for.

For our good little Betty, who is wearing all the old gowns we left, I
shall soon be able to buy a new one, and send it with my blessing to
the cheerful saint. She writes me the funniest notes, and tries to
keep the old folks warm and make the lonely house in the snowbanks
cosey and bright.

To father I shall send new neckties and some paper; then he will be
happy, and can keep on with the beloved diaries though the heavens fall.

Don't laugh at my plans; I'll carry them out, if I go to service to do
it. Seeing so much money flying about, I long to honestly get a little
and make my dear family more comfortable. I feel weak-minded when I
think of all they need and the little I can do.

Now about you: Keep the money you have earned by so many tears and
sacrifices, and clothe yourself; for it makes me mad to know that my
good little lass is going round in shabby things, and being looked down
upon by people who are not worthy to touch her patched shoes or the hem
of her ragged old gowns. Make yourself tidy, and if any is left over
send it to mother; for there are always many things needed at home,
though they won't tell us. I only wish I, too, by any amount of
weeping and homesickness could earn as much. But my mite won't come
amiss; and if tears can add to its value, I've shed my quart--first,
over the book not coming out; for that was a sad blow, and I waited so
long it was dreadful when my castle in the air came tumbling about my
ears. Pride made me laugh in public; but I wailed in private, and no
one knew it. The folks at home think I rather enjoyed it, for I wrote
a jolly letter. But my visit was spoiled; and now I'm digging away for