"I don't want to do it anymore!" Ruthie cried, the tears streaming down her face.

Rob pulled her onto his lap and wiped the tears from her face with his thumb. "Don't cry, Ruthie,” he whispered. "Everything will be okay."

"No, it won't!" she sobbed. "I miss Mum. I want Mum back!"

Rob fought his own tears as he held his sister. His heart broke for her and Lizzy, whose memories of their mother would grow vaguer as the years rolled on. "I'll help you," he smiled at her. "How does that sound?"

"Can we get Lizzy to help, too?" she asked hopefully. "She really needs to start helping."

"Of course, she does. She's old enough." He put Ruthie down on her feet. "Why don't you go get her, and we'll get it done fast."

Ruthie skipped happily out of the room to find her sister.

He rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. He was only sixteen but felt much older himself. Living with Greta aged them all.

His brothers were the lucky ones. They found careers as preachers and wives to take care of them. There was no escape for Rob or the two little girls. He knew deep down that if he could, he would not think twice about breaking free, even though it would mean leaving the little ones behind.

The shame he felt for having these thoughts alleviated somewhat when the two girls came into the room. Ruthie was pulling Lizzy by the sleeve of her sweater.

Lizzy was crying as her sister dragged into the room. "I don't want to pick up lint!" she howled. "It makes my fingers hurt! I don't want to crawl all over the carpet. It's dirty and makes my knees hurt!"

Rob picked her up. She had grown too thin since their mother's death. He hated to see her that way.

"I'm going to help," Rob assured her. "It won't take long if we all pitch in and do it. You must learn sometime, Lizzy. Ruthie can't do it all by herself.”

"But why can't we use the vacuum?" she cried. "I saw one in the closet."

"Because Greta doesn't want to use too much electricity. She says it's very expensive."

"But what if I promise not to use 'lecricity?" she asked innocently.

Rob tried not to laugh. "It can't be helped, sweetheart. Vacuums use 'lectricity."

Lizzy thought on this for a moment, then slid off Rob's lap. "Ok," she said. "I'll pick up lint."

All three of the Starre children were down on their knees picking the lint up off the carpet when their father came in the door from work. He stopped for a moment to watch them. Then he turned and left the room.

Rob expected to hear a slap and sobbing coming from the next room. But all he heard was hushed voices. His father no longer slapped his wife. This wife didn’t tolerate such behavior. She wore the pants in the family. She kept the checkbook and the savings account.

Greta was the proverbial old maid schoolteacher. She had never been married. She had no children. Greta liked to brag that she still had the first dime she ever earned. Rob could believe it.

They just finished with the carpet when Greta called them for dinner.

Rob stared morosely down at the table. Hot dogs again and not just hot dogs. But the hot dogs that had been leftover from dinner the night before. Fried potatoes, he wasn't sure when they had those last. Moldy bread with butter. He felt his stomach churn at the sight, but he was hungry, and he was learning how to eat things he would never have attempted before.

As soon as Greta plopped a hot dog on Ruthie's plate, she started to cry. "It's green!"

"It's not green," Greta said.

"It is green. I don't want to eat that! I'll throw up!"

"Eat it," Dad grumbled. "Just shut up and eat it."

"Here, Ruthie." Rob took her plate and started to cut the green from one side of the hot dog.

"What do you think you're doing?" The old man asked.

"She won't eat that part. I'm just cutting it off."

"She'll eat it," he growled. "Put her plate back."

"Dad…”

"Do what I say."

Rob glared at his father but put his sister's plate back in front of her. "It won't hurt you, Ruthie," he said. "Watch." He stuck a piece of hot dog in his mouth and chewed it, smiling while he swallowed. "See?"

"I can't," she wailed. "I can't eat that!"

The old man stood up and started to remove his belt from around his waist. "What did I say, Ruthie?"

Rob stared at his father, his eyes daring him to use the belt on the little girl. His dad shook his head and sat back down.

Rob convinced Ruthie to pick up her fork and cut it into the hot dog. With tears in her eyes, she forced a bite into her mouth. She chewed slowly.

Suddenly her eyes grew wide in her face, and she opened her mouth.

The geyser spewed from her lips. She threw up all over her lap, her plate, and part of the table.

She started to cry, the drool dripping down her chin. "I told you!"

At this, Lizzy started to howl. "My fingers hurt! My knees hurt! I don't want to pick up lint anymore. I don't want to eat green hot dogs!"

"That does it!" the old man bellowed, his fist pounding the table as he stood.

Rob jumped quickly to his feet. "I got this, Dad," he said, grabbing Ruthie by one arm and Lizzy by the other. "Come on, girls."

Rob was angry. He hated his father at this moment. He hated his wife even more.

The old man married for money. He thought he would be living the life of leisure. But the woman he married was a miser, and he would never see a dime. This time the joke was on him. But his children were paying the price.

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