Year: 1877

"Going to that dreadful factory
again" said Mrs. Somerville, looking
up as her daughter entered the sitting
room, dressed for walking. Il declare,
Nellie, you might as well be a boy as
a girl, for any pleasure | have in your
society. Every day you are at the
factory, leaving me alone"


Il Will come back soon if you want
me mother; but promised father to
come down and give him my opinion
Of some patterns for moulding that are
to be sent in to-day"


CAS- if the opinion of girl of your
age was Of any value. You need not
hurry back on my account. do not
want to force you to remain at home.
l can bear the sorrow of having mas
culine tom-boy of a girl, instead of a
gentle, refined companion. Go"


Nellie Somerville pressed a kiss upon
the fretful face pettishly turned away
to evade the caress, and then went out
very gravely. Her step, strong and
elastic, was unusually slow, as she
walked toward the factory where her
father waited for her, and for the hun
dredth time her face was clouded as
she debated in her own mind the vexed
question Of her duty. Not her incli-
nation-that pointed steadily one way
but her duty.


From the time when, grasping her
fathers strong finger, the little girl
toddled by his side, Nellie Somerville
had been that fathers pride, and the
cross of her mother. Child after child
had been taken from the home Of John
Somerville to fill a little grave in the
church yard-the victims Of an over
anxiety to guard them from every
breath of air; to fortify their constitu-
tions by incessant dosing; to force
health by combating imaginary weak
ness.


When Nellie was born, the father
asserted his authority, and the babe
was brought up almost in the open air,
and found perfect health and strength
in constant exercise, good food, and a
total deprivation of all cordials and
narcotics. If she cried she was not
dosed on supposition Of pain, but COM
forted by a ride on papa's shoulder, or
race in the garden.


When childhood was passed, school
days over, the girl came home from
seminary in a distant city, and shocked
her mother anew. A good scholar,
fine pianist and promising linguist, she
was averse to embroidery or worsted
work, fond of riding and walking, and
while essentially ly refined in thought and
action, had no affeetations or fine lady
isms, such as Mrs. Somerville consider
ed the crowning charms Of woman
hood. She entered into the details of
housekeeping with hearty zest, though
her mother declared she beat eggs like
a ploughboy, and stirred cake like a
milkmaid.


"You see, papa," Nellie said, conf
dentially, to her sympathizing parent
Il can't half do anything, and mamma
thinks | am awfully unfeminine. IF
eggs are to be beaten, | beat them, not
dab at them as if | was in decline.
do try to please mamma, and | sat all
day yesterday morning working upon
a horrible combination of zephyr and
canvas for a foot stool. But mamma
says stab the work and between you
and me, papa, did wish the foot stool
was in a sufficiently advanced state to
warrant me in kicking it l wish l
was boy then | could be at the fac
tory all the time"


John Somerville could scarcely look
at the handsome, healthy face raised
to his own, and wish it different in any
way yet the hidden grief of his life
was that there was no son to inherit
the name upon the factory sign for
three generations. "Somerville & Son"
were known for miles around the VII
lage where the great factory was loeat-
ed, and their names were good in many
of the leading cities of the country.
John had inherited the business from
his father and grandfather, but his own
sons, three dark-eyed boys, lay in the
churchyard, and Nellie alone remained
of six children.


More than once the thought had
crossed his mind, "if she was only
boy" as Nellie followed him over the
great building with the keenest inter
est in every department there.


The business was the manufacture Of