The Sentinel. [volume] (Trenton, N.J.) 1880-1882, 1881-03-05

t1ptoe to peep over the Sill.
Where is old Miss Hooper," she
asked of a smart young woman who was
training sweet peas upon homemade
trellis.
"Miss Hooper," echoed the woman,
with start. Well, only think OF that.
Don't you know? She's been dead for
three months"
dead! Ny Aunt Jocasta,' cried
poor Essie, feeling as if all the world
were in whirl around her.
"Then you are the niece in New
York." said the stranger. "They wrote
to you but suppose the letter never
reached you. 1t was a paralytic
stroke, she only lived six hours, poor
dear! And after she was buried and the
expenses paid, there was nothing left.
Ny husband moved into the house last
month-we have three years lease
from the landlord" rather defantly
added the young woman, as if she wish
ed old Jocasto Hooper's niece fully to
understand that she, Mrs. Morris Mills,
was no usurper there.
Eyes understand know" said
Essie, feebly; but have come all the
way from New York, and I am very
tired. Might stay here tonight? ?"
"And welcome" said Mrs. Mills,
kindly. "We've house full of board
ers coming tomorrow. Mr.. Mills is &C
quainted with doctor in Boston who
recommends all his ailing patients here,
for the pine groves and mountain air,
you know and there are two young
theologians from the seminary who have
engaged the top room, and an old gen.
tleman who is wild about trout. So
we're likely to be full enough by-and-
bye. But just tonight we've plenty of
ROOM"
But while Mrs. Mills was chatting on
and the children were making merry tu-
fhult over their toys, and the birds were
singing in the woods, ESTES mind was
busy with the overcoming question,
"What am I to do? What is going to
become of me?' Aunt Jocasta had not
been much of help to her, but she was
something to cling to-and now she too
was gone.
II might sell stencil-plates," she
thought, dreamily, to herself, "or turn
book agent, or look out for place in the
wooden factories. But am not so very
strong; and am afraid / have not cour-
age and enterprise enough to make my
living as genteel peddler. Oh, dear
oh, dearl 1 don't see what I was put
into this world for
And quiet tear or two trickled down
her cheek, and dropped noiselessly into
the bowl of hot water wherewith she was
assisting Mrs. Mills to wash the supper
| dishes.
At sunset the young farmer himself
came home--a stalwart, hearty, black
bearded specimen of humanity.
"Well, Polly" he said, as he acknowl-
edged the introduction to Essie Hooper
with kindly nod, Give engaged first
class cook for you-a woman that has
had lots of experience in Newport hotels,
and wants to come up among the noun
tains for change of air but as for wait
resses and chambermaids, there wasn't
one would consent to leave the city
limits, though T offered them as high as
| two dollars week"
Mrs. Mills blooming countenance fell
visibly.
ooh, Morris, what am [ to?" she
cried. "The chamber work / might
manage myself, but the waiting! And
with twelve people coming tonight p
At this, Essie Hooper spoke up:
"Could I do it ?" said she, wistfully.
Il am in need of employment of some
kind"
"You 2" cried Mrs. Mills. but you
are lady"
"But why can't I be a waitress,
too?" said Essie. 81 must do some
thing to earn my living"
"You are darling!" said Mrs. Nor
ris Mills, with kiss. "And I do be-
ieve Providence has sent you straight
here to help me out of my dilemma. Put
on that big apron, and I'll show you
about the china-closets at once"
1t was hard work, but after ALL as Els.
sic confessed to herself, not unpleasant
Miss Earle, the Boston beauty, turned
up her Grecian nose at her, and old Mrs
Hallowell was perpetually finding fault
because Esther didn't come quickly
enough to her call, while Mr. Miggs, the
vegetarian, harangued her on the proper
preparation of salads, and Mrs. Jetsam
and her daughter treated her as if she
were the dust beneath their dainty
French-booted feet. The first-class cool
who had been imported was found sense
less beneath the washtubs one day, with
a black bottle clasped tenderlv in hel