“Sometimes I get my temper up, and tell him I will have something to wear as well as other folks, but he says he goes without as well as I, and there ain’t no use of our laying out everything for finery.

“Don’t you think its about time for me to strike for something that people, that call themselves decent, have to wear?”

“Why,” said Clemence, truthfully, seeing she was expected to make some reply, “don’t that seem a little like injustice?  It can’t be right to deny yourself everything, and indulge in no relaxation after such laborious employment.  You owe something to yourself as well as others.  Of course it is wise in you to look forward to the future, and it is perfectly natural and commendable to wish to lay up something for your children, that their life may be easier than your own; but, have you never thought that, after all, you may not be working for their best interests.  Supposing you should sink underneath the burden you have assumed, and death should find you all unprepared, would you not regret that you had spent your days thus?  It does not seem as if any mother was called upon for such sacrifices.  No woman, or at least, no American woman, can endure such severe, unremitting toil.”

Her hearer looked startled.

“I had never taken this view of the case,” she said, “but you are right.  My strength cannot always hold out, and if I should be taken away, what would become of my little children?”

Here the baby awoke with a scream, and the mother had enough to keep tongue and hands busy in the effort to pacify him, and finish her labors.  As it was, tea was delayed.

The group of tired, sun-burned men, who came up from the field, lingered around the kitchen door, furtively watching the pretty young schoolmistress, but not venturing to speak above a whisper, until supper was announced, when they came in awkwardly, and took their seats.

Clemence was duly presented to them and her host, a quiet, good-natured looking man, and during the conversation which followed, they made some progress towards a further acquaintance.  She was pleased, too, to observe that she had made quite a favorable impression, having formed a plan in her mind which she now thought might be easy of accomplishment.

Clemence Graystone was both young and enthusiastic, and she thought here was an opportunity of benefiting one of her own sex in a quiet, unassuming way.  She took care to observe closely, much that she would have otherwise passed unnoticed.

“Thank heaven!” said Farmer Owen, as he came in and seated himself wearily, on Saturday evening, “that to-morrow is a day of rest.  Miss,” (turning abruptly to Clemence,) “you ought to be absolutely happy with only a handful of young ones around you for six hours a day, and the rest of the time to do nothing.  I am beginning to think it pays to get learning.”

The girl regarded him with a mingled expression of surprise and amusement struggling in her face, as she replied: