The two boxes with hinged lids she nailed to the wall in the corner she called her diningroom and kitchen. These were her china closets. She carefully placed her paper cups and plates in one and arranged the cracker box, the milk bottle and other supplies in the other. Somehow she must manage shelves for them. There were some loose bits of boards in one box. These would make shelves if she could manage to borrow an old saw. In the corner beyond the window next her bed she placed another box for a dressing table. Some day she would drape it in chintz and get a looking glass to hang over it. Chintz or cretonne was really one of the next things she needed. There must be a curtain to shut off her bedroom. She did not want everybody to know she was sleeping on a paper bed, and a curtain would give a little privacy. Besides, she must curtain off a small corner for a closet. She was suddenly interrupted in her meditations by a tap at her door. “I wondered if you were here yet,” said Mrs. Bryant as she opened the door, “No, I can’t come in, I’ve got to run back and start supper. But I just stepped over to tell you Mrs. Powers, the lady that lives in the big brick colonial with tulips in the yard, perhaps you’ve noticed it--she was at the Ladies’ Aid today and was going on something terrible about how she was going to have company from Baltimore tomorrow, and her maid had gone away sick yesterday and isn’t coming back for a week. She had telephoned in town for a maid but they couldn’t get her any she would have and she didn’t know what to do. She said her friend hadn’t seen her in a long time and she wanted to take her around in the car and she just didn’t see how she was to cook dinner too. Well, she seemed so distressed and all that I finally up and told her how you helped me out last night. I don’t know’s you’ll like it, but she seemed so interested that I went on and told her all about you, how you were a teacher, and you’d bought this little house and were going to teach school in the fall, and then she looked awfully disappointed and said: ‘Oh, she’s a teacher, is she? Then I don’t suppose she’d be willing to help me out, would she?’ And I said, well, no, I didn’t suppose you intended doing things like that, that you were a perfect lady, but you might do it once for accommodation. I finally said I’d tell you anyhow. She said if you would come she’d gladly pay you five dollars for cooking dinner, and if you were willing to wait on the table too why she’d pay ten. I really hated to tell you about it after I’d promised, but you can do as you like.” “Why, I’d be glad to help her,” said Joyce pleasantly, “and I’d like to wait on the table too. I really want to earn the money of course, and while I don’t think I want to be a cook for life, still I don’t see that it’s going to hurt me to cook a few dinners for other people. I’ve had to do it in my own home a good many times.”