Theodore--dear knows where he
was--into some mischief somewhere! But I'd saved money, and she'd given
me the Brooklyn houses, and I took a boarder or two, and that was the
last I ever worked for any one but my own!"

"Well, that's a nice girl, that Leslie," Norma said, "if her father
_was_ wild!"

"Her mother was a good girl," Kate said, "I knew her. But the old lady
was proud, Baby--God save any one of us from pride like that! You'd
never know it, to see her now, but she was very proud. Theodore's wife
was a good girl, but she was Miss Annie's maid, and what Mrs. Melrose
never could forgive was that when she ordered the girl out of the house,
she showed her her wedding certificate. She was Mrs. Theodore Melrose,
fast enough--though his mother never would see her or acknowledge her in
any way."

"They must think the Lord has made a special arrangement for
them--people like that!" Norma commented, turning a lovely flushed face
from the pan where she was dexterously crisping bacon. "What business is
it of hers if her son marries a working girl? That gives me a feeling
akin to pain--just because she happens to have a lot of money! What does
Miss Leslie Melrose think of that?"

"I don't know what she thinks--she loves her grandmother, I suppose.
Mrs. Melrose took her in when she was only a tiny girl, and she's been
the apple of her eye ever since. Theodore and his wife were divorced,
and when Leslie was about four or five he came back to his mother to
die--poor fellow! It was a terrible sorrow to the old lady--she'd had
her share, one way and another! My goodness, Norma," Mrs. Sheridan
interrupted herself to say, in half-reproachful appreciation, "I wish
you'd always help me like this, my dear! You can be as useful as ten
girls, when you've a mind to! And then perhaps to-morrow you'll be as
contrary----!"

"Oh, Aunt Kate, aren't you ashamed! When I ironed all your dish-towels
last night, when you were setting bread, and I made the popovers
Sunday!" Norma kissed her aunt, brushed a dab of cornstarch from the
older woman's firm cheek, and performed a sort of erratic dance about
the protestant and solid figure. "I'm a poor working girl," she said,
"and I get dragged out with my long, hard day!"

"Well, God knows that's true, too," her aunt said, with a sudden look of
compunction; "you may make a joke of it, but it's no life for a girl. My
dear," she added, seriously, holding Norma with a firm arm, and looking
into her