and women among the poor and vicious. Mr. Woolling was a sincere
well-meaning man, but he no more knew how to catch men with a
Christ-like magnetism and guile than how to render one of Beethoven's
symphonies; and he was so constituted that he could never learn.
It was an open question whether he did not do more harm than good;
and those who employed him might and ought to have known the fact.

Fortunately for the Jocelyns, there were other workers in that part
of the vineyard, and Mrs. Wheaton had said to herself more than
once, "Ven my young lady comes 'ome she'll git 'old of these 'ere
people and make things better for 'em." One day, about the middle
of September, there was a light knock at the door of the large
living-room that had been made so inviting. Mildred opened it
and admitted a young woman, who appeared not very much older than
herself, and who she saw at a glance was of her own class in respect
to refinement and cultivation. Although entire strangers, the eyes
of the two girls met in woman's intuitive recognition.

"This is Miss Jocelyn, I think," said the visitor in an accent that
to the poor girl sounded like her native tongue, so long unheard.

"You are correct," replied Mildred, with exploring eyes and a quiet
and distant manner. "Will you please be seated," she added after
a moment, as the young lady evidently wished to enter.

It was in the afternoon, and the room had its usual pretty order
at that hour. Fred and Minnie were seated by Mrs. Jocelyn, who
was giving them their daily lesson from an illustrated primer; and
they, with their mother, turned questioning eyes on the unexpected
guest, who won their good-will almost instantly by a sunshiny