of my grandfather's slaves than endure the life I have been called
upon to lead."

"Oh, Dorothy, don't talk like that, or you'll make me cry," pleaded
Kate. "Let us be cheerful whatever happens. Tell us about the money.
Begin 'Once upon a time,' and then everything will be all right. No
matter how harrowing such a story begins, it always ends with lashin's
and lashin's of money, or else with a prince in a gorgeous uniform and
gold lace, and you get the half of his kingdom. Do go on."

Dorothy looked up at her impatient friend, and a radiant cheerfulness
chased away the gathering shadows from her face.

"Well, once upon a time I lived very happily with my father in a
little rectory in a little town near the Hudson River. His family had
been ruined by the war, and when the plantation was sold, or allowed
to go derelict, whatever money came from it went to his elder and only
brother. My father was a dreamy scholar and not a business man as his
brother seems to have been. My mother had died when I was a child; I
do not remember her. My father was the kindest and most patient of
men, and all I know he taught me. We were very poor, and I undertook
the duties of housekeeper, which I performed as well as I was able,
constantly learning by my failures. But my father was so indifferent
to material comforts that there were never any reproaches. He taught
me all that I know in the way of what you might call accomplishments,
and they were of a strangely varied order-- a smattering of Latin and
Greek, a good deal of French, history, literature, and even dancing,
as well as music, for he was an excellent musician. Our meager income
ceased with my father's life, and I had to choose what I should do to
earn my board and keep, like Orphant Annie, in Whitcomb Riley's poem.