as early this morning as you can, and we will make arrangements."




CHAPTER TENTH.

"When we see the flower seeds wafted,
From the nurturing mother tree,
Tell we can, wherever planted,
What the harvesting will be;
Never from the blasting thistle,
Was there gathered golden grain,
Thus the seal the child receiveth,
From its mother will remain."
--MRS. HALE.


For once Mrs. Gibson had the grace to feel a passing emotion of gratitude
to this kind benefactor, and shame that she herself had been so ready with
fault-finding instead of thanks.

As for Sally, she was completely overcome, and dropping into a chair, hid
her face and cried heartily.

"Come, don't be a fool," her mother said at last; "there's too much to be
done to waste time in crying, and besides you'll hurt your eyes."

Sally rose hastily, removed the traces of her tears, and began setting the
table for their morning meal.