The professor was almost fatherly kind to her when she took her place
again at the familiar desk; and, seeing how fragile and weary she
looked, gave her but short, light tasks through those long, hot summer
days.
Nothing was said about renewing the so soon interrupted lessons for
several days, then Sara herself remarked half timidly,--
"I have begun my studies again, sir, it is so lonely, and there is so
little to do at home," her voice faltering.
He gave her a pleased look.
"That is right; the best thing for you! Work, my child, is not a curse,
but a blessing to sorrowful man. Study,--write too. I happen to know
they are ready to accept another article from you in _Science Made
Popular;_ I am acquainted with its editor. Why don't you give him
some more of your rambles?"
Her sad eyes brightened. After all, there was something within her which
no grief, no bereavement, could entirely affect. "I will," she said; "I
will pick myself up and begin over again."
"That's right. And try some walks here, Miss Olmstead; you'll find much
of interest out on the old road leading west, for instance. You need
more fresh air and exercise, I'm thinking."
Sara took his advice, with much benefit to her health, as well as gain
to her information and purse; for she found that "knowledge is wealth"
in more ways than one.
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