her to his home; she could be only a working girl again.

CHAPTER XXVII.

In the hour of Dorothy's desolation her heart went back to Jack Garner,
who had loved her so in other days. Poor Jack! whom she had thrown over
so cruelly for a handsomer, wealthier fellow, only to be deserted by him
in turn for the first pretty face that had crossed his path.

And that very day came the turning point of her life.

She had answered an advertisement a few days before by letter to an
intelligence office, and in the course of a week she received the
following reply:

"MY DEAR MADAM--Replying to your note, would say your
communication was hardly explicit enough for us to
determine whether you would suit our patron or not.

"The party we refer to is Mrs. Garner, a widow. Her
family consists of one son, a niece who lives with
them, and a young lady.

"They wish a companion for Mrs. Garner. She requires a
somewhat elderly woman. Even the child would not be so
objectionable, if the right person were secured."

The letter dropped from Dorothy's hand, and she uttered a low cry; but
presently picking it up, and reading it eagerly through again, she found
a postscript added to it which read as follows:

"Call, if you please, at the Garner homestead
to-morrow, at 10:30 A. M., if convenient."

Dorothy's heart beat quickly. Could it be possible that this Garner
family and the one she had known were one and the same? Oh, no! it
could not be, for they were poor, very poor, and these people lived in a
fashionable quarter.

Jack might plod along all his life and never have a dollar ahead. Poor
Jack! And her eyes grew moist as she thought of him. Ah, how well he had
loved her!

Dorothy knew quite well that according to the requirements of the
advertiser she would not suit on account of her youth. An older person
than herself was wanted; yet the thought of the possibility of taking
little Pearl with her caused her to ponder over the matter very
carefully. Surely there was _some_ way to meet the difficulty.

"I am afraid I will not get the situation I was telling you of last
night," said Dorothy to her landlady; and she told her why.

"Youth and beauty, although the greatest blessings Heaven can give us,
often bring with them a certain train of disadvantages. I once knew a
young and most lovely girl who, on this very account, could not get
work. She resorted to a desperat