Mrs. Raeburn, delicate and invalided as she was, had nevertheless
a great deal of influence, though perhaps neither Raeburn, nor
Erica, nor warm-hearted Tom Craigie understood how much she did for
them all. She was so unassuming, so little given to unnecessary
speech, so reticent, that her life made very little show, while it
had become so entirely a matter of course that every one should
bring his private troubles to her that it would have seemed
extraordinary not to meet with exactly the sympathy and counsel
needed. Today, however, even Mrs. Raeburn was almost too
despondent to cheer the others. It comforted Erica to talk to her,
but she could not help feeling very miserable as she saw the
anxiety and sadness in her mother's face.

"What more can we do, mother?" she questioned. "I can't think of
a single thing we can give up."

"I really don't know, dear," said her mother with a sigh. "We have
nothing but the absolute necessaries of life now, except indeed
your education at the High School, and that is a very trifling
expense, and one which cannot be interfered with."

Erica was easily depressed, like most high-spirited persons; but
she was not used to seeing either her father or her mother
despondent, and the mere strangeness kept her from going down to
the very deepest depths. She had the feeling that at least one of
them must try to keep up. Yet, do what she would, that evening was
one of the saddest and dreariest she had ever spent. All the
excitement of contest was over, and a sort of dead weight of gloom
seemed to oppress them. Raeburn was absolutely silent. From the
first Erica had never heard him complain, but his anger, and