open a roll. She
continued to send covert glances at the young girl who industriously
buttered small pieces of bread and put them into her unwilling mouth,
and drank from a glass of milk.

When Miss Upton thought it was safe to address her again, she spoke:
"Who have you got to take care of you, then?" she asked.

"Nobody," was the reply, but the girl spoke steadily now. Apparently she
had summoned the calm of desperation.

"Why, that don't seem possible," returned Miss Mehitable, and her voice
and manner were full of such sympathetic interest that the forlorn one
responded again; this time with a long look of gratitude that seemed to
sink right down through Miss Upton's solicitous eyes into her good
heart.

"You're a kind woman. If there are any girls in your family they know
where to go for comfort. I'm sure of that."

"There ain't any girls in my family. I'm almost without folks myself;
but then, I'm old and tough. I work for my livin'. I keep a little
store."

"That is what I wanted to do--work for my living," said the girl. "I've
tried my best." Again for a space she caught her lip under her teeth.
"First I tried the stores; then I even tried service. I went into a
family as a waitress. I"--she gave a determined swallow--"I suppose
there must be some good men in the world, but I haven't found any."

Miss Upton's small eyes gave their widest stare and into them came
understanding and indignation.

"I'm discouraged"--said the girl, and a hard tone came into her low
voice--"discouraged enough to end it all."

"Now--now--don't you talk that way," stammered Miss Mehitable. "I s'pose
it's because you're so pretty."

"Yes," returned the girl disdainfully. "I despise my looks."

"Now, see here, child," exclaimed Miss Upton, prolonging her troubled
stare, "perhaps Providence helped me nearly trip up that slab-sided
gawk. Perhaps I set down here for a purpose. Desperate folks cling to
straws. I'm the huskiest straw you ever saw, and I might be able to give
you some advice. At least I've got an old head and you've got a young
one, bless your poor little heart. Why don't we go somewheres where we
can talk when we're through eating?"

"You're very good to take an interest," replied the girl.

"I'm as poor as Job's turkey," went on Miss Upton, "and I haven't got
much to give you but advice."

The girl leaned across the table. "Yes, you have," she said, her soft
dark eyes expressive. "Kindness. Generosity. A wa