"There!" said Desire, when she had read it, to Bel Bree who was in the room. "The Providence mail is in, early; and this is for you." When Bel had seen what it was, she realized suddenly that Providence had taken her at her word. She was in for it now; here was this thing for her to do. Her breath shortened with the thought of it, as with a sudden plunge into water. Who could tell how it would turn out? She had been so brave in counseling and urging others; what if she should make a mistake of it, herself? "She hasn't anybody; she would take Kate, maybe Kate must just go. It won't be half a chance to try it, if I can't try it my way." "It is a clear stage," said Desire Ledwith. "If you can act out your little programme anywhere, you can act it at the Schermans'." "Is it a cellar kitchen?" Bel laughed as soon as she had asked the question. She caught herself turning catechetical at once, after the servant-girl fashion. "I was thinking about Kate. But I don't wonder they inquire about things. It's a question of home." "Of course it is. There ought to be questions,--on both parts. Every fair person knows _that_ is fair. Neither side ought to assume the pure bestowal of a favor. But the one who has the home already may be supposed to consider at least as carefully whom she will take in, as she who comes to offer service as an equivalent. I believe it is a cellar kitchen; at least, a basement. The house is on the lower side; there must be good windows." "I'll go right round for Kate, and we'll just call and see. I don't know in the least how to begin about it when I get there. I could do the _thing_, if I can make out the first understanding. I hope Kate won't be very Kate-y!" She said so to Miss Sencerbox when she found her. "You needn't be afraid. I'm bound to astonish somebody. Impertinence wouldn't do that. I shall strike out a new line. I'm the cook,--or the chambermaid,--which is it? that they haven't had any of before. I shall keep my sharp relishes for our own private table. You might discriminate, Bel! I know I've got a kind of a pert, snappy-sounding name,--just like the outside of me; but if you stop to look at it, it isn't _Saucebox_, but _Sensebox_! They're related, sometimes, and they ain't bad together; but yet, apart, they're different." CHAPTER XXVII. BEL BREE'S CRUSADE: THE TAKING OF JERUSALEM. Mrs. Frank Scherman's front door-bell rang. Of course she had to go down and open it herself. When she did so, she let in two girls whose pretty faces, bright with a sort of curious expectation, met hers in a way by which she could hardly guess their station or errand. She did not know them; they might be anybody's daughters, yet they hardly looked like _technical_ "young ladies." They stepped directly in without asking; they moved aside till she had closed the door against the keen November wind; then Bel said,-- "We came to see what help you wanted, Mrs. Scherman. Miss Ledwith told us."