“No offense, no offense,” Carson protested hastily, with a chuckle that he meant to sound conciliatory. “I’m a man that likes his joke, and it does strike me as funny that a fine, upstanding college man like you, due to come into property some day, should cotton to a scared little rabbit of an orphan like Sally here—” “That’ll do, Clem!” Mrs. Carson interrupted sharply. “Get ahead with your breakfast and clear out, all of you! Sally and me have got a big day’s work ahead of us. Pearl, I want you to drive to Capital City for some more Mason jars for me. I’m all out.” Later, when Sally was washing dishes, Pearl bounced into the kitchen, dressed for her trip to the city, her arms full of soiled white shoes, stockings and silk underwear. “Sally,” she said, her voice like a whip-lash, “I want you to clean these shoes for me today and wash out these stockings and underwear. See that you do a good job, or you’ll have to do it over.” Sally, raking the suds from the dishpan off her arms and hands, accepted the pile of garments dumbly, but resentment gushed hotly in her throat. “I’ve got enough work laid out for Sally to keep her busy every minute today,” Mrs. Carson rebuked Pearl sharply. “Why can’t you do your own cleaning, Pearl?” “Because I’ve got a luncheon date and a matinee in town today, and I need these things for tonight. I’m going to a party at the Mullins’ Goodby, Mom. Two dozen jars enough?” When Sally was again bent over the dishpan she heard the little old grandmother’s uncertain, quavering voice: “It ain’t fair, Debbie, the way you let Pearl run over Sally. She’s a nice, polite-spoken little girl, the best worker I ever see.” “I know, Ma,” Mrs. Carson answered in so kind a voice that fresh tears swam in Sally’s eyes. “Pearl’s been spoiled. But I’m too busy now to take it out of her. I wonder, Ma, if you couldn’t rip up them other two dresses that Pearl gave Sally? The child really ain’t got a thing to wear. If you’ll just rip the seams, I’ll stitch ’em myself at night, if I ain’t too tired.” Sally whirled from the dishpan, stooped swiftly and laid her lips for an instant upon Mrs. Carson’s hand. Then, flushing vividly, she ran back to the kitchen sink, seized the big flour-sack dish towel and began to polish a glass with intense energy. Although Mrs. Carson made no comment on Sally’s shy caress, the girl felt that from that moment the farmer’s wife was her friend, undeclared but staunch. Knowing that any day might prove to be her last on the farm, for Carson never let slip an opportunity to threaten her by innuendo with the disgrace of being sent back to the Home, Sally found a ray of comfort in the fact that Grandma Carson, probably because she felt sorry for Sally, constantly hectored as she was by the jealous, vicious-tongued Pearl, was slowly but surely completing the necessary alterations upon the other two dresses that Pearl had given her.