“You will!” cried Ruth in a tone of rapture.  “Oh, Charlotte, you’re a darling, and I’ll do as much for you some day.”

“I feel as though I’d been in a hold-up,” murmured Charlotte, as Ruth released her after another violent squeeze, and went to her desk.

“I don’t wonder,” laughed Ruth coming back with an envelope in her hand.  “Now, Charlotte, I don’t want to hurry you, but your hour is up, and I think you’d better go.  I have a premonition that the twins have fallen into something or other.”

Charlotte rose lazily and held out her arms for the coat which Ruth was holding and into the pocket of which she had slipped the envelope.  “You’re a sly thing,” she said.  “You’re afraid if I stay I’ll go back on my bargain.”

“Never,” laughed Ruth.  “You’re not that kind.  Can’t you go into Boston with me to-morrow and do some shopping?  It will be almost the last chance before Christmas.”

“Why, yes.  I think so.  I’m almost sure I can.”  Charlotte started to go, but turned and gripped Ruth’s hand.  “You’re a trump, Ruth, and you’ve helped me lots,” she said with an effort, “but I must say I don’t feel quite right about taking that money.”

“Oh, but I do.  I shall enjoy it more than any other present I’m giving.  We’ll have a great time to-morrow spending it.”

Once out of the house Charlotte couldn’t resist the temptation to take a peep at the contents of the envelope.  As she caught a glimpse of a crisp five dollar bill her first impulse was to go immediately and make Ruth take it back.  She half turned, and waited irresolutely until the cold sting of the rain forced her to realize that the middle of the street was no place for deciding a weighty question.  Then she went slowly toward home, uncomfortable because she had taken the money, happy because of the affection and sympathy Ruth had shown her.

At home a more cheerful atmosphere reigned, and Charlotte felt her spirits rise as she walked into the up-stairs sitting-room where the children were.  “You’re an angel of peace, Cousin Josie,” said Charlotte gratefully.  “I’ll try to keep them happy until bedtime, though I’m no such genius at it as you are.”

Charlotte felt so cheered and comforted that she thought of poor Melina, whose sorrows she had not yet investigated, and turned toward the kitchen.  Melina was one of those rare maids-of-all-work whose services cannot be estimated, nor can they be paid for in mere money.  Coming into the family when Charlotte was a small child, she had taken each successive baby into her heart, and had worked for them all as faithfully and lovingly as if they belonged to her.

As she walked into the room she was startled to find Melina rocking hard with her apron thrown over her face and audible sniffs going on behind it.  The chair was making such a noise that at first she didn’t hear Charlotte, and the latter had time to wonder whether it wouldn’t be better to steal away softly and come in later.  She knew she should hate to be found crying and she supposed Melina would.  Before she could decide Melina threw down the apron and jumped up.