Mrs. Farrell was now obliged to dismiss her maid-of-all-work, and attend to the household duties herself.  This was a hardship, for she was not a strong woman; but she did not complain.  Bernard, fortunately, had taken two years of the commercial course at St. Stanislaus’ College, and was therefore in a measure fitted for practical affairs.  He obtained a place as clerk in the law office of Crosswell & Wright.  As he tried to keep his mind on his duties, and was willing and industrious, his employers were well pleased with him, and he had been several times advanced.  But the means of the family grew more and more straitened.  The following year the rent of the flat was found to be higher than they could afford.  They sought other quarters, and settled at last, just as winter was approaching, in the little house where we have discovered them, in a humble neighborhood and unpaved streets, with no pretensions whatever,—­in fact, it did not appear to have even the ambition to be regarded as a street at all.

The young people took possession of the new dwelling in high glee.  They did not see the drawbacks to comfort which their mother could have pointed out; did not notice how much the house needed painting and papering, how decidedly out of repair it was.  Only too glad of their satisfaction, she refrained from comment, tried to make the best of everything, and succeeded in having a cosey home for them, despite all difficulties.  For there was not a room of the small house into which at least a ray of sunlight did not find its way sometime during the day.  It shone upon threadbare carpets and painted floors; upon sofas the upholstering of which had an unmistakable air of having been experimented with; and chairs which Mrs. Farrell had recaned, having learned the art from a blind boy who lived opposite.  Yet the sunlight revealed as well an air of thrift and cheeriness; for the widow, despite her days of discouragement, aimed to train her children to look upon the bright side of life, and to trust in Providence.

“Bernard,” said she one evening, “I have been thinking that if I could hire a sewing-machine I might get piecework from the shops, and earn more than by looking to chance patronage.  I have a mind to inquire about one.”

The boy was silent.  She began to doubt if he had heard, and was about to repeat the remark when he answered: 

“No, mother, don’t.  There are too many women doing that kind of sewing at starvation prices.  But I’ll tell you what would be a fine thing if you really had the time for it, though I do not see how you could,—­it seems to me we keep you busy.”

“What is your idea?” inquired Mrs. Farrell eagerly, paying no heed to the latter part of his speech.