my maid, you must give up calling me 'miss,' for I am--Mrs. May."

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am. But 'twas because ye look so young,
it never entered me head ye could be married, and perhaps even a widow."

Angela did not speak, and at once the girl made sure that she had hit upon
the truth with her last words. The lovely lady was in black for her
husband, to whom she must have been married when almost a child. "My
name's Kate McGinnis, ma'am," she went quickly on, "and though I've got no
recommendations in writin', because I thought to take a husband and not
service, I can get a good word from the priest, and----"

"Your face tells me enough," Angela broke in. "I know you're a good girl,
and that you'll be a comfort to me on the journey. But if you go, you
mustn't expect to get out to Oregon immediately. I mean to travel to
California, and I should like you to stay with me until I settle
somewhere. Then I'll send you to the place where your _fiancé_ lives."

"That's what I'd like best of anything," exclaimed Kate. "Tim ain't ready
yet, but he will be soon--now the worry about payin' the big price of me
railway ticket will be off our minds. Oh, but doesn't it seem too good to
be true?"

"Why not say too good _not_ to be true?" asked Angela, whose optimism
to-day was ready to triumph over past stumbling-blocks. "It's settled,
then--if the hotel will let you off."

"I've giv' in me notice, miss--madam, I mean," replied the girl hastily.
"There's some things I don't think Tim would like about me bein' in a
hotel, and I was lookin' out for a private place. Me time's up here day