prepare, her mother to get to
bed, and the noon dishes to clear away. Helen drew in her breath sharply
as she thought of the dinner. She hoped that it had not been
codfish-and-cream to-day. If it had, she must speak to Mrs. Mason.
Codfish twice a week might do, but five times! (Mrs. Mason was the
neighbor who, for a small sum each day, brought Mrs. Raymond her dinner
fully cooked.) There was a waist to iron and some mending to do. Helen
remembered that. There would be time, however, for it all, she thought;
that is, if it should not unfortunately be one of her mother's wakeful
evenings when talking--and on one subject--was the only thing that would
soothe her.

Helen sighed now. She was almost home, but involuntarily her speed
slackened. She became suddenly more acutely aware of the dreary flapping
of her wet skirts against her ankles, and of the swish of the water as it
sucked itself into the hole at the heel of her left overshoe. The wind
whistled through an alleyway in a startling swoop and nearly wrenched her
umbrella from her half-numbed fingers, but still her step lagged. The
rain slapped her face smartly as the umbrella careened, but even that did
not spur her to haste. Unmistakably she dreaded to go home--and it was
at this realization that Helen's shame deepened into a dull red on her
cheeks; as if any girl, any right-hearted girl, should mind a mother's
talk of her only son!

At the shabby door of the apartment house Helen half closed her umbrella
and shook it fiercely. Then, as if freeing herself from something as
obnoxious as was the rain, she threw back her head and shook that, too.
A moment later, carefully carrying the dripping umbrella, she hurried up
three flights of stairs and unlocked the door of the rear suite.

"My, but it sprinkles! Did you know it?" she cried cheerily to the
little woman sitting by the west window.

"'Sprinkles'! Helen, how can you speak like that when you _know_ what a
dreadful day it is!" fretted the woman. "But then, you don't know. You
never do know. If _you_ had to just sit here and stare and stare and
stare at that rain all day, as I do, perhaps you would know."

"Perhaps," smiled Helen oddly--she was staring just then at the havoc
that that same rain had wrought in what had been a fairly good hat.

Her mother's glance followed hers.

"Helen, that can't be--your hat!" cried the woman, aghast.

Helen smiled quizzically. "Do you know that's exactly w