heartache: but hearts can not always lie broken; in a little while they
began to live again.

It was now, when life was dropping back into its old ways, that the
greatness of their calamity became apparent. If Henry Hill had understood
his opportunity, he might have stepped into his children's affections and
been a true father to them. But he forgot them in his own self-pity. He was
lonely, unspeakably lonely, and the house was dreary and dull without
Mother. He who had always sought first of all his own pleasure and comfort
now reached out for solace somewhere. And he found it with his old
associates in his old haunts. When he returned to his home after these
seasons he found the gloom and emptiness there more hard to bear. He hated
with a deeper hatred the feeling of responsibility and care that was thrust
upon him by the sight of his motherless children. He felt himself sinking
under the strain, and he longed to ease himself in some way. If only a
friend had been found to take the burden and bear it, how gladly would he
have relinquished his place; but there was no one who would accept it. The
neighbors were willing to help him with the children, but none of them were
willing to do his part, and they waited for him to take the place that a
father should.

George and Wilbur were restless at home since their mother was no longer
there. It had been her influence that had kept them at home and in school
for some time, and now she was not there they felt free to go when they
wished, and they were out of the home in a short while. Night after night
when the shadows crept over the fields, only Austin was at home with the
children. It was he who cooked their meals and waited upon them. He loved
them with a yearning love, thinking always of their mother and how she had
labored for them. He was a boy thoughtful beyond his age, and, looking
ahead, he saw what probably lay in store for them. To him home meant all,