"Oh, but, mother, dear, you shouldn't. Besides, I thought you said you were going to have one." "I thought at first I would, but I've changed my mind. There will be just us two, and I'd rather have a stout woman come twice a week for the laundry and cleaning. With you gone all day I shall need something--to take up my mind." Betty said more, much more; but to no purpose. Her mother was still obdurate. It was then that into Betty's mind came a shrewd suspicion, but she did not give it voice. When evening came, however, she did ask some questions. It was the night before she was to go for the first time to take up her work. "Mother, how did we happen to come up here, to Dalton?" "Happen to come up--here?" Helen was taken by surprise. She was fencing for time. "Yes. What made us come here?" "Why, I--I wanted to be near to make a home for you, of course, while you were at work." "But why am I going to work?" Helen stirred restlessly. "Why, my dear, I've told you. I think every girl should have something whereby she could earn her bread, if it were necessary. And when this chance came, through Dr. Gleason, I thought it was just the thing for you to do." Indifferently Betty asked two or three other questions--immaterial, irrelevant questions that led her quite away from the matter in hand. Then, as if still casually, she uttered the one question that had been the purpose of the whole talk. "Mother, have we very much--money?" "Why, no, dear, not so very much. But I wouldn't worry about the money." The answer had come promptly and with a reassuring smile. But Betty tossed both the promptness and the reassuring smile into the limbo of disdain. Betty had her answer. She was convinced now. Her mother was poor--very poor. That was why there was to be no maid. That was why she herself was to go as secretary to this Mr. Denby the next day. Mother, poor, dear mother, was poor! As if _now_ she cared whether she liked the place or not! As if she would not be glad to work her fingers off for mother! CHAPTER XXI THE PLAY BEGINS "I shall take you over, myself," said Helen to her daughter as they rose from the breakfast table that first day of October. "And I shall show you carefully just how to come back this afternoon; but I'm afraid I shall have to let you come back alone, dear. In the first place, I shouldn't know when you were ready; and in the second place, I shouldn't want to go and wait for you." "Of course not!" cried Betty. "As if I'd let you--and you don't even have to go with me. I can find out by asking." "No, I shall go with you." Betty noticed that her mother's cheeks were very pink and her eyes very bright. "Don't forget the doctor's letter; and remember, dear, just be--be your own dear sweet self." "Why, mother, you're--_crying_!" exclaimed the dismayed Betty. "Crying? Not a bit of it!" The head came proudly erect. "But does it mean so much to you that I--that I--that he--likes me?" asked Betty softly.