ely fell asleep.

But the next morning she was pale and heavy-eyed, and Mrs. Montague
evidently realized that it was unwise to make her apply herself so
steadily, for she made out a memorandum of several little things which
she wanted and sent Mona down town to purchase them.

The girl came back looking so bright and fresh, and went at her work with
so much vigor, the woman smiled wisely to herself.

"She hasn't been used to such close application, it is plain to be
seen," she mused, "and I must take care or she will give out. She sews
beautifully, though, and rapidly, and I want to keep her, for I believe
she can be made very useful."

So every day after that she sent her out for a while on some pretext or
other, and Mona felt grateful for these moments of respite.

One day she was sent to Macy's with a longer list than usual, and while
there she came face to face with a couple of acquaintances--young ladies
who, like herself, had only that winter been introduced to society.

They had been only too eager, whenever they had met her in company, to
claim the wealthy Mr. Dinsmore's niece as their friend.

Mona bowed and smiled to-day, as she met them, but was astonished and
dismayed beyond measure when they both gave her a rude stare of surprise,
and then passed on without betraying the slightest sign of recognition.

For a moment Mona's face was like a scarlet flame, then all her color
as quickly fled, leaving her ghastly white as she realized that she had
received the cut direct.

Her heart beat so heavily that she was oppressed by a feeling almost of
suffocation, and was obliged to stop and lean against a pillar for a
moment for support.

She did not see that a young man was standing near, watching her with a
peculiar smile on his bold face. He had observed the whole proceeding,
and well understood its meaning, while, during all the time that Mona
remained in the store, he followed her at a distance. Her emotion passed
after a moment, and then all her pride arose in arms. Her eyes flashed,
her lips curled, and she straightened herself haughtily.

"They are beneath me," she murmured. "Homeless, friendless as I am
to-day, I would not exchange places with them. I am superior to them
even in my poverty, for I would not wound the humblest person in the
world with such rudeness and ill-breeding."

Yet, in spite of this womanly spirit, in spite of the contempt which she
felt for such miserable pride of purse and p