evening to rest in too, dear child, after working steadily
all day," said Gertrude affectionately. "And I am very glad when there is
a piece of work like this that I can do. I want him to find everything as
it used to be, when he comes home. I think that with care and industry I
can manage so that I shall not be obliged to give up this house while he
is away. I am sure it will be a great comfort to him to find that he still
has his home. And besides I feel that it will help him to begin life anew,
and bring him back to his old right-minded way of thinking. Oh, if he
would only come home!"

"Mother, mother, that is no reason why you should work beyond your