I
Minnie turned in at the gate, or rather, the gate posts, for there had
been no gates for years.
“I got a cold supper ready before I left,” she said. “Everything’s on
the table. Don’t wait for me, Frankie; you must be terribly tired and
hungry.”
Frances was touched.
“Minnie!” she said, “Really, you’re an angel!”
Minnie smiled indulgently.
“Silly old Frankie!” she said.
Indulgence was all that Frankie could obtain. In vain she talked of the
good she could do them, of how she would be able to help them as she got
on better, of the value of the experience to be gained in Mr. Petersen’s
office. Minnie and her grandmother persisted in regarding this work of
hers as a rather selfish frivolity; they humoured her, but they were
grieved. Frankie was made to see that Minnie had chosen the better and
the harder part, that she at least held inexorably to duty. They passed
an evening not at all pleasant. The gulf between them was becoming more
and more evident. Things were never quite the same again, after that
first day at Mr. Petersen’s.