"I guess he 'd think we was doin' the best we could."

"Well, den, Joe," said his mother, her voice trembling with emotion at
the daring step they were about to take, "you set down an' write a
lettah to yo' pa, an' tell him what we goin' to do, an'
to-morrer--to-morrer--we 'll sta't."

Something akin to joy came into the boy's heart as he sat down to write
the letter. They had taunted him, had they? They had scoffed at him. But
he was going where they might never go, and some day he would come back
holding his head high and pay them sneer for sneer and jibe for jibe.

The same night the commission was given to the furniture dealer who
would take charge of their things and sell them when and for what he
could.

From his window the next morning Maurice Oakley watched the wagon
emptying the house. Then he saw Fannie come out and walk about her
little garden, followed by her children. He saw her as she wiped her
eyes and led the way to the side gate.

"Well, they 're gone," he said to his wife. "I wonder where they 're
going to live?"

"Oh, some of their people will take them in," replied Mrs. Oakley
languidly.

Despite the fact that his mother carried with her the rest of the money
drawn from the bank, Joe had suddenly stepped into the place of the man