f I did, an' I'm sure you wouldn't ast
that o' me!"

"But," said Claire, troubled, "you told me Radcliffe is so
unmanageable."

Mrs. Slawson devoted herself to her chocolate and buns for a moment or
two. "O, never you fear about Radcliffe," she announced at length. "He's
a good little fella enough, as little fellas goes. When you know how to
handle'm--which is _right side up_ with care. Him an' me come to an
understandin' yesterday mornin', an' he's as meek an' gentle as a
baa-lamb ever since. I'll undertake you'll have no trouble with
Radcliffe."

"Is this the wonderful plan you spoke of? Is _this_ the job you said was
going to be so satisfactory all 'round?" inquired Claire, her
misgivings, in connection with her prospective pupil, by no means
allayed.

"Well, not eggsackly. I can't say it is. _That_ job will come later. But
we got to be pationate, an' not spoil it by upsettin' our kettles o'
fish with boardin'-schools, an' such nonsense. Meanwhile we can put in
time with Mrs. Sherman, who'll pay you well, an' won't be too skittish
if you just keep a firm hand on her. This mornin' she got discoursin'
about everythin' under the canopy, from nickel-plated bathroom fixin's,
an' marble slobs, to that state o' life unto which it has pleased God to
call me. She told me just what I'd oughter give my fam'ly to eat, an'
how much I'd oughter pay for it, an'--I say, but wasn't she grand to
have give me all that good advice free?"

Claire laughed. "She certainly was, and now you've just _got_ to go to
bed. I don't dare look at the clock, it's so late. Good-night, you
_good_ Martha! And thank you, from way deep down, for all you've done
for me."

But long after Mrs. Slawson had disappeared, the girl sat in the
solitude of her shadowy room thinking--thinking--thinking. Unable to get
away from her thoughts. There was something about this plan, to which
Martha had committed her, that frightened, overawed her. She felt a
strange impulse to resist it, to follow her own leading, and go to the
school instead. She knew her feeling was childish. Suppose Radcliffe
were to be unruly, why, how could she tell that the girls in the
Schoharie school might not prove even more so? The fact was, she argued,
she had unconsciously allowed herself to be prejudiced against Mrs.
Sherman and the boy, by Martha's whimsical accounts of them,
good-natured as they were. And this strange, premonitory instinct was
no premonitory instinct at all, it wa