"Miss Blount will do this," answered Madeleine. "If I do things well, she does them better. Now, where do you want them cleaned? Down here or up at your place?"

"Oh, I would never let them out of my studio," cried Millicent. "She must come there, where she can be under my eye."

"But----" objected Judith, and paused at a glance from Madeleine.

It would be a crushing blow to her pride for her to go back to her old rooms and rub tarnished silver for this perfectly insufferable Millicent Porter. Yet fifteen dollars loomed up as quite a considerable sum, and, with five dollars added, could be paid to the stationery man on account.

Did Judith realize in her secret soul that the bitter dose she was now swallowing was only a dose of the same medicine she had once forced others to swallow?

"Very well, then," said Madeleine, "we'll give you as much of Friday and Sat.u.r.day as will be necessary. We'll take a lunch up on Friday so that we won't have to come back for supper----"

She waited a moment, wondering if Millicent would not invite them to supper at the Beta Phi. Hospitality was so much a part of her upbringing that it was impossible to conceive it lacking in others.

"I thought Miss Blount was to do the work."

"She will. I shall work under her as a.s.sistant rubber."

So, the bargain was clinched and Millicent departed.

"Disgusting little reptile!" cried Judith when the sounds of her footsteps died away in the hall and the door banged behind her.

Could Judith forget that she herself had once belonged to that overbearing cla.s.s?

"Don't get all stirred up, Judith, it's bad for your digestion,"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Madeleine. "That girl is nothing but a mere ripple on the surface. She's ridiculous, but there's no harm in her. I am really sorry for her, because she doesn't belong anywhere. She could never make a friend, and she will never know what it is to be really liked. She thinks she's a genius because she's learned how to beat out a few tawdry silver chains, and as soon as she finishes one she locks it up in a box and takes it out about once a decade to look it over. Why, she's just a poor, starved, little creature without a spark of generosity in her soul. What does she know about living and happiness?

"You and I know how to live," Madeleine continued, flourishing her iron.

"We're in the procession. We're moving on, learning and progressing.

We're going up all the time. I tell you the highest peak in the Himalayas is not higher than my ambitions. And I intend to take you with me, Judith, and when we get to the top we'll look back and see poor, little Millicent Porter, shriveled to nothing at the bottom!"

Judith gave a strange, hysterical laugh. Suddenly she flew across the room and embraced her friend.

"You could make me do anything, Madeleine," she cried. "Scale the Himalayas or cut a tunnel through them." Taking her friend's small, charming face between her two hands, she looked her in the eyes: "Madeleine," she said, "did you know I used to be a blind girl? You have healed me. I am beginning to see things as they are."

CHAPTER XIX.

A WARNING.

The girl who had been blind and could see and Madeleine of the unconquerable soul appeared in Millicent's sumptuous apartment promptly at three o'clock on Friday afternoon.

They carried with them a suitcase containing the implements of their labor, taken chiefly from Madeleine's rag bag: some old stockings; several wornout undervests and polishing cloths made from antiquated flannel petticoats; also a bottle of ammonia and two boxes of silver polish.

"Well, here we are," announced Madeleine, unconcernedly, when Millicent had opened her door to them. "I hope you have the things out and ready.

Our time is valuable."

Of no avail were Millicent's pompous and important airs. Madeleine insisted on treating her as a familiar and an equal.

"I have put you in the den. You will be less disturbed and you can use the writing table to spread things on. Please be care----"

"Have you made an inventory?" interrupted Madeleine.

"No," faltered Millicent. Why was it that this poverty-stricken little person took all the wind out of her sails?

"Make it please at once in duplicate. Keep one yourself and give us the other."

"But----" began Millicent.

"No, we will not touch a thing until the inventory is made. No 'competent, reliable' person would think of doing work like this without an inventory. We'll wait in the other room until you have made it."

There was nothing to do but proceed with the inventory. It was plain that Madeleine knew the manner of person she was dealing with.

While the two girls waited in the big sitting room, now a studio, Madeleine drew a book from her ulster pocket and began to study. The little Southerner was never idle one moment of her waking day and the other seven hours she put in sleeping very soundly. Judith began to look about her.

The room was little changed from the old days, except that it was even richer in aspect. There were some splendid old altar pieces on the walls and a piece of beautiful old rose brocade hung between the studio and the den. But, after all, what did it come to? Was anyone really fond of Millicent with all her wealth? Why, Judith, poor and forgotten, had made a friend. She felt small tenderness toward the rest of the world, but she loved Madeleine.

Molly Brown came into the room at this stage in Judith's reflections.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, girls!" she exclaimed cordially, shaking hands with the silver-rubbers. "Where is Millicent?"

"She is making an inventory of her valuables before we begin to clean them," replied Madeleine, smiling sweetly and blinking both eyes at once. "We insisted, because it would have been unprofessional not to have had one."

"The idea!" said Molly. "No, it wouldn't. Besides, you're not professionals."

"Yes, we are," insisted Madeleine. "Everything we do for money is professional work."

"Oh, very well," laughed Molly, "and I suppose you'll polish them up so carefullee that some day you'll be admirals in the Queen's Navee."

"Nothing less," said Madeleine. "It's my theory exactly."

"Oh, Molly," called the voice of Millicent from the den, "please come and help me with this stupid thing. I can't seem to get it straight."

And that was how Molly came to be admitted into Millicent's inner sanctum where she kept her most valued possessions under lock and key.

The top of a heavy oak chest rested against the wall and inside was a perfect mine of silver articles, many of them Millicent's own work; there was also a quant.i.ty of small ivory figures collected by her in her travels.

"I'll lift out the things and call their names and you can copy each one twice, like this: one silver necklace--grape-vine design."

Molly sat down and began to make the list. They were nearly finished when Rosomond Chase's voice was heard in the next room.

"Millicent, please come out for a moment. I want to see you on business."

Molly, left alone, went on with the list, taking each article from the box and noting it carefully twice on the inventory.

In the meantime Millicent and her friend were having a secret conference in the bedroom, while Madeleine and Judith silently waited in the studio. The two silver-rubbers were presently startled by the apparition of Molly standing in the doorway. She had the look of one fleeing before a storm, her face very pale and her eyes dilated with horror. She started to speak, but checked herself and closed the door behind her.

Then, hurrying into the room, she said in a low, strained voice: