e failure of this system to work that had brought about
the present crisis in her affairs.

* * * * *

One o'clock arrived, and Milly, who was genuinely aroused by the
harsh-voiced working-woman, invited Ernestine to stay for the mid-day
meal, which on account of the child was dinner rather than lunch. The
light in Ernestine's black eyes and the pleased, humble tone in which
she exclaimed,--"Oh, may I!" touched Milly.

So the three presently sat down around the small table, which Milly had
served in the front room of the flat rather than in the dark pocket of a
dining-room. That seemed to Ernestine a very brilliant idea, and she was
also much impressed by the daintiness of the table and the little
details of the meal. Milly had a faculty of getting some results even
from such unpromising material as Marion Reddon's sullen Swede. She knew
very well how food should be cooked and served, how gentlefolk were in
the habit of taking their food as a delightful occasion as well as a
chance to appease hunger, and she always insisted upon some sort of
form. So the mid-day meal, which seemed to Milly poor and forlorn
compared with what she had known in her life, was a revelation to
Ernestine of social grace and daintiness. Her keen eyes followed Milly's
every motion, and she noted how each dish, and spoon, and fork was
placed. All this, she realized, was what she had been after and failed
to get. Milly apologized for the simple meal,--"Hilda isn't much of a
cook, and since we've been by ourselves, I have lost interest in doing
things."

"It ain't the food," Ernestine replied oracularly.

(When Virgie went to take her nap, she inquired of her mother why the
nice "queer" lady said "ain't" so often.)

* * * * *

It was raining in torrents, and the two women spent the long afternoon
in a series of intimate confidences. Milly's greatest gift was the
faculty of getting at all sorts of people. Now that she had become used
to the voice and the grammar of the street which Ernestine employed, and
also to the withered hand, she liked the working-woman more and more and
respected her fine quality. And Ernestine's simple, obvious admiration
for Milly and everything about her was flattering. In the plain woman's
eyes was the light of adoration that a man has for the thing most
opposite to his soul, most lacking in his experience.

In the course of this long talk Milly learne