anted to do. The tears suddenly softened her
eyes.

"Oh, Helen, an idea has just come to me." Mrs. Dayton had been putting
some last touches to the table and paused at the corner with a glass in
her hand, studying the girl with comprehensive interest. "I suppose you
meant to stay at home during vacation and help your Aunt? But Aurelia's
getting a big girl and there are so many of you. I wonder if you
wouldn't like to come over here and help me, and get paid for it? Why, I
think you'd just suit. Did you see that old lady sitting on the front
porch? That's Mrs. Van Dorn. She was here last summer. She had a
companion then, a real nice girl about twenty, that she had sort of
adopted. She has no end of money and is queer and full of whims. She
wants to go to Europe in the fall and spend the winter in France. She
travels all over. But the girl, Miss Gage, didn't want to go."

"Oh, dear, you don't mean"--Helen stopped and colored scarlet, and her
breath came in bounds.

"That you should go in her place? Oh; no, you can't indulge in such
luxuries just yet. Miss Gage finally consented on condition that she
could spend the summer with her folks on Long Island. There's quite a
family of them, and they seem to care a good deal for each other. Mrs.
Van Dorn wants someone to run up and down for her, read to her, fan her
sometimes and go out driving with her. She doesn't get up until after
eight, and has coffee, fruit, and rolls brought up to her room. And
she's a great hand for flowers--her vases must be washed out and filled
every day. Then she comes down on the porch, wants the paper read to her
and likes to talk over things. After dinner she takes a nap. Then she
goes for a drive. They used to take a book along last summer, she's as
fond of poetry as any young girl. Mr. Warfield said you were the finest
reader of poetry in the school. And what I'm driving at is that I do
believe you could suit her, and I'd like someone to help me out a little
when I'm rushed. Joanna's good, but one pair of hands can't do
everything. I asked Mary Cross to come over and read, but she drones,
and she can't bear poetry. And I've been thinking who I could find. You
see it isn't like a maid. Miss Gray, the nurse, comes in every morning
and gives her massage and all that. She's smart enough to help herself
and hates to be thought old. Now, if you could come and help both, and
earn a little money? It would be three dollars a week, and no real hard
work