About nine o'clock, Betty and Dell Siegler were escorted by one of the Elders to a house not far from the Mission House. "This will be your home, until President Gladder has assigned you your companion and field of labor," he explained, as he rang the bell. "When will that be?" asked Betty. "In a day or so," he answered. The door was opened by a neat, thin little old lady. Introductions over, the Elder left them. "I'll take you right to your room, young ladies,--follow me." The tone was kindly polite, but to Betty's sensitive ears, it sounded strangely business-like. They followed the old lady up three flights of stairs, and then into a square back room. Betty watched her light the "welsbach," which was quite a curiosity to her. "Put the gas out carefully when you go to bed," she said. "Sometimes it turns all the way round and the gas escapes," and with this admonition and a pleasant "goodnight," she was gone. Dell and Betty looked around the room, and then at each other. "It's stuffy, don't you think? Let's open the windows," said Dell. "What is that for?" asked Betty curiously, looking at one corner of the room. "O, that is a little cook stove--my sister told me she had one on her mission. See!" and Dell pushed aside a faded cretonne curtain. "Here are all the dishes and cooking utensils. We prepare our own meals, you know." "Not in our bed-room, surely!" exclaimed Betty. "Why, of course we do!" laughed Dell. "You don't seem to know much about missionaries' ways. Even the Elders have to live this way." Betty felt ashamed to have expressed her feelings so, but she was ready to do anything for her mission work. "I hope that you won't think me fussy," she said apologetically, "I'm willing to do anything for my mission. But it does seem strange at first, doesn't it?" "It surely does," replied Dell, "and I guess you'll think of your roomy Ephraim home many times when you are eating, sleeping, and studying in one little coop like this." "But we won't be in it much, will we?" "That's the big part of it--we won't," laughed Dell. The two girls got into bed and then thought of the gas. "Betty, I don't understand gas-jets,--will you put it out?" "I'm afraid to," returned Betty anxiously. "I know they're dangerous,--I saw her put a match over it. Wasn't that queer? But I'm not sure how to put it out." "To be on the safe side," said Dell, practically, "Leave it alight. It may keep us awake a bit, but I'd just like a good talk or--" "Or what?" "O, I know I'll get homesick. Hurry up, Betty, talk! Just talk! I feel it coming on!" "So do I," said Betty with quivering lips. "I don't believe I _can_ talk--much." That was enough. Dell's head dived into the pillow, and her little slim figure shook with sobs. This was too much for Betty. For a few moments she stroked the fair head of her companion, with admirable self-control, but when Dell pulled her over and hugged her close, Betty's tears came thick and fast.