This summer I am going into a mill, but the wages for green labor are not very high there either," and so on.
When Miss Helen Thorpe, aged seventeen, received this document she stamped her foot almost angrily.

"You'd think he was a day-laborer!" she cried.

"Why doesn't he try for a clerkship or something in the city where he'd have a chance to use his brains!" The thought of her big, strong, tanned brother chained to a desk rose to her, and she smiled a little sadly.
"I know," she went on to herself, "he'd rather be a common laborer in the woods than railroad manager in the office.

He loves his out-of-doors." "Helen!" called a voice from below, "if you're through up there, I wish you'd come down and help me carry this rug out." The girl's eyes cleared with a snap.
"So do I!" she cried defiantly, "so do I love out-of-doors! I like the woods and the fields and the trees just as much as he does, only differently; but I don't get out!" And thus she came to feeling rebelliously that her brother had been a little selfish in his choice of an occupation, that he sacrificed her inclinations to his own.

She did not guess,--how could she ?--his dreams for her.