As she spoke Marion put her arms around Dollie’s waist and laid her head a trifle wearily on the plump, white shoulder. It was a pretty picture of sisterly devotion, which only their guardian angels witnessed. They were alone in New York, without money or friends, except one poor girl whose heart was bigger than her purse, but who divided with them her every penny gladly. There was a step on the stairs as the girls extinguished their light, then an agonized voice called to them through the key-hole: “Girls! Girls! Let me in for just one minute, do!” Marion opened the door quickly, and admitted Miss Allyn. “Girls, my mother is dead and I’ve got to go home,” said the little reporter, brokenly. The next moment she was sobbing on Marion’s shoulder. CHAPTER X. A DEED OF VALOR. It was the day following Miss Allyn’s departure to her distant home, and Marion Marlowe was once more making the rounds of the city. As she stood before the door of a handsome brown-stone residence her brain was teeming with some hitherto almost unknown sensations. Why was it that some should have so much and others so little? Why should she be so utterly destitute of even the necessaries of life, while others were basking idly in the sunshine of luxury? The memory of that hateful mortgage had not left her day or night, yet as the weeks passed by they left her worse off than ever. She could now hardly afford to buy food for her sister and herself. Since Miss Allyn’s departure Dollie had worried herself sick and was now lying at home, ill with an obstinate slow fever. Good Mrs. Haley had helped them all she could, but her husband was poor and the demands upon them were enormous. Marion groaned to think of being obliged to call upon her for anything. As the door of the handsome house swung open Marion stepped wearily into the hall, where she was asked by a haughty butler to state her errand to his mistress. “She advertised for a governess,” said Marion, plaintively, “and I have an excellent education, I feel sure that I could suit her.” “Know French and German?” asked the man in a hard voice. “Can you teach the Delsarte method and play the piano?” Marion stared at him for a second. “The advertisement reads that Mrs. Van Siegen will pay only $20 per month,” she said faintly. “Is it possible she expects any such accomplishments for that money?” “Certainly,” said the butler with a pompous wave of his hand. “She not only expects it, but she’ll doubtless get it. There’s hundreds that will jump at the position which she offers.” “Poor things. Well, they are welcome to it,” said Marion, with a sigh. “There must be people worse off than I am in the city.” She went out of the house with dull despair in her heart. This bit of information had set her thinking. If women with such accomplishments were willing and glad to work for such money, it was plainly to be seen that there was little hope for her, with only a thorough New England school education.