there, and I
don't think I'm in the right place."

As she spoke a plump lady, wearing rhinestone rings and a necklace of
the same precious tokens, whom the reader might have recognized as no
other than the tearful Madame Blanche, stepped from the parlor.

"Oh, my dear little girl. I'm so glad you came. We were expecting
you. I am the president of the Y.W.C.A., you know. Just go right
upstairs with Sallie, she'll show you to your room."

"Expecting me? How could you be? I didn't send word I was coming. I
just got the address from our minister, and I lost part of it."

"That's all right, dearie. Just follow Sallie; you see she is taking
your clothes up to your room. I'll be right up there, and see that you
are all comfortable."

The bewildered girl followed the only instinct which asserted
itself--that was to follow all her earthly belongings and get
possession of them again. She walked into the trap and sprang up the
stairs, two steps at a time, to overtake the negress.

Madame Blanche watched her lithe grace and strength as she sped upwards
with the approving eye of a connoisseur.

"Fine! She's a beauty--healthy as they make 'em, and her cheeks are
redder than mine, and mine cost money--by the box. Oh, here comes Pop."

She turned as the door was opened from the outside. It was a door
which required the key from the inside, on certain occasions, and it
was still arranged for the easy ingress of a visitor.

"Well, Blanche, what do you think?" inquired the benevolent old
gentleman who had been such an opportune guide to the girl from
up-State.

"Pop, she's a dandy. Percy can certainly pick 'em on the fly, can't
he?"

"Well, don't I deserve a little credit?" asked the old gentleman, his
vanity touched.

"Yes, you're our best little Seeing-Noo-Yorker. But say, Pop, Percy
just telephoned me in time. We had to paint out that old sign, "help
wanted," and put on 'Y.W.C.A.' Sallie is a great sign painter. We'll
have trouble with this girl. She's a husky. But won't Clemm roll his
eyes when he sees her?"

"Naw, he don't regard any of 'em more than a butcher does a new piece
of beef. He's a regular business man, that's all. No pride in his
art, nor nothing like that," sighed Pop. "But that girl made a hit
with me, old as I am. She's a peach."

"Well, she won't look so rosy when Shepard shows her that she's got to
mind. He's a rough one, he is. It gets on my nerves sometimes. They
yell