"That was different—you weren't doing it for money. O me! what would I have thought when I married your father if any one had told me that his child, his girl child, would ever have to earn her bread!"
"Well, mother, I won't go," said the girl, her bright looks fading away, "if you don't want me to; but I don't know what Mr. Sanderson will think, he tried so hard to get me into the mill, and it was such a favor from Mr. Mountjoy. You said you were very thankful."
"So I was, so I am; but—but you don't understand, and perhaps it's better you should not. I'll try not to grumble."
This was promising more than Mrs. Robertson was able to perform perhaps, for she was a chronic and inveterate grumbler. But she had some excuse in the present circumstances, for Katie was, as she said, her baby, and the "apple of her eye." Married when quite young to the handsome and intelligent young village doctor, she certainly had not expected ever to be placed in a position where her children, her girls at least, would need to earn their own bread. But in a few short years the doctor died of a contagious disease he had taken from one of his patients, and as he had not yet begun to accumulate anything, his young widow was left with her three children to struggle along as best she could. How she had done it God and herself only knew. The little house was her own, the sole patrimony left by her own father. The horse and buggy, the medical library and valuable professional instruments, medicines, etc., were sold at a fair valuation; and the money thus secured, deposited in the bank, had served as a last resource whenever the barrel of meal failed or the cruse of oil ran dry. For the rest, Mrs. Robertson was employed by her neighbors to help turn and put down carpets, cover furniture, etc. etc., light jobs requiring judgment and skill rather than strength, for which her friends, who never placed her in a menial capacity, gladly paid double the sum they would to any one else. She was also a capital nurse, and in this position rendered herself very valuable in many households, and for such services she was even more generously remunerated; so that somehow she managed to keep her head above water while her children were small, and feed, clothe, and send them to school as they grew older.
Her children were, of course, the one source of consolation left to the poor widow, and many a long evening's work was both shortened and lightened by golden dreams of their future prosperity and success.
When her eldest boy Eric was twelve, and when Alfred, the second child, was only ten, a friend made interest with Mr. Sanderson, superintendent of the bookbindery, auxiliary to the Squantown Paper Mills, to give the two boys steady employment, and since that time, four years ago, their earnings, small but certain, had greatly helped in the family expenses. Both were noble, manly fellows, with, as yet, no bad habits. They brought their mother all that they earned, and were quite content to pass their evenings with her and their little sister. Katie, who was now thirteen, had always attended the public school in the village, of course helping her mother with the housework and sewing. She was a delicate little creature, small for her years, but bright and intelligent, a general favorite with the village children as well as with her Sunday-school teacher, Miss Etta Mountjoy, who was not so very many years older than herself.
Katie was a very lady-like looking girl, and did not seem fitted to do very hard work, nor to mix among rough people, but she was an independent little thing who knew very well how poor her mother was and how hard both she and her brothers had to work. She knew that her breakfasts, dinners, and suppers cost something, and that it took money to buy the good shoes and neat, whole dresses in which her mother always kept her dressed, and she resolved in her own wise little head to find some way of contributing to the family stock. It was some time before she saw her way clear to do this, but at last she took counsel of a school-fellow whose sister worked in the folding-room of the Squantown Paper Mills and found that even a young girl might earn considerable in this way. So, without telling any one at home of her plans, she, one evening, presented herself before Mr. Sanderson and requested to be taken into the bindery.
"What can you do, little puss?" said this gentleman, quite surprised.
"You look about large enough to play with dolls, like my Nina."
"I'm almost fourteen," said Katie, drawing herself up to her full height and trying to look sedate. "I'm two years older than Nina; I'm as old as your Bertie, Mr. Sanderson, and I must make some money."
"Must you, indeed?" said he, beginning to be more interested. "Don't I know your face? Let me see. Why, it can't be—yes, it is Katie Robertson! How time flies! It seems to me only yesterday that your father died, and you were a baby; but Bertie was one, too, then, that's a fact. How time does fly, to be sure! So you want to get into the bindery where your brothers are, I suppose?" Katie nodded. "Well, now," continued he, "it's most unfortunate, but there isn't a vacancy anywhere; we have five or six applicants now waiting for a chance. Why don't you try the mill?"