life right this time, and I believe God will bless and prosper
us. It won't be many days before Belle and I will find something
to do."

Mr. Jocelyn sighed more deeply than ever, and, indeed, appeared
so overcome for a few moments that he could not speak. At last
he faltered, "I have all of a Southern man's pride, and it's more
bitter than death to me that my wife and daughters must work for
their bread."

"Papa," exclaimed Mildred, "would it not be infinitely more bitter
to us all to eat the bread of charity? I shall pretend to no unnatural
heroism, nor say I like toil and poverty. On the contrary, I think
I shrink from such things more than most girls do. But I don't
propose to sit down and wring my hands. I can put them to a better
use. We must just put away all talk of pride and sentiment, and
remember only our poverty and self-respect. As Christian and sensible
people we are bound to accept of our life and make the best of it.
You and mother both know how much this change has cost me," she
concluded, with a few half-stifled sobs, "and if I am willing to
enter on a cheerful, patient effort to make the best of life as it
is, I think all the rest might, too. If we give way to despondency
we are lost. Let us be together again, and pull together as one."

"The idea of Nan and the children coming back to the city in August!"
said Mr. Jocelyn dejectedly. "You don't either of you realize what
you are talking about. We should have to go into a tenement-house."

"Martin, I do realize it," replied his wife earnestly. "The country
is doing me no good--indeed I'm failing in health. Nothing does