"Oh, Mrs. Slawson," she said, going down the garden-path to meet her. "I’m so glad you’ve come. I’ve been thinking about you, ever since you were here last, because I’m in trouble, and, I feel, somehow, you can help me out. You’ve helped me out before, you know." Her wistful attempt at a smile went to Martha’s heart. "Well, my dear, helpin’ out is my speciality. Reg’lar service I have not done since I was married, but helped out by the day, as there was need. So, here I am, an’ if I can be of use, I never counted my _day_ by the clock, an’ if the childern fall asleep on the grass itself, it won’t hurt’m none. It’s too hot to rest indoors, anyhow." "We’ll go to the back porch, where our voices won’t disturb grandmother," explained Miss Crewe, leading the way. "P’raps I better tell you right off what brought me," Martha began, taking the lower porch step to sit upon in preference to the more comfortable chair, on the level with her own, which Katherine indicated. "No, please don’t!" Miss Crewe protested. "Let me speak first. I’m so afraid something may happen to interrupt, and I know mine is more important. I _must_ tell some one." The girl did not pause, except to take breath between her difficult sentences. "You remember the day grandmother had me bring her her linen-chest? It all dates from that day, I mean my trouble. I thought I knew before, what trouble was, but _real_ trouble is only what one has to account for to one’s own conscience." Martha pretended not to notice the sobbing breath, on which the last syllables caught, and were choked out.