This cost many sacrifices, much work, and sometimes delayed progress, but the horror of that awful dream remained with Elnora.

She worked her way cheerfully, doing all she could to interest her mother in things that happened in school, in the city, and by carrying books that were entertaining from the public library.
Three years had changed Elnora from the girl of sixteen to the very verge of womanhood.

She had grown tall, round, and her face had the loveliness of perfect complexion, beautiful eyes and hair and an added touch from within that might have been called comprehension.

It was a compound of self-reliance, hard knocks, heart hunger, unceasing work, and generosity.

There was no form of suffering with which the girl could not sympathize, no work she was afraid to attempt, no subject she had investigated she did not understand.