"And is this the manner in which you keep your agreement?"
"Mrs. Thorpe, it is necessary for me to be away from the house at times, but I shall not fail in my duties here."
"You say that it is necessary for you to be away, yet you understood my terms and accepted them. Mary, this must not happen again."
"Then I must leave your employ, Mrs. Thorpe."
"Very well," replied the mistress, a red spot burning on either cheek; "I shall find someone else as soon as possible."
After supper Mrs. McGowan again left the parsonage and hurried along the street until she came to a small house a few blocks away.
"Why, mother mine, home so soon?" said a tall, dark-faced girl, as the mother entered the room. "What is it, mother? You look tired and worn. Is the work too hard for you?" The girl drew a stool to her mother's side and took a worn hand in hers. "I feel so badly to have you working so hard for me, mother, but when I finish school, oh, you shall be a lady then, mother! I shall take care of you and Jamie then."
The mother laid her tired head back against the chair and waited long before she replied. She felt faint and sick at heart. She had seen much in life that was hard to bear; widowhood and poverty had been hers for many years. Her only boy was a helpless cripple. Her one joy in life was Margaret, her blithesome girl. Her one great aim had been to keep her in school until she should obtain sufficient education to place her independently among the world's workers.
When she took her place at the parsonage, it was with the expectation that Mr. Thorpe, who knew her circumstances and seemed interested in her family, would be willing for her to spend what time she could spare from her duties in her own home. But now she saw that this could not be, and there was nothing left but for Margaret to go into the factory. It was a bitter blow, but deeper and keener than her own pain, she felt what it would mean to the girl. Margaret, with her willful, passionate nature, had not learned to be patient, nor to bow to the inevitable, as she, the mother, had learned to do.
"What is it, mother?" persisted the girl. "What troubles you?"