They went up to the clean, bare room, with its white iron bed, its cool,
spotless shades and shining windows. Zora walked about softly and
looked, while Miss Smith quietly searched on desk and bureau, paying no
attention to the girl. For the time being she was silent.

"I sometimes wish," she began at length, "I had a bright-eyed girl like
you to help me find and place things."

Zora made no comment.

"Sometimes Bles helps me," added Miss Smith, guilefully.

Zora looked sharply at her. "Could I help?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Why, I don't know,"--the answer was deliberate. "There are one or two
little things perhaps--"

Placing a hand gently upon Zora's shoulder, she pointed out a few odd
tasks, and left the girl busily doing them; then she returned to the
office, and threw Miss Taylor's complaint into the waste-basket.

For a week or more Zora slipped in every day and performed the little
tasks that Miss Smith laid out: she sorted papers, dusted the bureau,
hung a curtain; she did not do the things very well, and she broke some
china, but she worked earnestly and quickly, and there was no thought of
pay. Then, too, did not Bles praise her with a happy smile, as together,
day after day, they stood and watched the black dirt where the Silver
Fleece lay planted? She dreamed and sang over that dark field, and again
and again appealed to him: "S'pose it shouldn't come up after all?" And