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He kissed the tips of her fingers, and she retired to change her ball-dress for a travelling habit. When she had closed the door, the expression of Count Schulenberg's face was not quite the same. "The fierce countess is about to be tamed," thought he. "I shall win my bet, and humble this insolent beauty.
She was a free-lance typewriter and canvassed for odd jobs of copying. The most brilliant and crowning feat of Sarah's battle with the world was the deal she made with Schulenberg's Home Restaurant. The restaurant was next door to the old red brick in which she ball-roomed.
One afternoon Sarah shivered in her elegant hall bedroom; "house heated; scrupulously clean; conveniences; seen to be appreciated." She had no work to do except Schulenberg's menu cards. Sarah sat in her squeaky willow rocker, and looked out the window. The calendar on the wall kept crying to her: "Springtime is here, Sarah springtime is here, I tell you. Look at me, Sarah, my figures show it.
With that appetite for sympathy which the first dash of sorrow is pretty sure to bring, the young man felt an impulse to accost the person who had thought enough of his sister's sufferings to give her a wheel-chair. "Mr. Millard!" "Oh, yes; you are Wilhelmina Schulenberg's brother," scrutinizing the young man. "And how is your sister now?" Rudolph shook his head gloomily.
In return for this Schulenberg was to send three meals per diem to Sarah's hall room by a waiter an obsequious one if possible and furnish her each afternoon with a pencil draft of what Fate had in store for Schulenberg's customers on the morrow. Mutual satisfaction resulted from the agreement.
Schulenberg's speech gave way to tears and a despairing shaking of the head from side to side. Phillida entered, and found Mina bolstered in her chair, flushed with fever and gasping for breath. The sudden change in her appearance was appalling. "I thought if you would come, nothing would seem too hard for your prayers.
A waiter had brought the rough pencil draft of the Home Restaurant's next day fare in old Schulenberg's angular hand. Sarah sat down to her typewriter and slipped a card between the rollers. She was a nimble worker. Generally in an hour and a half the twenty-one menu cards were written and ready. To-day there were more changes on the bill of fare than usual.
Schulenberg's patrons now knew what the food they ate was called even if its nature sometimes puzzled them. And Sarah had food during a cold, dull winter, which was the main thing with her. And then the almanac lied, and said that spring had come. Spring comes when it comes. The frozen snows of January still lay like adamant in the crosstown streets.
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