alone in the farmhouse, he was careful to know each morning and evening
that all was well with them.

"Austin is as steady and reliable as a little old man," said his uncle
after one of his visits. "He manages things over there as well as many an
older person could."

"How a father could put so much on a mere child is a mystery," said some of
the neighbor women.

"I would hate to be tied to a kitchen and a row of babies like he is," was
his cousin Frank's opinion.

But of all these comments Austin was ignorant, nor did he think he was
doing anything brave. He was doing the one thing that would keep the
children together, and was encouraged with the thought that his mother was
pleased with him, for it seemed to him that she knew.

Though Henry Hill was a selfish man, he often thought of his children while
away, but stifled every remorseful thought with the assurance that Austin
was taking good care of them. He assured himself that they were getting
along as well as if an older person were with them; and this was true, for
in the month that he was away, nothing of enough importance for comment
occurred. The days went by as evenly as if the father had been there. But
if Henry Hill thought that his mind would be more settled by his absence,
he was disappointed; for as soon as he was again in sight of the house, the
old loathing of the place attacked him. He longed to be away from it all
forever. And when a man has all his life given way to his own personal
impulses rather than stand by his duty, you need not expect him to brace up
at a time like this and do his part.