the girl home in
the car on that stormy night, so Miss Laura would have said. She did not
guess what it would mean to Olga and through her to other girls--many
others--before all was done.

Silverstein's was a large department store on Seventh Street. Lizette
Stone, listlessly putting away goods the next day, stopped in surprise
at sight of Olga Priest coming towards her.

"Almost closing time, isn't it?" Olga said, and added, as Lizette nodded
silently, "I want to speak to you--I'll wait outside."

In five minutes Lizette joined her. "Do you walk home?" Olga asked.

"Yes, it isn't far--Ninth Street near T."

"We're neighbours then. I live on Eleventh."

"I know. Saw you going in there once," Lizette replied.

There was little talk between them as they walked. Lizette was
waiting--Olga wondering what she should say to this girl.

"Well, here's where I hang out." In Lizette's voice there was a reckless
and bitter tone.

"O--here!" Olga's quick glance took in the ugly house-front with its
soiled "Kensington" curtains--its door ajar showing worn oilcloth in the
hall.

"Cheerful place--eh?" Lizette said. "Want to see the inside, or is the
outside enough?"

"I want you to come home to supper with me--will you?" Olga said, half
against her will.

"Do you mean it?" Lizette's hard blue eyes searched her face. "Take it
back in a hurry if you don't, for I'd accept an invitation from--anybody
to-night, rather than spend the evening here."

"Of course, I mean it. Please come." Olga laid a compelling hand on the
other girl's arm and they went on down the street.

"Now you are to rest while I get supper," Olga said as she threw open
her own door. "Here--give me your things." She took Lizette's hat and
coat. "Now you lie down in there until I call you."

Without a word Lizette obeyed.

Olga creamed some chipped beef, toasted bread, and made tea, adding a
few cakes that she had bought on the way home. When all was ready, she
stood a moment, frowning at the table. The cloth was fresh and clean,
but the dishes were cheap and ugly. She had never cared before. Now,
for this other girl, she wanted some touch of beauty. But Lizette found
nothing lacking.

"Everything tastes so good," she said. "You sure do know how to cook,
Olga."

"Just a few simple things. I never care much what I eat."

"You'd care if you had to eat at Miss Rankin's table," Lizette declared.

With a question now and then, Olga drew her on to tel