e we have
some refreshment and you can tell me the secret in comfort."

Molly smiled at her own Southern peculiarities cropping out in this
little friend.

"Mommer sent me this caramel cake yesterday. It's made from a very old
recipe. I hope you'll like the tea. I'm sorry I can't offer you any
real cream. I would just as soon eat cold cream for the complexion as
condensed cream. It's all right for cooking with, but it doesn't go well
with tea and coffee, which I always make in my own rooms, especially
coffee. It's never strong enough at the place I take my meals. But you
said something about a secret?"

Somehow Molly's affairs seemed to dwindle into insignificance in
comparison with this great tidal wave of conversation, and she resolved
not to take Madeleine into her confidence after all. It occurred to her
that she would soon become a raving maniac if she lived next door to
anyone who talked as much as that.

"It's really not much of a secret," answered Molly lightly. "Miss Walker
asked me to come down and look over some empty rooms here for someone,
and I thought, maybe, if you could spare the time you would come with
me."

"I can always spare the time to be of service to you," exclaimed
Madeleine. "You have done so much for me. You really gave me my start
here, you know."

"Nonsense!" put in Molly.

"Yes, you did. You sent Miss Stewart to me and introduced me to some of
the older girls, who have all been very nice. They would probably never
have heard of me but for you."

When they had finished the tea and cake, which were delicious, they
inspected the vacant rooms, to a steady accompaniment of Madeleine's
conversation. Molly wondered how the capable, clever, industrious little
creature could accomplish so much when her tongue went like a
clap-hammer most of the time. But there was no doubt that she achieved
marvels and was already well up in her classes. Poor Molly's temples
ached with the steady hum. Her tongue was dry and she had a wild impulse
to jump out the window. How could she explain to kind Miss Walker that
she could not live over the post-office? Would it not be an unfriendly
act to tell the real reason?

"It's bad enough as it is," she thought, "leaving my sweet old Queen's,
but this would be beyond human endurance. It will have to be a room
over the general store or at Mrs. O'Reilly's. Anything but this."

The post-office rooms were bare and crude, and poor Molly was sick at
heart when at