Milly's visitors was not due to any vulgar
desire to push herself into superior circles, merely a human curiosity
about these members of another world and a pathetic admiration for their
refinement. With the same attitude she was painstakingly, if shyly,
improving her table manners and her speech. To Virginia's relief she had
largely suppressed "ain't" already, and occasionally bestowed a final
syllable on the participles.

* * * * *

But Milly had many more real worries than these trifling social
maladjustments between her old friends and her new one. Her small funds
were dwindling rapidly, as usual, even with the practice of a greater
economy than she had ever before attempted. All her feeble efforts to
find employment and earn money had failed. She felt herself slipping
down, and with all her courageous determination to save herself from
social chaos she was like a bird fluttering at the brink of a chasm,
unable to wing itself steadily out of danger. The Reddons, she knew,
would soon need their apartment, for Marion was coming north in the
first warm weather. Then there would be for herself and Virginia nothing
but a boarding-house, from which she shrank. And after that, what?
Mornings she woke to consciousness with a start of terror, realizing
that the weeks were melting to days,--days of grace as for a criminal!
What should she do? What _could_ she do? She envied Ernestine as she had
never envied any one in her life, when she saw her striding off in the
morning, her head in the air, a serious scowl on her plain face,
competent and equipped in the face of life....

Ernestine found her one evening at a low point in her depression over
her fate. Milly had told far less of her circumstances to the
working-woman than Ernestine had told of hers in their mutual
confidences. Social pride--a sense of caste--had prevented Milly from
confessing her miserable situation. But now she unfolded the whole
story, with a few tears.

"If it wasn't for Virgie," she sobbed, "I'd walk into the river
to-night--I'd do anything to end it. I'm no good."

"Don't you talk like that, dearie!" Ernestine said, getting up
impulsively and with her heavy tread crossing the room. She took Milly
in her strong arms and held her tight. "Don't ever say those things
again!" she murmured in an uncertain voice, hugging the yielding figure
to her. "Don't I know how you feel?... I guessed things weren't very
rosy with you