home-made chairs, the anxious mother burst into tears. "I don't know
what to think of Archie, Mrs. Sullivan," she said. "He is determined,
now, to go to New York, and I know that if he goes I will never be
able to see him again. I am nigh distracted with worrying over it. I
have talked with him, but he seems determined, and I know I can never
hold out against his entreaties and arguments."

"Sure, now, Mrs. Dunn," said the Widow Sullivan, "don't yez be a
worryin' about 'im at all. That Archie is a smart boy, he is, and if
he goes to New York he'll come out all right, never fear, I only wish
my Dannie had as much get-up about him as your boy."

"Yes, yes, Archie is very ambitious for his age," said Mrs. Dunn, "but
I sometimes wish he were less so. I know I could keep him at home
longer if he wasn't so anxious to be at work. I don't believe I can
let him go, Mrs. Sullivan, not yet. I want him to stay in school
another year, and then I'll think about it."

"Well, ye're wise, Mrs. Dunn, ye're a wise woman," said the Widow
Sullivan. "Since yer husband died ye've been a good mother to the lad,
and have brought 'im up well. And now, how is yer chickens, Mrs. Dunn?
Have ye got that cochin hen a 'settin'' yit?"

And the two women began to discuss their various fowls, and the
conversation was so interesting that Mrs. Dunn remained late, and
found Archie in bed when she went home. "Ah, well, poor boy, I'll have
to tell him of my decision in the morning. He'll be terribly
disappointed, and I hate to do it I'm afraid it's selfishness that
makes me want to keep him with me. I almost wish he would take things
into his own hands, and start for the city himself. I would be rid