So, "I know you don't approve, Tom," I replied almost gently, "and there's truth in what you say--that women are made to run homes and families, instead of businesses, most of them. Of course Elise wouldn't give up one of her babies! She's one of the 'most-of-them.' How are the babies anyway?" CHAPTER XXVIII A CALL FROM BOB JENNINGS One day, however, I realized that I hadn't walked around Tom. I really hadn't circumvented, by persistence and determination, the obstacles that lay in the way to triumph. Some one, like a fairy godmother from Grimm's, had waved a wand and wished the obstacles away. Virginia told me about it. I learned that except for Mrs. Sewall I might still be delivering bandboxes. The searchlight following me about wherever I went for the last six months, making my way bright and easy, came not from heaven. It came instead from a lady in black who chose to conceal her good offices beneath an unforgiving manner, as she hid the five hundred dollars inside a trivial bag. Mrs. Sewall called one day at the shop. She asked for Miss Van de Vere. She was contemplating redecorating a bed-chamber, it seemed. Virginia came to me in the workshop, and told me about it. "Your old lady is out there," she said. "You'd better take her order." "My old lady?" "Yes, Mrs. Sewall, who landed you in our midst, my dear." I stared at Virginia. "Certainly, and pays a portion of your ridiculous salary, baby-mine." She went on pinching my cheek playfully. She delights in patronizing me. "You're an expensive asset, my dear--not but what I am glad. I always urged somebody of your sort to relieve me. Mrs. Scot-Williams never saw it that way, however, until the old lady Sewall came along and crammed you down our throats. I wasn't to tell you, but I see no harm in it. Go on in, and whatever the tiff's about make it up with the old veteran. She's not a bad sort." I went upstairs. My heart was bursting with gratitude. I had vexed, displeased, cruelly hurt my benefactress--she had likened me to a steel knife--and yet she had bestowed upon me my greatest desire. Much in the same way as I had rescued the little bug, buffeted by winds, Mrs. Sewall had picked me up and placed me at the zenith of my hopes. But for her, no Mrs. Scot-Williams, no Van de Vere's, no trade of my own, no precious business to work for, and make succeed! "Mrs. Sewall," I began eagerly (I found her alone in the living-room), "Mrs. Sewall----" and then I stopped. There was no encouragement in her expression. "Ah, Miss Vars," she remarked frostily. "Mrs. Sewall--please," I begged, "please let me----" "My time is limited this morning," she cut in. "Doubtless Miss Van de Vere has sent you to me to attend to my order. If so, let us hasten with it. I am hunting for a cretonne with a peacock design for a bed-chamber. I should like to see what you have." "But Mrs. Sewall----" "My time is limited," she repeated. "I know, but I simply _must_ speak."