steadily out of the window; she could do nothing for more than a
moment at a time. Her thoughts went backward and forward like a
weaving shuttle: "How good they've all been to me! How grateful I am!
Now if only, only, I can make good!"

"Look out for the servants!" Julie, from the depth of her sixteen
years-old wisdom had warned her sister. "The governess will hate you
because she'll be afraid you'll cut her out, and Mrs. Carr-Boldt's
maid will be a cat! They always are, in books."

Margaret had laughed at this advice, but in her heart she rather
believed it. Her new work seemed so enchanting to her that it was not
easy to believe that she did not stand in somebody's light. She was
glad that by a last-moment arrangement she was to arrive at the Grand
Central Station at almost the same moment as Mrs. Carr-Boldt herself,
who was coming home from a three-weeks' visit in the middle west.
Margaret gave only half her attention to the flying country that was
beginning to shape itself into streets and rows of houses; all the
last half hour of the trip was clouded by the nervous fear that she
would somehow fail to find Mrs. Carr-Boldt in the confusion at the
railroad terminal.

But happily enough the lady was found without trouble, or rather
Margaret was found, felt an authoritative tap on her shoulder, caught
a breath of fresh violets, and a glimpse of her patron's clear
skinned, resolute face. They whirled through wet deserted streets;
Mrs. Carr-Boldt gracious and talkative, Margaret nervously interested
and amused.

Their wheels presently grated against a curb, a man in livery opened