“A very pretty little girl, and not at all aware of her own value,” mused Mr. Bowers. “I am lucky to have secured her.”
Eager to communicate her increase of salary to her father and good Martha Grey, who had always shown so warm an interest in her welfare, Helen hastened home immediately after rehearsal.
Flushed with exercise, and with a bright smile playing over her face, she danced into Martha Grey’s little room.
“O Martha!” she ejaculated, sinking into a chair, “I am all out of breath running, I was so anxious to tell you of my good fortune. You are the very first that I wanted to tell it to.”
“What is it, Helen?” inquired Martha, looking up from her never-ceasing work with an expression of interest.
“What do you think it is? Guess now,” said Helen, smiling.
“I never was good at guessing, Helen. I think the shortest way will be to tell me at once.”
“I have had my salary raised to twelve dollars a week; just think of that, Martha: and all without my asking. I shall be able to buy ever so many nice things for papa, now, that I couldn’t afford before; and I mean to make you a present, besides, Martha; you’ve been so very kind to me.”
“Thank you for the kind thought, my dear child. I will take the will for the deed. But you mustn’t think yourself too rich. If you have any money to spare you had better be laying it up against a time of need. Remember the theatre will be closed for a time in the summer, and your salary will stop. You will want to lay up money to carry you through that time.”
“At any rate, Martha, if you won’t let me spend any money for you, I shall insist on coming in now and then and helping you with your work, so that you can gain time to walk out with me. I am afraid you work too hard. You are looking pale.”