and trees; indulged in bus rides to the Park occasionally;
and walked for the exercise.

It's strange how easily some opportunities turn up, and others can't be
dug with spade and shovel. One day, aimlessly strolling along a side
street, up among the fifties, a card in a milliner's shop chanced to
meet my eye. "Girl Wanted," it said, in large black letters.

It was late in the afternoon. If I had set out in quest of that
opportunity, the position would have been filled before I arrived. But
this one was still open. They wanted a girl to deliver, and perhaps to
help a little in the work-room--sewing in linings, and things like that.
The hours were short; the bundles not heavy; I needed exercise; it had
been ordered by the hospital.

The work agreed with me perfectly. It was very easy. I liked the varied
rides, and the interesting search for streets and numbers. It was just
diverting enough for my mending nerves. The pay was not much. I didn't
object. I was still convalescing.

Crossing Fifth Avenue one day, rather overloaded with two large
bandboxes which, though not heavy, were cumbersome, I saw Mrs. Sewall!
A kindly policeman had caught sight of me on the curbing and signaled
for the traffic to stop. As I started across, I glanced up at the
automobile before which I had to pass. Something familiar about the
chauffeur caught my attention. I looked into the open back of the car.
Mrs. Sewall's eyes met mine. She didn't smile. There was no sign of
recognition. We just stared for a moment, and then I hurried along.

I didn't think she knew me. My illness had disguised me as if I wore a
mask.

I was, therefore, surprised the next morning to receive a brief note
from Mrs. Sewall asking me to be at my room, if possible, that evening
at half-past eight.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE POT OF GOLD

Esther was out canvassing for suffrage. She canvassed every other
evening now. She had not touched the manuscript of her book for weeks.

Esther could earn a dollar an evening at canvassing. One evening's
canvassing made a dozen egg-nogs for me. Esther poured them down my
throat in place of chicken and fresh vegetables. I couldn't stop her. I
wasn't allowed even to say "Thank you."

"I'd do the same for any such bundle of skin and bones as you," she
belittled. "Don't be sentimental. You'd do it for me. We'd both do it
for a starved cat. It's one of the unwritten laws of humanity--women and
children first, and food for the sta