It was a hard matter, for wherever she went seeking employment, it was
always for her and her daughter, for the more she saw of Mrs. Jones, the
less she thought it well to leave the girl under her influence. Mrs.
Hamilton was not a keen woman, but she had a mother's intuitions, and
she saw a subtle change in her daughter. At first the girl grew wistful
and then impatient and rebellious. She complained that Joe was away from
them so much enjoying himself, while she had to be housed up like a
prisoner. She had receded from her dignified position, and twice of an
evening had gone out for a car-ride with Thomas; but as that gentleman
never included the mother in his invitation, she decided that her
daughter should go no more, and she begged Joe to take his sister out
sometimes instead. He demurred at first, for he now numbered among his
city acquirements a fine contempt for his woman relatives. Finally,
however, he consented, and took Kit once to the theatre and once for a
ride. Each time he left her in the care of Thomas as soon as they were
out of the house, while he went to find or to wait for his dear Hattie.
But his mother did not know all this, and Kit did not tell her. The
quick poison of the unreal life about her had already begun to affect
her character. She had grown secretive and sly. The innocent longing
which in a burst of enthusiasm she had expressed that first night at the
theatre was growing into a real ambition with her, and she dropped the
simple old songs she knew to practise the detestable coon ditties which
the stage demanded.

She showed no particular pleasure when her mother found the sort of
place they wanted, but went to work with her in sullen silence. Mrs.
Hamilton could not understand it all, and many a night she wept and
prayed over the change in this child of her heart. There were times when
she felt that there was nothing left to work or fight for. The letters