s the smart set on Long Island, where their new palace is, won't
realize they're the Hands. Isn't it ridiculous? Like an ostrich hiding
its head in the sand. She runs her father and mother socially. I guess
the old man hardly dares put his nose inside the store, except about
once a year; and Ena and the old lady never buy a pin there. As for
the young fellow, they say he doesn't bother: hates business and wants
to be a philanthropist or something outlandish on his own. I should
say to him, if he asked _me_: 'Charity begins at home.'"

Those last two sentences spoken by Miss Emma Seeker on Winifred
Child's first night in New York had as direct an effect upon the
girl's life as if the ringed hands had come down out of the sky and
clutched her dress. She did not attach much importance to the words at
the time, except to think it snobbish of Miss Rolls and weak of her
mother never to show themselves under the roof where their fortune was
being piled up. Also, she thought it disappointing of Peter junior not
to "bother" about the business which had been his father's life work.
But then Peter was altogether disappointing, as Miss Rolls (with an
"e") had disinterestedly warned her.

It was not until Win had been in New York for a month that the
influence of Miss Seeker's words made itself felt, and the Hands gave
their twitch at the hem of her dress. They had been on her mind often
enough during the four weeks--morning, noon, and night--but she had
never known that she was physically within touching distance.

The "happy omen" of getting her passage to New York free had stopped
working on the _Monarchic_. Since then bad luck had walked after her
and jumped onto her lap and purred on her pillow, exactly like a cat
that persistently clings to a person who dislikes it. All the
positions which she was competent to fill were filled already. Only
those she could not undertake seemed to be open. She tried to sing,
she tried to teach, she tried to report news, she tried to be a
publisher's reader, and to get work in a public library. She tried to
make hats, she tried to act, but nobody wanted her to do any of these
things, unless, perhaps, she went away and trained hard for a year.
When matters began to look desperate, and not till then, she applied
to Nadine.

But Lady Darling had gone back to England, and Miss Sorel, not having
recovered her health after the great tossing at sea, had been replaced
by a brand-new American manager