Yet both had fallen to their lot.

As for Alma--Alma carried in her dainty self all the love, hopes,
tenderness, ambitions, and prayers that otherwise would have been
bestowed upon six. And Alma was coming home.

"Mary," said Nathan one June evening, as he and his wife sat on the back
porch, "I saw Jim Hopkins ter-day. Katy's got home."

"Hm-m,"--the low rocker swayed gently to and fro,--"Katy's been ter
college, same as Alma, ye know."

"Yes; an'--an' that's what Jim was talkin' 'bout He was feelin' bad-
powerful bad."

"Bad!"--the rocker stopped abruptly. "Why, Nathan!"

"Yes; he--" There was a pause, then the words came with the rush of
desperation. "He said home wan't like home no more. That Katy was as
good as gold, an' they was proud of her; but she was turrible upsettin'.
Jim has ter rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an' a
b'iled collar; an' he says he's got so he don't dast ter open his head.
They're all so, too--Mis' Hopkins, an' Sue, an' Aunt Jane--don't none of
'em dast ter speak."

"Why, Nathan!--why not?" "'Cause of--Katy. Jim says there don't nothin'
they say suit Katy--'bout its wordin', I mean. She changes it an' tells
'em what they'd orter said."

"Why, the saucy little baggage!"--the rocker resumed its swaying, and