sense of rebellion against an existence that exacted such a situation.

"I hope the stove's all right, mother," she said. "Mr. Tiernan seemed to
think it was a good one."

"It's a different thing," declared Hannah. "I was just wondering this
evening, before you came in, how I ever made out to cook anything on the
other. Come and see how nice it looks."

Janet followed her into the kitchen. As they stood close together gazing
at the new purchase Janet was uncomfortably aware of drops that ran a
little way in the furrows of Hannah's cheeks, stopped, and ran on again.
She seized her apron and clapped it to her face.

"You hadn't ought to be made to do it!" she sobbed.

And Janet was suddenly impelled to commit an act rare in their
intercourse. She kissed her, swiftly, on the cheek, and fled from the
room....

Supper was an ordeal. Janet did not relish her enthronement as a heroine,
she deplored and even resented her mother's attitude toward her father,
which puzzled her; for the studied cruelty of it seemed to belie her
affection for him. Every act and gesture and speech of Hannah's took on
the complexion of an invidious reference to her reliability as compared
with Edward's worthlessness as a provider; and she contrived in some sort
to make the meal a sacrament in commemoration of her elder daughter's
act.

"I guess you notice the difference in that pork," she would exclaim, and