But Miss Mitchell knew of no probable vacancy, since one young woman who had expected to be married had postponed her marriage on account of the strike in Lloyd’s, and the consequent throwing out of employment of her sweetheart.  Then, also, Miss Mitchell owned with hesitation, in response to Ellen’s insistent question, that she supposed that the fact that she had worked in a shop might in any case interfere with her obtaining a position in a school.

“There is no sense in it, dear child, I know,” she said, “but it might be so.”

“Yes, I supposed so,” replied Ellen, bitterly.  “They would all say that a shop-girl had no right to try to teach school.  Well, I’m much obliged to you, Miss Mitchell.”

“What are you going to do?” Miss Mitchell asked, anxiously, following her to the door.

“I’m going to Mrs. Doty, to get some of the wrappers that mother works on, until something else turns up,” replied Ellen.

“It seems a pity.”

Ellen smiled bravely.  “Beggars mustn’t be choosers,” she said.  “If we can only keep along, somehow, I don’t care.”

There came a vehement pound of a stick on the floor, for that was the way the old woman in the sitting-room commanded attention.  Miss Mitchell opened the door on a crack, that she might not let in the cold air.

“What is it, mother?” she said.

“You get Ellen a school right away, Fanny.”

“All right, mother; I’ll do my best.”

“Get her the grammar-school you used to have.”

“All right, mother.”

There was something about the imperative solicitude of the old woman which comforted Ellen in spite of its futility as she went on her way.  The good-will of another human soul, even when it cannot be resolved into active benefits, has undoubtedly a mighty force of its own.  Ellen, with the sweet of the cookies still lingering on her tongue, and the sweet of the old woman’s kindness in her soul, felt refreshed as if by some subtle spiritual cake and wine.  She even went to the door of Mrs. Doty’s house.  Mrs. Doty was the woman who let out wrappers to her impecunious neighbors with an undaunted heart.  She had no difficulty there.  The demand for cheap wrappers was not on the wane, even in the hard times.  When Ellen reached her grandmother’s house, with a great parcel under her arm, Mrs. Zelotes opened her side door.

“What have you got there, Ellen Brewster?” she called out sharply.

“Some wrappers,” replied Ellen, cheerfully.

“Are you going to work on wrappers?”

“Yes, grandma.”

The door was shut with a loud report.

When Ellen entered the house and the sitting-room, her mother looked up from a pink wrapper which she was finishing.

“What have you got there?” she demanded.

“Some wrappers.”

“Why, I haven’t finished the last lot.”

“These are for me to make, mother.”