e and
charm, was radiant for her, and the superintendent managed grudging
congratulations. They were in the sitting room after the meal, and
something seemed to smite Jane, swiftly, with regard to Emma Ellis; her
bright eyes traveled over the whole of her,--the shabby hair, the hot and
steaming face, the moist fingers with their dull and shapeless
nails,--the needlessly cruel ugliness of blouse and skirt and shoes; the
utter unloveliness of her. As on the day of her return from Three
Meadows, when Emma Ellis had supposed Michael Daragh had met her at the
train, again her heart melted to mercy within her. Oh, the poor thing!
The _poor_ thing----

"Miss Ellis, I've taken your chair, haven't I?"

"It doesn't matter where I sit, Miss Vail. This one does well enough for
me," she answered, virtuously.

Jane sat down on a footstool near the window. "Do take it--not that
there's any cloying luxury, even there! Is it in the constitution of Hope
House to have only hideous and uncomfortable furniture?"

"You cannot know much about this sort of work, Miss Vail, or you'd
realize that our funds are always limited, and that we must conserve them
for necessities." It was a depressingly warm day, and the superintendent
felt it and showed it, and she reflected bitterly that Jane Vail was the
sort of person who was warm and glowing in January, when normal people
were pinched and blue, and cool and crisp in September, when those who
had to keep right on working, no matter what the weather was, had pools
of perspiration under their eyes and shirtwaists adhering gummily to
their backs. And she always wore things in summer which gave out cunning
suggestions of shady brooksides, and managed--in that theatrical way of
hers--the effect of bringing a breeze in with her.

"I wonder," said Jane, "if my silly little paper people get the breath of
life blown into them and my play goes over and I have regal royalties, if
I couldn't do something for Hope House?"

"You could, indeed, God save you kindly for the thought," said Michael
Daragh, happily. "If your play'll run to it, you could be buying us two
bathtubs and----"

"The linoleum in the kitchen"--Miss Ellis forgot her bitterness for a
moment--"is simply in shreds!"

"I will not!" said Jane, crisply. "Bathtubs and linoleum, indeed! Wring
them out of your Board! I shall give you a Sleepy Hollow couch with
bide-a-wee cushions, and deep, cuddly armchairs and a lamp or two
with shades as mel