supper.

"How do you manage to get along?" inquired Lane.

"Lord only knows," she replied, sombrely. "It has been very hard. When
you left home I had only the interest on your father's life insurance.
I sold the farm--"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Lane, with a rush of boyhood memories.

"I had to," she went on. "I made that money help out for a long time.
Then I--I mortgaged this place.... Things cost so terribly. And Lorna
had to have so much more.... But she's just left school and gone to
work. That helps."

"Lorna left school!" ejaculated Lane, incredulously. "Why, mother, she
was only a child. Thirteen years old when I left! She'll miss her
education. I'll send her back."

"Well, son, I doubt if you can make Lorna do anything she doesn't want
to do," returned his mother. "She wanted to quit school--to earn
money. Whatever she was when you left home she's grown up now. You'll
not know her."

"Know Lorna! Why, mother dear, I carried Lorna's picture all through
the war."

"You won't know her," returned Mrs. Lane, positively. "My boy, these
years so short to you have been ages here at home. You will find your
sister--different from the little girl you left. You'll find all the