ide a trivial bag.

Mrs. Sewall called one day at the shop. She asked for Miss Van de Vere.
She was contemplating redecorating a bed-chamber, it seemed. Virginia
came to me in the workshop, and told me about it.

"Your old lady is out there," she said. "You'd better take her order."

"My old lady?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sewall, who landed you in our midst, my dear."

I stared at Virginia.

"Certainly, and pays a portion of your ridiculous salary, baby-mine."
She went on pinching my cheek playfully. She delights in patronizing me.
"You're an expensive asset, my dear--not but what I am glad. I always
urged somebody of your sort to relieve me. Mrs. Scot-Williams never saw
it that way, however, until the old lady Sewall came along and crammed
you down our throats. I wasn't to tell you, but I see no harm in it. Go
on in, and whatever the tiff's about make it up with the old veteran.
She's not a bad sort."

I went upstairs. My heart was bursting with gratitude. I had vexed,
displeased, cruelly hurt my benefactress--she had likened me to a steel
knife--and yet she had bestowed upon me my greatest desire. Much in the
same way as I had rescued the little bug, buffeted by winds, Mrs. Sewall
had picked me up and placed me at the zenith of my hopes. But for her,
no Mrs. Scot-Williams, no Van de Vere's, no trade of my own, no precious
business to work for, and make succeed!

"Mrs. Sewall," I began eagerly (I found her alone in the living-room),
"Mrs. Sewall----" and then I stopped. There was no encouragement in her
expression.

"Ah, Miss Vars," she remarked frostily.

"Mrs. Sewall--please," I begged, "please let me----"

"My time is limited this morning," she cut in. "Doubtless Miss Van de
Vere has sent you to me to attend to my order. If so, let us hasten
with it. I am hunting for a cretonne with a peacock design for a
bed-chamber. I should like to see what you have."

"But Mrs. Sewall----"

"My time is limited," she repeated.

"I know, but I simply _must_ speak."

She raised her hand. "I hope," she said, "that you are not going to make
me ill again, Miss Vars."

I surrendered at that. "No, no," I assured her. "No, I'm not. I'm
thoughtless. I think only of myself. I'll go and call Miss Van de Vere."

"That will not be necessary," said Mrs. Sewall. "You may show me the
cretonne, now that you are here."

For half an hour we hunted for peacocks. I had the samples brought down
to the living-room, piled on a chair near-by,