n regarded as a
tendency to loiter and lose time. "Don't mind me, miss," Becky
whispered during the first morning, "if I don't say nothin' polite.
Some un'd be down on us if I did. I MEANS 'please' an' 'thank you' an'
'beg pardon,' but I dassn't to take time to say it."

But before daybreak she used to slip into Sara's attic and button her
dress and give her such help as she required before she went downstairs
to light the kitchen fire. And when night came Sara always heard the
humble knock at her door which meant that her handmaid was ready to
help her again if she was needed. During the first weeks of her grief
Sara felt as if she were too stupefied to talk, so it happened that
some time passed before they saw each other much or exchanged visits.
Becky's heart told her that it was best that people in trouble should
be left alone.

The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde, but odd things
happened before Ermengarde found her place.

When Sara's mind seemed to awaken again to the life about her, she
realized that she had forgotten that an Ermengarde lived in the world.
The two had always been friends, but Sara had felt as if she were years
the older. It could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as
she was affectionate. She clung to Sara in a simple, helpless way; she
brought her lessons to her that she might be helped; she listened to
her every word and besieged her with requests for stories. But she had
nothing interesting to say herself, and she loathed books of every
description. She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when
one was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sara forgot her.

It had been all the easier to forget her because she had been suddenly
called home for a few weeks. When she came back she did not see Sara
for a day or two, and when she met her for the first time she
encountered her coming down a corridor with her arms full of garments
which were to be taken downstairs to be mended. Sara herself had
already been taught to mend them. She looked pale and unlike herself,
and she was attired in the queer, outgrown frock whose shortness showed
so much thin black leg.

Ermengarde was too slow a girl to be equal to such a situation. She
could not think of anything to say. She knew what had happened, but,
somehow, she had never imagined Sara could look like this--so odd and
poor and almost like a servant. It made her quite miserable, and she
could do nothi