CHAPTER II
A MOTHER WORTH FIGHTING FOR
Perhaps had Dick been less noisy as he came up the walk he might have
caught his mother in tears; for he felt sure he detected the signs of
recent weeping upon her thin face as he entered and threw the package he
was carrying on the table.
"I'm glad you found Mrs. Oliver at home," said Mrs. Morrison, "and she
had the work ready. I can start on it to-night, and perhaps finish the
whole thing this week," and she opened the package, and examined the
goods that had been in the wrapper.
"You're working too hard as it is, mother," said Dick, putting an arm
around her and looking up into her face, "and I've determined that this
sort of thing just can't go on any longer."
"What do you mean, my son?" she asked. "You know that since I am a good
needle-woman and the times are so hard with us just at present, I am
fortunate to be able to get work from several of the ladies around
Riverview. Perhaps it will not have to be for long, Dick, dear."
"I know it won't if I have any say in the matter. You're sitting up
every night sewing long after I've gone to bed. Why, one night, you
remember I woke up and it was after twelve, yet you were still sewing.
You are getting thin and careworn, mother. Do you think I don't notice
it? And do you imagine I can stand it right along? There has got to be a
change, that's all.
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