The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-04-10
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there could only be few extra hours
put into the day somewhere, she
wouldn't be SO hurried. As it was,
her school work took all the time from
an hour before breakfast till supper.
Then her studies occupied the even
ing, generally. Still, if at odd minutes
she could get plans for her occasion
al articles mentally worked out, she
could generally manage to squeeze in
somehow the necessary time for the
jotting down, revising, and copying.
Only, the odd minutes had way of
being taken up with passing tri6es,
that was very embarrassing to time
hoarder like Eleanor.
Supper over, she at once prepared
to hasten upstairs to the pile of books
on the study-table in her room. But
in the hall she met Rosie, an arith-
metic in her hand and three big per-
picked wrinkles between her eye
brows.
Eleanor, won't you please explain
this thirty-seventh example to me9
I've worked it every way can think
of and it won't get the answer in the
book"
She ought to have been glad to
help her little sister, of course; and
she did cordially hate herself for
grudging the minutes that slipped
away over Rosie's problem of partial
payments.
Then she caught Mrs. Milbert's
wistful glance from over the great
pile in the darning basket. 1t was a
long time since she had sat down to
have good talk with mother. That
mother rose and came out into
the hall now, with an apologize air.
"Just minute, Eleanor. Did you
notice Rosie had mended up your
gray skirts I'd say something about
it if were you; it took her long
while to do it,"
Eleanor's face burned with morti-
fication at her own heedlessness. The
next moment her fathers voice came
from the library:
"CoIne, Eleanor, I'll play you a
game of chess. We haven't had the
board out for so long that I'll almost
forget the moves, I'm afraid"
Eleanor smiled regretfully.
81 wish 1 might" she said. "But
if let my evening go, don't know
where l should ever get it back"
That's just the way with her, now
a-days," muttered Tom, behind the
door. "She used to be lots of fun to
read stories an play on the organ an
make kites an help fix your new but
terfies on corks, but lately she's new
er got time for anything"
Tom didn't suppose anybody
heard, but Eleanor went upstairs in
a brown study, and some minutes
later found herself with Pilgrims
Progress instead of Wentworth's An
alytic Geometry in her lap. Was it
possible, she demanded of the hot
faced, bright-eyed reflection in the
glass opposite, that this hateful Wis
ion which had burst upon her, of
daughter holding herself aloof from
the loving intercourse of family rela-
ton, from all the gentle influences
which make home the dearest spot
on earth-that this apparition really
represented Eleanor hilbert?
Though we may choose from
among Fortunes gifts, no one of us
can have them all. Gradually it
came to Eleanor that if she would
not give up these things she had set
her heart upon-knowledge, fame,
independence-she must be content
with less of that which occupied
more largely her less ambitious COM
panions- the homely ties of domestic
affection.
But such revelations are received
slowly by the unwilling mind. Flea
nor's indomitable resolution rallied
at once. She had been unpardon-
ably thoughtless and negligent; she
would be so no more. She would
make the most of the time they still
had together-at the table. on the
Sabbath; she would try-yes, she
really would try to manage an even
ing off once in while. So she COM
forted her protesting conscience, and
returned with redoubled vigor to the
analytic geometry, to make up for
lost time.
One afternoon some days later she
came in from school and went direct
ly to the library for some book SIZE
wanted. At the door she stopped,
startled by the sight that met her eye.
By the table, his head buried in his
hands, sat the bowed figure of her
father.
"Why, papa, are you sick9 What
1. a. f.