still had one change apiece, and there were some things of the dead
mother's which could be used, for poverty does not admit of morbid
sentimentality.

"Oh, we can live, surely, till father comes home," was Sara's summing-up
that night, as she lay wide-awake in her bed after all the rest had long
been sleeping. Then, turning over with the resolution to trust and fear
not, she clasped the naughty baby (whom she had never thought of
blaming) in her arms, and, with a last uplifting of her soul in prayer,
dropped gently into slumber.




CHAPTER IV.

UNCLE ADAM AND MORTON.


The days slipped quietly away, and Sara managed, in the midst of all her
duties, to read with the children at least one hour of each, and to get
a little time besides for her own deeper studies.

She found she could take the old school-books which she had thought once
so thoroughly learned, and dig new treasures from them; while the books
from Miss Prue's, nearly all of a scientific character, were read and
re-read with ever deepening interest.

But it was not the printed page alone that Sara studied. She had always
been fond of long walks, and in these her keen eyes, directed