“So she is the high stepper you wrote about? Well, don’t draw the bit too tight,” Alex. said, laughingly. “I want everybody to have a good time,—help and all. I could not enjoy myself if they were being ground down like machines,—so treat them well, Mrs. Groves,—treat them well, and if No. 1 wants to step high, let her, provided she does not kick over the traces.” “Which she will, if you have your way,” Mrs. Groves replied. “Well, let her kick,” was Alex.’s rejoinder. He was beginning to feel a good deal of interest in No. 1, who, with a dozen fresh towels on her arm, was going towards corridor No. 2. “What are you doing? The racks are full of towels,” a chambermaid said to her. “Obeying Mrs. Groves’ orders,” was Sherry’s reply, as she went on and knocked at the first door in the corridor. It chanced to belong to Amy Marsh, who, thinking it one of her friends, called out familiarly, “_Entrez_, if you can get in.” The tone of her voice changed very materially when she saw who it was. “Oh,” she said, “I thought Martha was the maid on this floor.” “She is, but Mrs. Groves sent me,” Sherry answered, laying a part of her towels on the already well-filled rack. “Yes; well, now you are here, I wish you would put up some of my things, which I have scattered everywhere in unpacking my trunk to get my dress for dinner,” Amy said. “When I have disposed of these I will help you,” Sherry replied, leaving the room, while Amy looked after her curiously. The girl’s personality was beginning to impress her. “I wonder who she is,” she thought. “Not an ordinary, sure; but some saleslady, I dare say, or teacher. They usually carry their chins in the air, and hers is very high. No matter, I mean to make her useful.” Amy’s room was littered with the different articles she had dragged from her trunk, and these on her return Sherry began to put away, while Amy questioned her as to her name, and where she had lived, and in what capacity she was at Maplehurst. Sherry told her she was waitress No. 1, that her name was Fanny, that she came from the country and was neither a saleslady, nor typewriter, nor teacher. Amy did not ask her last name. Like Mrs. Groves, she did not care. Fanny was enough, and as she seemed willing, notwithstanding the way she held her head and chin, she asked her to button her dress and fasten her collar and see if her skirt hung right. And Sherry did what was required of her and did it so well that Amy said to her, “Seems as if you must be a lady’s maid, you are so handy. Are you?” “No, I have not that honor. I was never any one’s maid but my mother’s and sister’s. I am glad if I pleased you,” Sherry answered, and her chin certainly did take an upward tilt, and there were red spots on her cheeks as she left the room and went down to receive Mrs. Groves’ last directions before dinner.