e
was a certain hardness about her mouth and a certain droop of fatigue
in her eyelids which, combined with an indefinite self-confidence of
manner, held Minna's attention.

"Do you know," continued the woman, "I believe you are in trouble. I
thought so when I saw you on the boat, and I think so now. Are you? Are
you in trouble? You're from the country, ain't you?"

Minna, glad to find a sympathiser, even in this chance acquaintance,
admitted that she was in distress; that she had become separated from
her mother, and that she was indeed from the country.

"I've been trying to find a situation," she hazarded in conclusion,
"but I don't seem to succeed. I've never been in a city before, except
Bonneville."

"Well, it IS a coincidence," said the other. "I know I wasn't drawn to
you for nothing. I am looking for just such a young girl as you. You
see, I live alone a good deal and I've been wanting to find a nice,
bright, sociable girl who will be a sort of COMPANION to me. Understand?
And there's something about you that I like. I took to you the moment I
saw you on the boat. Now shall we talk this over?"

Towards the end of the week, one afternoon, as Presley was returning
from his club, he came suddenly face to face with Minna upon a street
corner.

"Ah," he cried, coming toward her joyfully. "Upon my word, I had almost
given you up. I've been looking everywhere for you. I was afraid you
might not be getting along, and I wanted to see if there was anything
I could do. How are your mother and Hilda? Where are you stopping? Have
you got a good place?"

"I don't know where mamma is," answered Minna. "We got separated, and I
never have been able to find her again."

Meanwhile, Presley had been taking in with a quick eye the details of
Minna's silk dress, with its garniture of lace, its edging of velvet,
its silver belt-buckle. Her hair was arranged in a new way and on her
head was a wide hat with a flare to one side, set off with a gilt buckle
and a puff of bright blue plush. He glanced at her sharply.

"Well, but--but how are you getting on?" he demanded.

Minna laughed scornfully.

"I?" she cried. "Oh, I'VE gone to hell. It was either that or
starvation."

Presley regained his room at the club, white and trembling. Worse than
the worst he had feared had happened. He had not been soon enough to
help. He had failed again. A superstitious fear assailed him that he
was, in a manner, marked; that he was foredoom