ok me and gave me her mother's name. Don't you
think that very sweet of her? To Aunt Debby, Hester Palmer Alden was the
name she loved the most and she gave it to me."
"Yes, she must have loved you, too, or she would never have given you
that name. It was not what you said that caused me to be displeased with
you. Shall I tell you?"
Hester shook her head slowly. She was yet sitting on the floor near the
door of the closet. All about her, were odds and ends of her
possessions.
"No, do not tell me. I know I did not do anything else to make you
despise me. So please don't tell me what it was. Whatever it was, I did
not do it and I might feel hurt if I knew that you suspected me of
anything very bad."
"Very well, little roommate. We'll never talk about the matter. We'll
clean off our slates and make them clean for the next lesson," said
Helen. "That is what Miss Mary used to tell us when we went to primary
grade."
"I always liked to hear you say 'little roommate.' Next year, Helen, you
will not be here to say it. I wonder who will call me that." The tears
were near Hester's eyes, but she forced them back and smiled.
"Perhaps, someone nicer than I and someone you will love better."
"That will never be. It couldn't be. But you'll come back to visit?"
"I do not think it will be possible. Father says I may go to an eastern
college. That will take me far from here. I do not wish to go four
years. I intend taking special work; for I mean to be a settlement
worker."
Hester nodded. Just then she could not have said a word if her life had
depended upon it. She thought that Helen's giving up a life of ease and
luxury to work among the people of the slums, was a glorious thing;
although she herself could not have done such a thing and had no desires
in that direction.
"It will be lovely, Helen," she said at last. "Perhaps when you are
working somewhere I shall come to visit you."
"Perhaps you may be working with me. Who knows?"
"I know I shall never be that kind of a worker. I intend to be a
novelist. Perhaps, I shall find a great deal of material when I come
down to visit you. I think being a great novelist would be glorious."
"Yes, if one could be great and could write life as it is and make
people better by the writing."
"That is the kind I intend being," said Hester with conviction, and yet
not conceit. "I shall be a great one or none at all. I never should like
mere commonplace writing. I should li
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