CHAPTER VII


When Martha let herself into her flat that night, she was welcomed by
another beside Flicker.

"You _naughty_ Martha!" whispered Claire. "What do you mean by coming
home so late, all tired out and worked to death! It is shameful! But
here's a good cup of hot chocolate, and some big plummy buns to cheer
you up. And I've got some good news for you besides. I didn't mean to
tell right off, but I just can't keep in for another minute. _I've got a
job!_ A fine, three-hundred-dollars-a-year-and-home-and-laundry job! And
a raise, as soon as I show I'm worth it! Now, what do you think of that?
Isn't it splendid? Isn't it--_bully_?"

She had noiselessly guided Martha into her own room, got her things off,
and seated her in a comfortable Morris chair before the lighted
oil-stove, from whose pierced iron top a golden light gleamed cheerily,
reflecting on the ceiling above in a curious pattern.

"Be careful of the chocolate, it's burning hot. I kept it simmering till
I heard you shut the vestibule door. And--O, yes! No danger in sipping
it that way! But you haven't asked a single thing about my job. How I
came to know of it in the first place, and how I was clever enough to
get it after I'd applied! You don't look a bit pleased and excited over
it, you bad Martha! And you ought to be so glad, because I won't need to
spend anything _like_ all the money I'll get. I'm to have my home and
laundry free, and one can't make many outside expenses in a
boarding-school 'way off in Schoharie--and so I can send you a lot and a
lot of dollars, till we're all squared up and smoothed out, and you