"Why, Hertha," Ellen said in surprise, "I didn't know you had any bent that way."
"I haven't, but I believe I should like it. Stenographers work in offices, and have short hours and good wages."
"Not colored ones. Oh, I forgot." Ellen lost her composure, and to cover her slip went into the kitchen.
There was a knock and Mammy went outside to admit Mr. John Merryvale. He at once entered the room and seeing Hertha walked up to her and took her hand. "My dear," he said, "we have done you a great injustice."
"Yes?" Hertha said, questioning.
She was angry at his coming, but his kindly manner made it difficult for her to maintain her anger. He crossed over to where her mammy stood, saying gravely: "Aunt Maggie, it seems like you were the only one who did the right thing in all this tangle. You and your husband opened your hearts and brought up this forsaken child. You surely deserve your reward."
"I don' want no reward," the colored woman replied. "I had my reward ebery day dis chile lib. Wat you t'ink a lil' bread an' a shelterin' roof mean to yer when yer hab a lily like dis by you' side? An' oh, how is I eber ter git on wid her away?"
"I haven't gone yet, Mammy," Hertha said with an attempt at a laugh. "I'm right here."
"No, but I can't keep you no longer; you's crossed de line when you is Miss Hertha Ogilvie. You's gone across."
"Well, I'm Hertha Williams just at present, and I'm going to see how Ellen's sweet potatoes are getting on," and she left the room.