again, or be a boy and give her to the ash-man's children without a
pang."

Mollie hung her head. There was color coming and going in her cheeks,
her fingers trembled,--how they longed to snatch Helena!--and her mind
was full of indecision. Mr. John watched her closely, and he thought
he saw the tide turning in favor of her girlhood. He held the doll
nearer that it might tempt her fingers; but, on the instant, she
turned and ran away. He tucked Helena under his coat and carried her
upstairs and locked her in a drawer, there to abide until Mollie
should want her again.

That was a gloomy day to Mollie. She was out of humor with her
boyhood. She was ashamed of herself one moment for bewailing Helena,
and furious the next with Mr. John and the ash-man. She felt cross and
discouraged, and was glad when the darkness came, and she could go to
bed and sleep. But the next morning she was in no cheerier, braver
frame of mind; and she walked home at noon, considering plain sewing
_versus_ book-keeping as a means of subsistence. Mr. John would have
rejoiced if he could have seen his "little leaven" working.

"The gutters on the roof are full of leaves, Mollie," said her mother
as she came in. "Stop on your way back to school and send Michael to
clean them out. I think we are going to have rain, and we don't want
them washed into the pipes."

"How much will he charge, mother?"

"About fifty cents."