As she turned from the principal street, a woman accosted her, and inquired the way to the Belmont House. Glad of anything that would even for a moment take her thoughts from herself, she offered to show her the way.
The darkness was so great, she had no fear of being recognized, as she walked in silence with the stranger. One thought filled her whole being, and the problem with her was, how she could escape from N—, and where should she find shelter?
“Perhaps you can tell me,” said the lady, in a clear, silvery voice, “of some young girl, or two, or three even, whom I can get to return with me to B—.”
“I am here,” she continued, “in search of help; good American help. I am so worn with foreign servants that I can endure them no longer.”
Margaret's heart gave one bound. Here was her opportunity, and she only needed the courage to offer her services.
“Perhaps you would go?” said the stranger, who looked for the first time on Margaret's face, as they stopped in the light that shone brilliantly in front of the Belmont House. “Or, maybe you do not work for a living. Excuse me, if I have made a blunder.”
“I do,” answered Margaret, “and would like to go with you if I can earn good wages.”
“I will see that you are well remunerated, provided you suit me. I shall go to-morrow, in the noon train. If I do not succeed in getting any others beside yourself, will you meet me at the station?”
Margaret replied in the affirmative, and retraced her steps, pondering upon how she should secrete herself during the intervening period.
She walked rapidly back to her home, and thought how fortunate it was that her room-mates were absent that night, and good Mrs. Crawford would never suspect that the quiet girl up stairs was planning how she could escape with her clothing. The darkness of the evening favored her, and the noise within prevented any that might be without, from being noticed.