lle Joy, who was following Ellen, looked keenly at him, some
one sniggered aloud, and a girl said quite audibly, "My land!"

Ellen followed Robert into the office, and he bent over her,
speaking rapidly, in a low voice.

"You must not walk home in this snow," he said, "and the cars are
not running. You must let me take you. My sleigh is at the door."

Ellen turned white. Somehow this protecting care for herself, in the
face of all which she had been considering that day, gave her a
tremendous shock. She felt at once touched and more indignant than
she had ever been in her whole life. She had been half believing
that Robert was neglecting her, that he had forgotten her; all day
she had been judging his action of cutting the wages of the workmen
from her unswerving, childlike, unshadowed point of view, and now
this little evidence of humanity towards her, in the face of what
she considered wholesale inhumanity towards others, made her at once
severe to him and to herself, and she forced back sternly the leap
of pleasure and happiness which this thought of her awakened. "No,
thank you," she said, shortly; "I am much obliged, but I would
rather walk."

"But you cannot, in this storm," pleaded Robert, in a low voice.

"Yes, I can; it is no worse for me than for others. There is Maria
Atkins, she has been coughing all day."

"I will take her too. Ellen, you cannot walk. You must let me take
you."

"I am much obliged, but I would rather not," replied Ellen, in an
icy tone. She looked quite hard in his face.

Robert looked at her perplexed. "But it is drifting," he said.

"It is no worse for me than for the others." Ellen turned to go.
Her attitude of rebuff was unmistakable.

Robert colored. "Very well; I will not urge you," he said, coldly.
Then he returned to his desk, and Ellen went out. She caught up with
Maria Atkins, who was struggling painfully through the drifts,
leaning on Abby's arm, and slipped a hand under her thin shoulder.

"I expect nothing but she'll get her death out in this storm,"
grumbled Abby. "What did he want, Ellen?"

"Nothing in particular," replied Ellen. Uppermost in her mind at
that moment was the charge of cruelty against Robert for not taking
her hint as to Maria. "He can ask me to ride because he has amused
himself with me, but as for taking this poor girl, whom he does not
love, when it may mean life or death to her, he did not think
seriously of doing that for a moment," she tho