in
question; her style of dress, gracefully ornate, would have led a
stranger to presume her a wedded lady of some distinction. Yet Mary
Barfoot had known many troubles, poverty among them. Her experiences
and struggles bore a close resemblance to those which Rhoda Nunn had
gone through, and the time of trial had lasted longer. Mental and moral
stamina would have assured her against such evils of celibacy as
appeared in the elder Maddens, but it was to a change of worldly
fortune that she owed this revival of youthful spirit and energy in
middle life.

'You and I must be friends,' she said to Monica, holding the girl's
soft little hand. 'We are both black but comely.'

The compliment to herself seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Monica blushed with pleasure, and could not help laughing.

It was all but decided that Monica should become a pupil at the school
in Great Portland Street. In a brief private conversation, Miss Barfoot
offered to lend her the money that might be needful.

'Nothing but a business transaction, Miss Madden. You can give me
security; you will repay me at your convenience. If, in the end, this
occupation doesn't please you, you will at all events have regained
health. It is clear to me that you mustn't go on in that dreadful place
you described to Miss Nunn.'

The visitors took their leave at about five o'clock.

'Poor things! Poor things!' sighed Miss Barfoot, when she was alone
with her friend. 'What can we possibly do for the older ones?'

'They are excellent creatures,' said Rhoda; 'kind, innocent women; but
useful for nothing except what they have done all their lives. The
eldest can't teach seriously, but she can keep young children out of
mischief and give them a nice way of speaking. Her health is breaking
down, you can see.'

'Poor woman! One of the saddest types.'

'Decidedly. Virginia isn't quite so depressng--but how childish!'

'They all strike me as childish. Monica is a dear little girl; it
seemed a great absurdity to talk to her about business. Of course she
must find a husband.'

'I suppose so.'

Rhoda's tone of slighting concession amused her companion.

'My dear, after all we don't desire the end of the race.'

'No, I suppose not,' Rhoda admitted with a laugh.

'A word of caution. Your zeal is eating you up. At this rate, you will
hinder our purpose. We have no mission to prevent girls from marrying
suitably--only to see that those who can't shall have