good maid. From the first Susan had attached herself to Mrs. Smith, and, for
love and two dollars a week, she learned all that a lady's maid should know.
When Mrs. Smith asked her if she would like to go to New York, Susan jumped up
and down and clapped her hands. Susan was as sweet and lovable as she was
useful, and under Mrs. Smith's care she had been transformed into such a thing
of beauty that Clarence could hardly recognize her. Instead of tow-colored hair,
crowded back by means of a black rubber comb, Susan had been taught a neat
arrangement of her blonde locks--so great is the magic of a few deft touches.
Instead of being a gawky girl of seventeen, in a faded blue calico wrapper,
Susan, as transformed by one of Mrs. Smith's simple white gowns, was a young
lady. She so worshipped Mrs. Smith that she imitated her in everything, even to
the lesser things, like motions of the hand, and tossings of the head.

When Mrs. Smith broached the matter of taking Susan to New York, she received a
shock from Mr. and Mrs. Bell. She had not for one moment doubted that they
would be delighted to find that Susan could have a good home, good wages, and a
city life, instead of the existence in such a town as Clarence.

"Well, now," Mr. Bell said, "we gotter sort o' talk it over, me an' ma, 'fore we
decide that. Susan's a'most our baby, she is. T'hain't but four of 'em younger
than what she is in our fambly. We'll let you know, hey?"

Ma and Pa Bell talked it over carefully and came to a decision. The decision was
that they had better talk it over with some of the neighbors. The neighbors met
at Bell's and talked it over openly in the presence of Mrs. Smith.

They agreed that it would be a great chance for Susan, and they said that no one
could want a nicer, kinder lady for boss than what Mrs. Smith was--"but 'tain't
noways right to take no risks."