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By Harold Carter. (Copyright by W. G. Chapman.) "William," said the-farmer's wife gently, coming up to where he sat and placing her arm round his neck, "what are you going to do about Bes sie and her little girl?" The old man looked up angrily. "Do?" he repeated in a dull, mechan- "Oo! You Speak Like a Big Bear, Grampa." ical way, "What do you suppose I am going to do? Nothing." "But we can't let her starve, dear." "She would have let me starve," answered William Ives, staring into the fire. "If there hadn't been min erals on that piece of land I owned and sold, Mary; where would we be now? In the poorhouse. I gave my best years to her and now no, let her earn her own living." "But the board' won't appoint a .married woman as a teacher whes she has a child, even if her husband is dead. "William," said the anxious mother, "won't you help her?" "No," said her husband finally. Everyone in Locust knew the story. Commonplace enough, it was yet es sentially one that finds its yearly equivalent in a thousand homes. Wil liam Ives and' his wife had scraped for years, impoverishing their scanty resources, to put their child through college. When she had secured an appointment as teacher she was to repay them by helping support them. Five years had passed since Bessie's graduation, and for a few months she had contributed to the family income. Then she had given up her position to marry a poor writer. John Turner was consumptive when she married him, and' soon the disease had him in its full grasp. He took his wife and baby west and died there. Bessie had come back to Lo cust to secure a position as teacher. But the new board had passed strin gent rules, born out of the over-supply of teachers, and' under these Bes sie was unequivocally debarred. She had not gone home; she was staying with an old-time friend who had taken pity on her and the little girl and given them temporary shelter. "It isn't as if I had wanted to send her to college," muttered the old man. "I ain't hard. I meant to treat the girl well, and when she pleaded and. pleaded I couldn't resist her. But what gratitude did she show me?" "Dear, it was to be expected," said his wife. "Every girl thinks of mar-, riage, college or no college." "Let her starve," answered the farmer shortly. But he slept little that night and sighed next morning as he went out to his fields. The mother had seen the daughter. She -had visited her without telling her husband. William Ives labored hard" under his grievance. He was difficult to turn. The mother's heart was bleeding, but she could do nothing.