Doubts were soon put to flight by the appearance of Mrs. Sassaman, a stouter, paler creature, but Mrs. Sassaman without question, who gazed at Ellen speechlessly while she held fast to the door.
"Oh, thou dear peace!" she said at last. "Ellen, is it you?"
Ellen could not speak. Mrs. Sassaman cooed like a mourning dove.
"Did you come to see me once then, Ellen?"
Ellen nodded, and Mrs. Sassaman opened the door wider upon an atmosphere saturated with the steam of washing and scented with the odor of boiling sauerkraut, and led her into a little parlor where she sat down and put her satchel on the floor. Mrs. Sassaman's tears had begun to flow and it was not until several moments had passed that she could proceed.
"Well, Ellen!" said she again.
"I have come to the city to work," explained Ellen, trying to express in her voice the courage which she believed she felt in her soul.
Mrs. Sassaman was not encouraging.
"Oh, Ellen, the city is an awful place! People, people, people, and dirt, dirt, dirt!"