He remarked the sweetness and sense in the face of the house-mother as she bestowed their suppers upon the children.

She was still comparatively young, but there was no beauty of youth about her, only the appearance of strength that is produced by toil and endurance before these two have worn the strength away.

But, in spite of this look of strength, the face was not hard--no, nor sad; and there was a certain latent poetry, too, about the gesture and look with which she gave food to the little ones, as if the giving and receiving were a free thing, and not the mere necessity of life.

Her manner of giving them supper was to push the large pan of curded milk close to the edge of the table, where the little ones were clustered, and let them, four of them at once, lap out of the side of it with their little spoons.

At the same time she pushed the creasy yellow cover of cream to the farther side, with a watchful glance at Trenholme's saucer, evidently meaning that it was kept for him.