“Don’t you like it here?” were his next words, as he glanced around the luxurious suite.

“Yes,” she said, “except there are too many people.  It is so noisy.”

“Very well, then, we will try it; anything to please my darling,” and he drew her close, wrapped in his arms as one might lull a restless child.

The move was made, and Eleanor found that she was not as much fatigued as she had often felt after a day’s lounging with a novel.  Her husband thought it only a new whim; but as it was not expensive one, he could not remonstrate.  When he wanted to take her driving, she playfully told him she was learning to walk—­horses made her nervous.

The first step, she thought; now for the next.  It came to her almost by magic.  In a little rear hall-room sat Margaret Dewees, clicking away at her typewriter.  A strong, clear-headed girl who had maintained herself these ten years, and had put by her savings.  She was soon to be married to a stalwart young farmer, the lover of her early youth.  They had been working and waiting.  From the first she took an interest in the young wife, and it was given to her energy and common sense to help a suffering sister.  Together they plotted and planned.  Eleanor’s lassitude gradually passed away under vigorous rubbing and brisk walks.

Margaret’s trousseau was a thing to be considered.  From Mrs. Woodruff’s surplus stock of stylish gowns and garments the country girl’s outfit was deftly concocted.  The young wife could sew neatly and rapidly.  When all was ready the sum of two hundred dollars lay in her writing desk.  Her grand piano, too large for the new quarters, was removed from storage to a dealer’s, and was sold for three hundred more.  She wrote at once to an uncle in a Western city; told him of her little efforts, and asked what she might do with her mite.  He was a real estate man and promptly invested it in a lot in the rising town of Duluth.

In exchange for her services as seamstress, Margaret taught Eleanor the use of the typewriter.  When she was married she left the instrument, for the summer months, in Eleanor’s care.  A nominal rent was agreed upon, and this was easy to pay, as Margaret’s engagements were transferred to the new operator, while she, herself, attended to chickens and cows, and her six feet of husband.

Eleanor’s spirit of enterprise did not stop here.  She obtained pupils on the type-writer machine at five dollars each.  She shipped a lot of old party dresses, crushed and out of style, to the costumer’s on B——­ street, and saved the proceeds.  Every time her husband handed over her allowance of pin money, she put at least half of it in her “strong box.”

It was hard to hide all this activity and cheerfulness from him, but she did.  With her woman’s enjoyment of a little mystery, and her high resolve to show herself worthy of him, she kept in the old rut as nearly as possible when he was at home.  He saw only that she was stronger, and it lightened his labors.