"I--came this morning to ask--your advice," she added after a heavy pause. "I thought--that is, mother thought--that perhaps you--might know of something I could do to--to earn money. I must do something, you know." She had grown hot and cold with the shame of this confession under the unwinking gaze of Mrs. Crownenshield's colourless eyes. That lady folded her large white hands upon which glittered several massive rings. "I shall be very glad to advise you," she said, "if you will acquaint me with your qualifications for service. I have frequent opportunities to place indigent but worthy females, such as you appear to be. Are you a good seamstress?" "I fear not, Mrs. Crownenshield," faltered Evelyn. "I never liked sewing." "You could earn a dollar a day as a skilled seamstress," intoned the female philanthropist inexorably. "Whether you like sewing or not is of very little consequence in view of your necessities." "I thought I should prefer teaching, or----" Mrs. Crownenshield glanced abstractedly at the massive watch which depended from some sort of funereal device in black enamel upon her ample bosom, and compared its silent information with that of the black marble time-piece on the mantle. Then she arose with a smile, which appeared to have been carven upon her large pallid face with the effect of a mask. "I am very sorry indeed that I can not give you more of my time this morning," she said mournfully. "But I have a board-meeting of The Protestant Evangelical Refuge for aged, indigent and immoral females at half-past eleven o'clock; and at one I am due at a luncheon of the Federated Woman's Charitable Associations of Boston, at which I shall preside." She arose and enfolded both of Miss Tripp's small cold hands in her large, moist clasp, with an air of fervid emotion. "I feel for you," she sighed, "I do indeed! and my heart bleeds for your unfortunate mother. Mary Tripp was always accustomed to every luxury and extravagance. She must feel the change to abject poverty; but I trust she will endeavour to lift her thoughts from the sordid cares of earth toward that better land where--I feel sure--my dear late husband is enjoying the rest that remaineth. After all, my poor girl, the consolations of religion are the only sure refuge in this sad world. I always strive to point the way to those situated like yourself." "Thank you, Mrs. Crownenshield," said Evelyn stonily. "If there is anything I can do to assist you further, don't fail to call upon me freely!" warbled the lady, as Evelyn passed out into the hall. "I will send you copies of the literature illustrating the work of our various refuges and asylums. You may be glad to refer to them later."