The Pulaskian., 1917-04-27
CHAPTER U.
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Sidney could not remember when her Aunt Harriet had not sat at the table. It was one of her earliest dis illusionments to learn that Aunt Har- riet lived with them, not because she wished to, but because Sidney's father had borrowed her small patrimony and she was boarding it out"
 Eighteen years she had "boarded it out.'' Sidney had been born and grown to girlhood; the dreamer father had gone to his grave, with valuable patents lost for lack of money to re- new them-gone with his faith in him. self destroyed, but with his faith in the world undiminished-for he left his wife and daughter without a dollar of life insurance.
 Harriet Kennedy had voiced her own view of the matter, the day after the funeral, to one of her neighbors:
 "He left no insurance. Why should he bother? He left me-"
 To the little widow, her sister, she had been no less bitter, and more ex- plicit.
 Tt looks to me, Anna," she said, "as if by borrowing everything I had George had bought me, body and soul, for the rest of my natural life. I'll stay now until Sidney is able to take hold. Then I'm going to live my own life. It will be little late, but the Kennedy's live long time."
 The day of Harriet's leaving had seemed far away to Anna Page. Sid ney was still her baby. She had given up her dolls, but she still made clothes for them out of scraps from Harriets Street, Harriet "sewed"-and sewed well.
 She had taken Anna into business with her, but the burden of the part nership had always been on Harriet. To give her credit, she had not com plained. She was past forty by that time, and her youth had slipped by in that back room with its dingy wall paper covered with paper patterns.
 On the day after the arrival of the roomer, Harriet Kennedy came down to breakfast little late. Katie, the general-housework girl, was serving breakfast. Mrs. Page, who had taken advantage of Harriet's tardiness to read the obituary column in the morn Ing paper, dropped 1t.
 But Harriet did not sit down.
 Sidney"
 "Yes, Aunt Harriet"
 Sidney, when your father died, l promised to look after both you and your mother until you were able to take care of yourself. That was five years ago. Of course, even before that had helped to support you"
 'If you would only have your coffee, Harriet! !"
 Mrs. Page sat with her hand on the handle of the old silver-plated coffee pot. Harriet ignored her.
 You are young woman now. You have health and energy, and you have youth, which haven't. I'm past forty. In the next twenty years, at the out side, I've got not only to support my self but to save something to keep me after that, if live"
 Sidney returned her gaze steadily.
 T see. We'll, Aunt Harriet, you're quite right. You've been saint to us, but If you want to go away"
 "Harriet!" walled Mrs. Page, you're not thinking"
 Please, mother"
 Harriet's eyes softened as she looked at the girl.
 We can manage" said Sidney qui- etly. "Well miss you, but it's time we learned to depend on ourselves"
 After that, in torrent, came Harri- cts declaration of independence. And, mixed with its pathetic tumble of re- criminations, hostility to her sisters dead husband, and resentment for her lost years, came poor Harriet's hopes and ambitions, the tragic plea of woman who must substitute for the op- dmism and energy of youth the grim determination of middle age.
 T can do good york;" she finished. I'm full of ideas, if I could get a chance to work them out. But there's no chance here. There isn't woman on the Street who knows real clothes when she sees them"
 Mrs. Page could not get back of darriet's revolt to its cause. To her, Harriet was not an artist pleading for her art; she was sister and bread winner deserting her trust.
 I'm sure," she said stifiy, i've paid you back every cent we borrowed. IT you stayed here after George died, it was because you offered to-"
 Her chin worked. She fumbled for ene handkerchief at her belt. But Sid