had reached her age, and what would have happened to them before that time came. It was true that Aunt Matilda had a square jaw also. It was not an encouraging thing to contemplate. In fact, as she looked at her, Meg felt her heart begin a slow, steady thumping. But as it thumped she was getting herself in hand with such determination that when she at last spoke her chin looked very square indeed, and her black-lashed eyes were as nearly stern as a child's eyes can look.
"Aunt Matilda," she said suddenly.
"Well," and a tablecloth was whisked off and shaken.
"I want to talk to you."
"Talk in a hurry then—I've no time to waste in talk."
"How old were you when you began to work and make money?"
Aunt Matilda smiled grimly.
"I worked out for my board when I was ten years old," she said. "Me and your father were left orphans and we had to work—or starve. When I was twelve I got a place to wash dishes and look after children and run errands, and I got fifty cents a week, because it was out in the country and girls wouldn't stay there."
