help being when you are so pretty and fortunate and have all the things
that other girls have just to dream of possessing."

It was odd, perhaps, but the new girl's speech was made so simply and
sincerely that Betty Ashton instead of feeling angry or complimented was
instead a little ashamed. Had fortune been kinder to her than to other
girls, kinder than to the awkward girl in front of her in her plain gray
linen dress?

Betty now backed toward the door which she had so lately opened. "I am
sorry to have disturbed you, but usually this room isn't occupied and I
was curious to know who could be in here. I should have knocked. Some
day you must sing that lovely song to me, again, for I think I would
like very much to know just what my soul's desire is. The worst of life
is not knowing just what you want."

Esther had followed Betty toward the hall. "How funny that sounds to
me," she returned shyly, "because I think the hard part of life is not
having what you want. I know very well. But can't I do something for
you now? Your mother said you were not well and perhaps would not wish
to see me this afternoon, but I could read to you or--"

Betty's irritability returned. "Thank you very much," she returned
coldly, "but I can think of nothing in the world that would amuse me at
present. I simply wish not to freeze, and to save my life I can't get
one of our tiresome maids to answer my bell."

Betty's grand manner had returned, but in spite of her haughtiness the
newcomer persisted. "Do let me make the fire for you. I am only a wood-
gatherer at present, but pretty soon I shall be a real fire-maker, for I