"Where people are so poor as we are, every little helps."

She sat at her sewing when the stage stopped before the door.

"I'm glad he rode home," thought the widow; "the walk both ways would
have been too fatiguing."

"But why does not Herbert come in at once?"

He had gone behind the coach, and the driver was helping him take down
a trunk.

"Where did he get it?" thought his mother, in surprise.

"I guess you can get it into the house yourself," she heard the driver
say.

"Yes, I'll manage it; you needn't wait," said Herbert.

The driver cracked his whip, and the lumbering old coach drove on.

"Oh, there you are, mother," said Herbert, looking toward the house
for the first time. "I'll be with you in a minute."

And he began to draw the trunk in through the front gate.

"Where did you get that trunk, Herbert?" asked Mrs. Carter.

"Oh, it's my legacy," said Herbert, laughing. "Here it is," and he
lifted it up, and laid it down in the front entry.