"And it is n't as if he did n't have his hands full, just running over full with his business and all," continued Mrs. Raymond. "You _know_ how successful he is, Helen. Now there's that club--what was it, president or treasurer that they made him? Anyhow, it was _something_; and that _shows_ how popular he is. And you know every letter tells us of something new. I 'm sure it is n't any wonder I 'm proud of him; and relieved, too--I did hope some one of my children would amount to something; and I 'm sure Herbert has." There was a pause. Herbert's sister was washing the dishes now, hurriedly, nervously. Herbert's mother watched her with dissatisfied eyes. "Now there's you, Helen, and your music," she began again, after a long sigh. "You _know_ how disappointed I was about that." "Oh, but piano practice does n't help to sell goods across the counter," observed Helen dully. "At least, I never heard that it did." "'Sell goods,'" moaned the other. "Always something about selling goods! Helen, _can't_ you get your mind for one moment off that dreadful store, and think of something higher?" "But it's the store that brings us in our bread and butter--and codfish," added Helen, half under her breath. It was a foolish allusion, born of a much-tried spirit; and Helen regretted the words the moment they had left her lips. "Yes, that's exactly what it brings--codfish," gloomed Mrs. Raymond. "I'm glad you at least realize that." There was no reply. Helen was working faster now. Her cheeks were pink, and her hands trembled. As soon as possible she piled Mrs. Mason's dinner dishes neatly on the tray and hurried with them to the outer door of the suite. "Now, Helen, don't stay," called her mother. "You know how much I'm alone, and I just simply can't go to bed yet. I'm not one bit sleepy." "No, mother." The voice was calm, and the door shut quietly; but in the hall Helen paused at the head of the stairs, flushed and palpitating. "I wonder--if it would do any good--if I should--throw them!" she choked hysterically, the tray raised high in her hands. Then with a little shamed sob she lowered the tray and hurried downstairs to the apartment below. "It's only me, Mrs. Mason, with the dishes," she said a moment later, as her neighbor peered out into the hall in answer to the knock at the door. "I'm a little late to-night." "Oh, to be sure, Miss Raymond; come in--come in. Why, child, what ails you?" cried the woman, as Helen stepped into the light. "Ails me? Why, nothing," laughed the girl evasively. "Shall I put the things here?" As she set the tray down and turned to go, the elder woman, by a sudden movement, confronted her.