"You poor dear--and that's all you shall do!" soothed Sarah Ellen; and
Hester sighed, content. For so many, many weeks now she had sat upon
strange chairs and looked out upon an unfamiliar world!

* * * * *

It was midwinter when Jeremiah's last pair of shoes gave out. "An' there
ain't a cent ter get any new ones, Hester," he exclaimed, ruefully eying
the ominously thin place in the sole.

"I know, Jeremiah, but there's William," murmured Hester. "I'm sure he--"

"Oh, of course, he'd give it to me," cried Jeremiah quickly; "but--I--I
sort of hate to ask."

"Pooh! I wouldn't think of that," declared Hester stoutly, but even as
she spoke, she tucked her own feet farther under her chair. "We gave
them the farm, and they understood they was to take care of us, of
course."

"Hm-m, yes, I know, I know. I'll ask him," murmured Jeremiah--but he did
not ask him until the ominously thin place in the sole had become a
hole, large, round, and unmistakable.

"Well, William," he began jocosely, trying to steady his shaking voice,
"guess them won't stand for it much longer!" And he held up the shoe,
sole uppermost.

"Well, I should say not!" laughed William; then his face changed. "Oh,