Ellen looked at her with large, indignant
eyes. She had not the least idea what she meant, at least she
realized only the surface meaning, and that angered her.

"I suppose he gave me the job because there was a vacancy," she
returned, with dignity.

The other girl laughed. "Mebbe," said she.

Ellen continued to look at her, and there was something in her look
not only indignant, but appealing. Nellie Stone's expression changed
again. She laughed uneasily. "Land, I didn't mean anything," said
she. "I'm glad for you that you got the job. Of course you wouldn't
have got it if there hadn't been a chance. One of the girls got
married last week, Maud Millet. I guess it's her place you've got.
I'm real glad you've got it."

"Thank you," said Ellen.

"Good-bye," said the girl.

"Good-bye," replied Ellen.

On Monday morning the heat had broken, and an east wind with the
breath of the sea in it was blowing. Ellen started for her work at
half-past six. She held her father's little, worn leather-bag, in
which he had carried his dinner for so many years. The walk was so
long that it would scarcely give her time to come home at noon, and
as for taking a car, that was not to be thought of for a moment on
account of the fare.

Ellen walked along briskly, the east wind blew in her face, she
smelled the salt sea, and somehow it at once soothed and stimulated
her. Without seeing the mighty waste of waters, she seemed to
realize its presence; she gazed at the sky hanging low with a scud
of gray clouds, which did not look unlike the ocean, and the sense
of irresponsibility in the midst of infinity comforted her.

"I am not Ellen Brewster after all," she thought. "I am not anything
separate enough to be worried about what comes to me. I am only a
part of greatness which cannot fail of reaching its end." She
thought this all vaguely. She had no language for it, for she was
very young; it was formless as music, but as true to her.

When she reached the cross-street where the Atkinses lived Abby and
Maria came running out.

"My land, Ellen Brewster," said Abby, half angrily, "if you don't
look real happy! I believe you are glad to go to work in a
shoe-shop!"

Ellen laughed. Maria said nothing, but she pressed close to her as
she walked along. She was coughing a little in the east wind. There
had been a drop of twenty degrees in the night, and these drops of
temperature in New England mean steps to the tomb.

"You make me m