breath.

"It seems mother came to her a while ago, and--and she went to others,
too. She asked if there wasn't some knitting or patchwork she could do
for them. She said she--she wanted to earn some money." Sarah Ellen's
voice broke over the last word, and William muttered something under his
breath. "She said they'd lost all they had in the bank," went on Sarah
Ellen hurriedly, "and that they didn't like to ask you for money."

"Why, I always let them have--" began William defensively; then he
stopped short, a slow red staining his face.

"Yes, I know you have," interposed Sarah Ellen eagerly; "and I said so
to Maria. But mother had already told her that, it seems. She said that
mother said you were always glad to give it to them when they asked for
it, but that it hurt father's pride to beg, so he'd gone to work to earn
some of his own."

"Father!" exclaimed William. "But I thought you said 'twas mother.
Surely father isn't knitting socks and mittens, is he?"

"No, no," cried Sarah Ellen. "I'm coming to that as fast as I can. You
see, 'twas father who went to work first. He's been doing all sorts of
little odd jobs, even to staying with the Snow children while their
folks went to town, and spading up Nancy Howe's flower beds for her. But
it's been wearing on him, and he was getting all tired out. Only think
of it, William--working out--father and mother! I just can't ever
hold up my head again! What shall we do?"

"Do? Why, we'll stop it, of course," declared William savagely. "I guess