But he spoke.  “Very likely your mother does sometimes work too hard,” said he.  “But don’t you think it would be harder for her not to work?  Why, she must have been in the building ever since my father bought it; and she’s been a janitor and a fire inspector and a doctor and a ministering angel combined!  That is why we never raised the rent to you when we improved the building, and raised it on the others.  My father told me your mother was the best paying tenant he ever had.  And don’t you remember how, when I used to come with him, when I was a little boy, she used to take me in her room while he went the rounds?  She was always doing good to everybody, the same way.  She has a heart as big as the Mississippi, and I assure you, Miss Louder, you won’t make her happy, but miserable, if you try to dam up its channel.  She has often told me that she loved the building and all the people in it.  They all love her.  I hope, Miss Louder, you’ll think of those things before you decide.  She is so unselfish that she would go in a minute if she thought it would make you happier.”  The angel aforesaid, during this speech (which Harry delivered with great energy and feeling), must have had all his wits busy on Tilly’s impassive features; but he could read ardent approval, succeeded by indignation, on Alma’s countenance, at his first glance.  The indignation came when Tilly spoke.  She said:  “Thank you, Mr. Lossing, you’re very kind, I’m sure”—­ Harry softly kicked the wastebasket under the desk—­“but I guess it’s best for us to go.  I’ve been thinking about it for six months, and I know it will be a hard struggle for mother to go; but in a little while she will be glad she went.  It’s only for her sake I am doing it; it ain’t an easy or a pleasant thing for me to do, either ——­” As Tilly stopped her voice was unsteady, and the rare tears shone in her eyes.

“What’s best for her is the only question, of course,” said Alma, helping Harry off the field.

In a few days Tilly received a long letter from her mother.  Mr. Ferguson was doing wonders for the Russians; the family were all very kind to her and “nice folks” and easily pleased.  ("Of course they’re pleased with mother’s cooking; what would they be made of if they weren’t!” cried Tilly.) It was wonderful how much help Mrs. Higbee was about the house, and how happy it made her.  Mrs. Ferguson had seemed real glad to see her, and that made her happy.  And then, maybe it helped a little, her (Jane Louder’s) telling Mrs. Ferguson ("accidental like”) how Tilly treated her, never trying to boss her, and letting her travel alone.  Perhaps, if Mrs. Ferguson kept on improving, they might let her come home next week.  And the letter ended: 

“I will be so glad if they do, for I want to see you so bad, dear daughter, and I want to see the old home once more before we leave.  I guess the house you tell me about will be very nice and convenient.  I do thank you, dear daughter, for being so nice and considerate about the Russians.  Give my love to Mrs. Carleton and all of them; and if little Bobby Green hasn’t missed school since I left, give him a nickel, please; and please give that medical student on the fifth floor—­I forget his name—­the stockings I mended.  They are in the first drawer of the walnut bureau.  Good-by, my dear, good daughter.