Two months dragged slowly by. Then my sister was declared to be out of
danger. Next the house was sold over our heads, and we were turned out
upon the world, branded as the children of a thief, to get a living as
best we could.

Both of us would willingly have left Darbyville, but where should we
go? The only relation we had was an uncle,-- Captain Enos Moss,-- and
he was on an extended trip to South America, and when he would return
no one knew.

All the friends we had had before deserted us. The girls "turned up
their noses" at Kate,-- which made my blood boil,-- and the boys
fought shy of me.

I tried to find work, but without success. Even in places where help
was wanted excuses were made to me-- trivial excuses that meant but
one thing-- that they did not desire any one in their employ who had a
stain upon his name.

Kate was equally unsuccessful; and we might have starved but for a
lucky incident that happened just as we were ready to give up in
despair.

Walking along the road one day, I saw Farmer Tilford's bull tearing
across the field toward a gate which had been accidentally left open.
The Widow Canby, absorbed in thought and quite unconscious of the
danger that threatened her, was just passing this gate, when I darted
forward and closed it just a second before the bull reached it. I did
not consider my act an heroic one, but the Widow Canby declared it