onable circles of the middle west.
Milly envied Hazel this new and exciting experience, and wished she
might be in Chicago to witness the triumphs of the two missionaries. But
she realized, nevertheless, more than ever before, her unfitness for the
work. She no longer had a very fervent faith in it....

So in her loneliness she came to accept Ernestine Geyer's companionship
and devotion, at first passively, then gratefully. Together they took
Virginia on holiday sprees to the theatre, and the three had many of
their meals together, usually in Milly's apartment, as she had found
Ernestine's home "impossible," a "barracks," and the food,--"just food."
Virginia had gotten used to the withered hand and no longer found
Ernestine so "queer." Like the little egotist she was, as most children,
she valued this new friend for all the good things that came from her,
and found she could "work" Ernestine much easier than her mother.

"We make a pretty cosey family," Ernestine said happily, summing it up
one day at dinner.

"Mama, papa, daughter," Virgie added, pointing demurely to Ernestine as
"Papa." After that the Laundryman was known as "Pa" by the trio.

Milly was occasionally embarrassed by Ernestine,--and she was ashamed of
her feeling,--as when Clive Reinhard came in on them one evening without
warning. Reinhard glanced at the squat figure of the Laundryman, and
tried to make her talk. Fortunately for Milly's feelings, Ernestine sat
bolt upright and tongue-tied in the novelist's presence and thus did not
betray her ungrammatical self. But she stayed on relentlessly until the
visitor went, and observed afterwards,--

"So that's the Johnnie that writes the books I see in the windows? And
the girls are crazy about 'em--humph!" All of which would have amused
the popular novelist.

It was inevitable, of course, that sooner or later Ernestine should meet
all of Milly's friends who still sought her out. And she always sat
through these occasions, quiet and sharp-eyed; when she trusted herself
to speak, her harsh, positive voice had the effect of dropping a piece
of china on the floor. Milly was often mortified at first, though by
this time she cared for Ernestine so genuinely that she would not let
her suspect or hurt her feelings. She convinced herself that Ernestine's
grammar was an accident of the slightest importance, and that as a
person she compared quite favorably with all the people she knew.

Ernestine's fondness for