I knew that her plain sewing, assisted by my mother's elegant needle-work, furnished us the means of support; but I had always known it so, and it seemed all natural and right.

Peggy was strong and robust.

The burden of toil rested lightly on her sturdy shoulders.

It seemed to me that she was born with us and for us,--that she belonged to us as rightfully as the air we breathed, and the light that illumined us.

It never entered my mind that we could live without Peggy, or that Peggy could live without us.
My mother's health was very delicate.