rangement had its immediate good effects. Somehow the
little old lady reminded her of Mahala, though Mahala was angular and
tall and wore steel-bowed spectacles; but she always associated Mahala
and peppermints together--perhaps that was the reason. Anyway, if Mahala
was as kind and thoughtful as this plump old lady, why need she be
anxious and troubled? Helen was young, and travelling was a delightful
novelty. She grew cheerful and chatty, and parted with her new friend at
the Junction with real sorrow. There was nearly an hour to wait at the
Junction. Her train met the down train home there, she remembered, and
she might send a postal back. But when she began to write, all the old
misgivings and conscience-twitchings surged upon her. She felt selfish
and cruel and wicked. What business had she running away from home,
where she belonged, taking care of Motherdie and the baby and the Arabs?
They all needed her--they all needed her. The words said themselves over
with dreary repetition in her heart. Back and forth, up and down the
platform, she paced restlessly. Conflicting emotions fought in
hand-to-hand struggles. She ought to go home again. She wanted to
go the other way. The old tingling in her fingers grew almost
irresistible--the longing to touch piano-keys and draw from them the
music she knew was in her soul. No, of course she couldn't give it up
now. And why need she?

Two whistles sounded in opposite directions. Helen walked faster than
ever. Oh, dear, dear, dear, why must the two trains meet right before
her eyes? There they were now. She watched the home train come jerkily
to a standstill, and _her_ train approach it on another track. She stood
suddenly still, and began to talk aloud. "That train goes home," she
said, "and _that_ one doesn't. Which one are you going on, Helen Scott?
Quick! Are you going home like a decent girl, or are you going to Uncle
'Gene's to practise scales like a heathen and a sinner?" The passengers
were almost all aboard. "Well, you can do as you please, Helen Scott.
_I'm_ going home to patch Harry's trousers and rub my blessed mother
with liniment!"

She darted ahead, and in another minute was on the train. She never knew
how she got on, but there she was. She settled back in her seat with a
deep sigh of relief. The other train started first, and she shut her
eyes so she wouldn't see it. "Good-by," she murmured, wistfully;
"good-by."

She felt weak and tired. It wasn't easy work