And her mother hadn’t the heart to tell her the truth--that even in memory the ardent, enchanting lover was supplanted by the querulous and unshaven sufferer who lay dying for months and months of some disease which they didn’t understand, and which the busy doctor didn’t trouble to explain to them. "I hope you’ll be sensible, Angelica," she said. She saw well enough that her story had made no sort of impression upon her child. Angelica was still so young that what happened to other people and what happened to her had no connection in her mind. She fancied that all her experiences, as well as all her ideas, were unique. Her mother could read in her face that she was thinking now, not of her mother’s past, but of her own future. "I hope you’ll be sensible," she said again. "Try to learn to be satisfied with your lot in life. That’s how all my troubles began--being discontented. Try to be satisfied." "No, I shan’t," said her rebellious child. "Listen, mommer!" "Well?" "I was thinking. I don’t know--but I thought--maybe there’s something in this." She handed her mother a scrap torn from a newspaper. CHEERFUL young lady wanted as companion for invalid; experience unnecessary. Apply Thursday morning to Mrs. Russell, Buena Vista, Baycliff, Westchester. "But, deary, don’t you see?" cried her mother, startled. "You don’t mean that _you’d_ try for that?" "Why not, mother?" demanded Angelica, flushing. "But, deary, don’t you see? It’s--they’ll--they wouldn’t want a girl like you." "_Why not?_" she asked again, still more fiercely. But her mother wouldn’t say it. Anyway, she knew that Angelica understood her meaning perfectly. "A waste of carfare," she said. "All that money--there’s no sense at all in your going. There’ll be dozens after the place--girls that--that’ll suit better." Her object was to spare her child the humiliation she foresaw for her--a factory girl, a bold-eyed, ignorant young thing in the cheapest sort of clothes, offering herself to a lady as a companion! Herself brought up in a quite different way, accustomed to recognizing, without snobbery and without resentment, that there were in the world groups of people better and groups worse than her own sort, she could not comprehend Angelica’s attitude. Angelica envied without admiring. In fact, she despised "rich people" almost as much as her father had, but her ambition in life was to be one of them. "I’ll risk the carfare," she said. "I’m going to try, anyway. You know, mommer, maybe they’re sick of those silly little dolls--‘ladies’--especially if it’s an invalid. They said ‘cheerful,’ you know." "All ladies aren’t silly dolls," said Mrs. Kennedy, displeased. "And I don’t know as you’re so cheerful, Angelica." "I could be, if I wanted. Anyway, I’m going to try. I’ll just take the fare. I’ll give you all the rest, mommer."