helpless and forlorn, may not choose. 'Yes, I shall be ready.'

'Well, see that you are. Punctuality is a virtue--one not commonly
found, I am told, in your sex. You will remember, then, Mary, that I am
a very poor man, struggling to get the necessaries of life. You have no
false and extravagant ideas of life, I hope? Your father, surely, has
taught you that it is a desperate struggle, in which men trample each
other remorselessly under foot. Heaven knows he has had experience of
it, so far as I can hear and see.'

'He never told me anything, Uncle Abel. We were happy always, he and I
together, because we loved each other. But I know that life is always
hard, and that the good suffer most,' said Gladys simply.

A strange and unwonted thrill touched the selfish heart of the old man
at these words, as they fell gravely from the young lips, formed in
their perfect sweetness for the happy curves of joy and hope.

'Well, well, if these are your views, you are less likely to be
disappointed,' he said, in gruff haste. 'Well, to go on. I am a poor
man, and I have a poor little home; I hope, when you come to share it,
you will be a help, and not altogether a burden on it?'

'I shall try. I can learn to work. I must learn now,' Gladys answered,
with exemplary meekness.

'There is an old woman who comes to do my little turn of a morning.
There is no reason why now I should not dispense with her services. She
is dear at the money, anyhow. I have often grudged it.'