lads he was a jack of all trades. He clipped Lydia's hair every month
himself.

"Your hair will be thick enough in another year, so's I won't have to
cut it any more, Lydia. It's coming along thick as felt. Wouldn't
think it was once thin, now."

Lydia eyed her father's care-lined face uneasily. Amos still hesitated.

"Where'd you get that dress, my dear?" he asked.

"Lizzie and I made it of that one of mother's," answered the child.
"It isn't made so awful good, but I like to wear it, because it was
hers."

"Yes, yes," said Amos absently.

The dress was a green serge, clumsily put together as a sailor suit,
and the color fought desperately with the transparent blue of the
little girl's eyes.

"Lydia," said her father abruptly. "You're a big girl now. You asked
for skates and a sled for Christmas. My child, I don't see how you
children are going to have anything extra for Christmas, except perhaps
a little candy and an orange. That note with Marshall comes due in
January. By standing Levine off on the rent, I can rake and scrape the
interest together. It's hopeless for me even to consider meeting the
note. What Marshall will do, I don't know. If I could ever get on my
feet--with the garden. But on a dollar and a half a day, I swan--"