"
"Why should you keep her, then?"
"Because one is just as good--and as bad as another. She knows my
ways, and I prefer not having to break in a new one. It is a bore
to have to say how you like everything done."
"But you are speaking now as if you meant it," said Mary, waking
up to the fact that Hesper's tone was of business, and she no
longer seemed half playing with the proposal. "_Do_ you mean
you want me to come and live with you?"
"Indeed, I do," answered Hesper, emphatically. "You shall have a
room close to my bedroom, and there you shall do as you like all
day long; and, when I want you, I dare say you will come."
"Fast enough," said Mary, cheerily, as if all was settled. In
contrast with her present surroundings, the prospect was more
than attractive. "--But would you let me have my piano?" she
asked, with sudden apprehension.
"You shall have my grand piano always when I am out, which will
be every night in the season, I dare say. That will give you
plenty of practice; and you will be able to have the best of
lessons. And think of the concerts and oratorios you will go to!"
As she spoke, the carriage drew up at the door of the shop, and
Mary took her leave. Hesper accepted her acknowledgments in the
proper style of a benefactress, and returned her good-by kindly.
But not yet did she shake hands with her.
Some of my readers may wonder that Mary should for a moment dream
of giving up what they would call her independence; for was she
not on her own ground in the shop of which she was a proprietor?
and was the change proposed, by whatever name it might be called,
anything other than _service_? But they are outside it, and
Mary was in it, and knew how little such an independence was
worth the name.
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