she assured him pleasantly.

Molly took the best of care of her two ladies and accepted their
gratuities with a grave courtesy. They confided to the captain, at New
York, that she seemed unusually refined for her position, and he
replied that for all he knew, she might be.

"We'll never see _her_ again," the first mate grumbled sourly, when she
stepped off the gangplank, and the captain shrugged his shoulders
non-committally.

They did, nevertheless, but her mother never did. After that one
dreadful interview in the Dickett library (it had used to be the
sitting-room in her college days) when Eleanor had cried, and Kathryn's
letter had been read aloud, and Mr. Dickett had vainly displayed his
bank-book, and her mother had literally trembled with rage, there was
nothing for it but oblivion--oblivion, and silence.

"A stewardess! My daughter a stewardess! I believe we could put you
in an asylum--you're not decent!"

Mrs. Dickett's cheeks were greyish and mottled.

"Come, come, mother! Come, come!" said Mr. Dickett. "There's some
mistake, I'm sure. If you'd only come and live with us, Molly--we're
all alone, now, you know, and Lord knows there's plenty for all. It
doesn't seem quite the thing, I must say, though. It--it hurts your
mother's pride, you see."

"I'm sorry," said Molly, sadly. It is incredible, but she had never
anticipated it! She was really very simple and direct, and life seemed
so clear and good to her, now.

"To compare yourself with that Englishman is ridiculous, and you know
it," sobbed Eleanor. "What if he _was_ a cow-boy? He didn't wear a
cap and apron--and it was for his health--and George is too angry to
come over, even!"

"It's for my health, too," Molly urged, trying to keep her temper. "I
never was the same after I went on that vacation to Maine--I told you
before. Life isn't worth living, unless you're well."

"But you could have the south chamber for your own sitting-room, as
George suggested, and do your writing at your own time," Mr. Dickett
began.

"I've told you I'm not a writer," she interrupted shortly.

"George would rather have paid out of his own pocket----"

"We'll leave George out of this, I think," said Molly, her foot tapping
dangerously.

"Then you may leave me out, too!" cried George's wife. "I have my
children to think of. If you are determined to go and be a
chambermaid, this ends it. Come, mother!"

Mrs. Dickett avoided her husband's grasp