Helen lifted her head eagerly. "Money?" "Yes. A new crisp dollar bill. He told me to get something pretty--some little trinket that I'd like." "But, a dollar--only a dollar," murmured Helen. "Now you're needing a wrapper, but that--" "A wrapper, indeed!" interrupted Mrs. Raymond in fine scorn. "A wrapper is n't a 'trinket' for me! I'd have wrappers anyway, of course. He said to buy something pretty; something I'd like. But then, I might have known. _You_ never think I need anything but wrappers and--and codfish! I--I'm glad I've got one child that--that appreciates!" And Mrs. Raymond lifted her handkerchief to her eyes. Across the table Helen caught her lower lip between her teeth. For a moment she did not speak; then very gently she said:-- "Mother, you did n't quite mean that, I'm sure. You know very well that I--I'd dress you in silks and velvets, and feed you on strawberries and cream, if I could. It's only that--that-- But never mind. Use the dollar as you please, dear. Is n't there something--some little thing you would like?" Mrs. Raymond lowered her handkerchief. Her grieved eyes looked reproachfully across at her daughter. "I'd thought of--a tie; a lace tie with pretty ends; a _nice_ tie. You _know_ how I like nice things!" "Of course, you do; and you shall have it, too," cried Helen. "I'll bring some home tomorrow night for you to select from. Now that will be fine, won't it?" The other drew a resigned sigh. "'Fine'! That's just like you, Helen. You never appreciate--never realize. Perhaps you do think it's 'fine' to stay mewed up at home here and have ties _brought_ to you instead of going out yourself to the store and buying them, like other women!" "Oh, but just don't look at it that way," retorted Helen in a cheerful voice. "Just imagine you're a queen, or a president's wife, or a multi-millionairess who is sitting at home in state to do her shopping just because she wishes to avoid the vulgar crowds in the stores; eh, mother dear?" "Mother dear" sniffed disdainfully. "Really, Helen," she complained, "you are impossible. One would think you might have _some_ sympathy, _some_ consideration for my feelings! There's your brother, now. He's all sympathy. Look at his letter. Think of that dollar he sent me--just a little thing to give me happiness. And he's always doing such things. Did n't he remember how I loved peppermints, and give me a whole box at Christmas?" Helen did not answer. As well she knew, she did not need to. Her mother, once started on this subject, asked only for a listener. Wearily the girl rose to her feet and began to clear the table.