e measure, but it insured success.
Perhaps it might in _your_ case. She put on, over her golden curls, a
dark wig with plenty of gray in it, seamed a wrinkle or two under her
long lashes with a camel's hair pencil, and put on a pair of glasses.
She secured a position as housekeeper in an eccentric old bachelor's
family, which consisted of only himself and his aged parents. Well, the
old folks soon passed away, the old bachelor soon following them, and
every dollar he had on earth he left to his housekeeper, to 'keep her
from the poor house to which she would soon have to go in her old age,'
as he phrased it. It was a large fortune, and she is enjoying it to-day
with a young husband and dear little children gathered about her, and
she often speaks of it when I see her, and tells me all her good luck
came from putting on that wig, donning the spectacles, and lining her
face to make it look old. She never would have gained that position
otherwise, for she was very fair and childish in appearance."

"I think I will do the same thing!" cried Dorothy, enthusiastically. "It
can do no harm, anyway. It is a terrible deceit to practice, but if I
secure the position, and the people learn to like me, in a very short
time I will reveal the truth to them, and I think they will find pardon
for me and keep me in their employ."

"I am sure they will," assented her companion, "and all I can say is, I
hope you may have as great good luck as the girl I told you about."

Dorothy smiled faintly.

"I--I would never care to be--be rich," she faltered. "There are some
people whom Heaven intended to always work for a living--I am one of
them."

"If you think of buying a wig, I have one to sell you," said the
landlady. "I used to be in the theatrical business, and had all those
things. I will show you how to make up for a middle-aged woman, so that
even your own folks wouldn't know you in broad daylight."

Dorothy was a little dubious upon hearing all this. She wondered if it
was not to sell the outfit that the landlady had suggested all this.
However, she passively placed herself in her hands, and the work of
transformation began.

"Now, look!" exclaimed the landlady, at length. "What do you think of
yourself now?" and she placed a hand glass before her.

Dorothy uttered a low cry. Could that face be her own at which she gazed
in the mirror's depths? Was she the old woman represented there? And
from the bottom of her heart she thanked G