RHODA BOWERS stood at the east window of her own room, busily engaged in "binding off" the neck of a little baby's shirt—one of a set which had occupied all the spare minutes which she could contrive to spend in her own room for the past few weeks. They were not many, for she had to assist her mother in the housework, and yet she had contrived to knit four little shirts of the softest wool and prettiest design for the new little brother who had lately come to the household. Rhoda had taken great pains with them, and she meant, if her mother could spare her, to go down this very afternoon to Aunt Hannah's and learn of her how to crochet the scalloped edge round the tops. "How pretty they are…
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