CHAPTER XI.
For the first few months after her father's death, Mary's dreams seemed to fade into mist.
Between her and Josiah a bond of love had existed, stronger than either had suspected--and now that he was gone the world seemed unaccountably empty--and unaccountably cruel.

As her father had gone, so must Aunt Cordelia and Aunt Patty some day surely go ...

Yes, and even Mary herself must just as surely follow.
The immemorial doubt assailed her--that doubt which begins in helplessness and ends in despair.

"What's the use ?" she asked herself.
"We plan and work so hard--like children making things in the sand--and then Death comes along with a big wave and flattens everything out ...
like that ..." But gradually her sense of balance began to return.

One day she stood on the brink of the hill looking at the great factory below, and a calmer, surer feeling slowly swept over her.
"That's it," she thought.