“At least you will regard me as your stanch friend,” he said, “and promise me, Mona, that if you ever get into any difficulty you will appeal to me; that if you should find that you have undertaken more than your strength will allow you to carry out you will make my home your refuge.”

“Yes, I will,” she said, tears of gratitude starting to her lovely eyes, “and I am greatly comforted to know that I have one such true friend in my trouble.”

“What is the name of the family into which you are going?” her companion inquired.

“I do not know, and it is a little singular that I do not,” Mona replied, smiling.  “I applied at an employment bureau for a situation a few days ago; yesterday I went to ascertain if there was a place for me and was told that a lady living on West Forty-ninth street wanted a seamstress, and I am to meet her at the office this afternoon.  I, of course, asked the name, but the clerk could not tell me—­she had lost the lady’s card, and could only remember the street and number.”

“Rather a careless way of doing business,” the lawyer remarked, as he arose to go.  “However,” he added, “let me know how you succeed after you get settled, and if anything should occur to throw you out of your place, come straight to us, and make our home headquarters while you are looking out for another.”

Mona’s self-possession almost forsook her as she took leave of him.  It seemed almost like losing her only friend, to let him go; but she bade him good-by with as brave a front as possible, though she broke down utterly the moment the door closed after him.

The remainder of the day was spent in packing her trunk and looking her last upon the familiar objects of the home that had always been so dear to her.

But her severest trial came when she had to bid the housekeeper and the servants farewell, for the loved and loving girl had been a great favorite with them all, and their grief was as deep and sincere at parting with her.

This over, she stepped across the threshold of Walter Dinsmore’s elegant home for the last time, and entered the carriage that was to bear her away, her heart nearly bursting with grief, and tears streaming in torrents over her cheeks.

CHAPTER IX.

MONA RECEIVES A SHOCK.

When Mona arrived at the office of the employment bureau, at the hour appointed, she found awaiting her the carriage belonging to the woman who had engaged her services.

A pretty serving girl admitted her when she arrived at the elegant brown stone mansion, and remarked, as she showed her up to the room she was to occupy, that “the mistress had been called out of town for the day, and would not be at home until dinner time.”

The girl seemed kindly disposed, and chatted socially about the family, which consisted only of “the mistress and her nephew, Master Louis.”  The mistress was a widow, but very gay—­very much of a society lady, and “handsome as a picture,” She was upward of forty, but didn’t look a day over thirty.  She was very proud and high spirited, but treated her help kindly if they didn’t cross her.