“I expected that my mother’s cousin, who papa said, was very wealthy, and able to take care of me, and had promised him to do so, would give me a place in her home as a member of her family, and give me an opportunity to perfect my education, so that I might be able, by and by, to take care of myself. This was what my father understood her promise to me to mean—this was what I expected. But from the reception she has given me—cold and heartless—and as I would not have received the meanest beggar who came to my door—from disrespectful and insulting remarks about my parents, and what she said about my ‘duties’, I am afraid that my position here will not be a pleasant one.” Mrs. Blunt’s homely face was full of pity as she listened to what Star said. “Poor child,” she began, “you have expected entirely too much, and perhaps it would be a mercy to tell you at once how mistaken you are if you think you are going to find a pleasant home and a chance to get much of an education _here_. When madam got your father’s letter and knew that you were soon to be an orphan, she said at once that it was ‘just the thing,’ and you would do nicely to supply the place of Maggie Flynn, the chamber and errand girl, and who was not exactly trustworthy. She said the ‘English peasants always made good servants,’ and as you were young and would be wholly dependent on her, she could train you according to her own notions. And, to make a long story short, you are to make beds and do chamber-work generally, wait upon madam and run of errands.” And the housekeeper heaved a sigh of relief that the difficult explanation was over. And difficult it was, with those glittering sapphire eyes fixed so intently upon her, and that beautiful face gleaming with scorn and indignation. “In other words, she intends to make a servant—a slave of me,” she said, with quiet sarcasm, but uplifted head. “Ye-es—if you must put it so, miss,” Mrs. Blunt admitted, reluctantly. “What wages am I to expect?” and the clear young voice rang with intense scorn. “Wages?” “Yes, _wages_. What did she pay Maggie Flynn?” Star demanded, with a bitter smile. “Six dollars a month; but—but I don’t think madam has thought about wages for _you_. She is to give you a home for what you can do; and besides what I have told you, you are to wait upon Miss Josephine, who is not sparing of her commands, either.” “Who is Miss Josephine, pray?” “The young lady of the house—Mrs. Richards’ daughter.” “How old is she?” “Just turned eighteen.” “Two years my senior,” murmured Star, reflectively. “Well, Mrs. Blunt,” she added, after a moment or two, and looking up with a clearer face, “show me to my room, please, and let me have a good bath, for I need refreshing sadly. If only I might have some clean underclothing to put on,” she added, wistfully.