food, I chased single grains of rice that fell out of the plate, about
the quilt, just as a jeweller would pearls, if a necklace of them broke.

* * * * *

With my recovery came news, after many days, of my father.

The Hunkies were pushing out the Irish from the mills--cheaper labour.
My grandmother could not afford to board the Hunkies, they lived so
cheaply. Renewed poverty was breaking our household up.

My grandmother was about to begin her living about from house to house
with her married sons and daughters.

My father was sending for me to come East. He had a good job there in
the Composite Works at Haberford. He was at last able to take care of
his son--his only child.

* * * * *

My grandmother and my aunt Millie took me to the railroad station. I
tried to be brave and not cry. I succeeded, till the train began to pull
out. Then I cried very much.

The face of my grandmother pulled awry with grief and flowing tears.
Aunt Millie wept, too.

No, I wouldn't leave them. I would stay with them, work till I was rich
and prosperous, never marry, give all my life to taking care of them, to
saving them from the bitter grinding poverty we had shared together.