"I'm seventeen. And I ain't a bit afraid of work, am I, Dan?" "I am sure you are not," said Mrs. Purdy. "Dan often tells me what a fine girl you are. Only we wish you would come to some of our services. Dan is getting to be one of our star members. So conscientious and regular! We call him our model young man." "I expect it's time we was going," said Dan, greatly embarrassed. But owing to the fact that he wanted very much to be a gentleman, and didn't quite know how, he stayed on and on, until Nance informed him it was eleven o'clock. At the door Mrs. Purdy gave final instructions about the new position, adding in an undertone: "It might be just as well, dearie, for you to wear a plainer dress when you apply for the place, and I believe--in fact I am quite sure--Cousin Lucretia would rather you left off the ear-rings." "Ain't ear-rings stylish?" asked Nance, feeling that she had been misinformed. "Not on a little companion," said Mrs. Purdy gently. Nance's elation over the prospect of a job was slightly dashed by the idea of returning to the wornout childish garb in which she had left the home. "Say, Dan," she said, as they made their way out of Butternut Lane, "do you think I've changed so much--like Mrs. Purdy said?" "You always look just the same to me," Dan said, as he helped her on with her coat and adjusted the collar with gentle, painstaking deference. She sighed. The remark to a person who ardently desired to look different was crushing. "I think Mrs. Purdy's an awful old fogey!" she said petulantly by way of venting her pique. Dan looked at her in surprise, and the scowl that rarely came now darkened his face. "Mrs. Purdy is the best Christian that ever lived," he said shortly. "Well, she ain't going to be a Christian offen me!" said Nance. The next morning, in a clean, faded print, and a thin jacket, much too small for her, Nance went forth to find Miss Lucretia Bobinet in Cemetery Street. It was a staid, elderly street, full of staid, elderly houses, and at its far end were visible the tall white shafts which gave it its name. At the number corresponding to that on Nance's card, she rang the bell. The door was opened by a squinting person who held one hand behind her ear and with the other grasped the door knob as if she feared it might be stolen. "Who do you want to see?" she wheezed. "Miss Bobinet." "Who?" "Miss Bobinet!" said Nance, lifting her voice. "Stop that hollering at me!" said the old woman. "Who sent you here?" "Mrs. Purdy." "What for?" Nance explained her mission at the top of her voice and was grudgingly admitted into the hall. "You ain't going to suit her. I can tell you that," said the squint-eyed one mournfully, "but I guess you might as well go in and wait until she wakes up. Mind you don't bump into things."