communicate any of her feeling to Joe, who had been and seen and felt,
and now sat darkly waiting his mother's return. Some presentiment seemed
to tell him that, armed as she was with money to pay for what she wanted
and asking for nothing without price, she would yet have no better tale
to tell than he.

None of these forebodings visited the mind of Kit, and as soon as her
mother appeared on the threshold she ran to her, crying, "Oh, where are
we going to live, ma?"

Fannie looked at her for a moment, and then answered with a burst of
tears, "Gawd knows, child, Gawd knows."

The girl stepped back astonished. "Why, why!" and then with a rush of
tenderness she threw her arms about her mother's neck. "Oh, you 're
tired to death," she said; "that 's what 's the matter with you. Never
mind about the house now. I 've got some tea made for you, and you just
take a cup."

Fannie sat down and tried to drink her tea, but she could not. It stuck
in her throat, and the tears rolled down her face and fell into the
shaking cup. Joe looked on silently. He had been out and he understood.

"I 'll go out to-morrow and do some looking around for a house while you
stay at home an' rest, ma."

Her mother looked up, the maternal instinct for the protection of her
daughter at once aroused. "Oh, no, not you, Kitty," she said.

Then for the first time Joe spoke: "You 'd just as well tell Kitty now,