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Here was an Emmeline he did not know, an Emmeline with lips set and a deep furrow between her eyes, with shoulders resolutely squared and arms akimbo.

Determination was large upon her. Even her well-starched apron crackled defiantly.

"If you please, sir, I've come to give notice."

She was respectful but firm.

To find the enemy heaving solid shot across his bows without any preliminaries threw the Busy Man into helpless confusion.

He tried a mild joke upon her. It fell feebly away from her majestic dignity.

"Of course I'll not go before Madam comes home," she explained. "I wouldn't leave her in a fix that way - and her sick; but she'll be coming along right soon now, and I'm giving notice so you can get somebody else in soon's she's home and settled."

The Busy Man put down his paper and stared at the disturber of his peace in consternation.

"But you mustn't go that way, Emmeline. Mrs. Randolph wouldn't know what to do - she mustn't be worried - I really don't see why, what in the deuce is the matter, anyway?"

Even as he spoke a sense of guilt sent the blood to his face and he cast a furtive look at the clock.

"Yes, sir," said Emmeline, following his eyes. "I can't stay where I can't have my evenings."

He recognized a last word when he met one. last word.

This was a

"Well, of course, I was a little late this evening. A man dropped in and delayed me, but that was an accident. It doesn't happen often, I

"You've been late every night this week.”

"Oh, not every night."

"Yes, sir. I didn't get to church, and I didn't get to my lodge, and I missed a party I was going to and had a new

blue dress for, and I can't stand it. I wouldn't mind missing an evening once in a while but I can't get along this way anyhow, so I'd better go."

Now here was a Heaven-sent chance to demonstrate his capacity for handling labor crises and employees.

The Busy Man realized his opportunity; but, some way or other, his system did not seem to fit the case. He had never had an office boy just like Emmeline. Office boys did not deliver last words. They did not put their hands on their hips and calmly propose shattering the peace and comfort of a home.

Of course the thing to do was to carry out the program he had so often outlined for his wife to say: "You may go at once; here is your money," and close the interview with a majestic wave of the hand; but he had a sudden vision of the Little Woman's face when she would hear that Emmeline was going, and his heart sank within him.

The Scotts had had six cooks since Christmas. One stole Mrs. Scott's silk stockings, and one had ten callers in a single evening, and one gave paregoric to the baby.

And the Wilsons-well, Wilson had been obliged to take most of his meals at the club all winter because they couldn't get a servant who could boil water without a recipe.

And Courtney never dared take a friend home to dinner unexpectedly and then the Little Woman was still so white and weak. She wouldn't be strong for a long time yet, and every little thing would worry her. Why, she cried now at the drop of a hat.

"I don't think you ought to leave this way, Emmeline," he said, with an heroic effort to be calmly judicial. “Mrs. Randolph will come home far from well, and she won't feel equal to training a new maid. I should think you'd have some consideration for her."

Emmeline looked at him without the slightest symptom of relenting. She had this helpless man creature where she wanted him and she realized that this was the time for a

demonstration that would make her pathway smoother in the future.

"I've got nothing against her. She's always treated me well. Many a time I'd 'a' left if she hadn't been so nice; but I'm a working woman, and I've got to think about myself."

The Busy Man quite lost hold upon the curt dismissal and the majestic hand wave and cast about him for a life preserver. The idea common to all men that the blackest of grievances can be settled on a money basis came to his rescue, and he said weakly:

"If your wages aren't satisfactory, Emmeline

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A gleam of inspiration lighted the gloomy eyes. "Well, I'd ought to have thirty dollars anywhere." "That will be all right. I'll raise your wages to thirty." "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. But I've got to have my evenings; you can't get home at seven, and so I'm sorry, but I'll have to go."

He looked at her helplessly. She was so big, so unyielding, so competent, so essential.

A sudden appreciation of the Little Woman's trials and of her surpassing diplomatic skill flooded his brain. After all, women knew how to cope with domestic problems. For a moment he hesitated, ashamed to strike his colors, afraid to flaunt them. Then he surrendered unconditionally.

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"I guess I can arrange about the dinner hour, Emmeline. You can count on my being here at seven.' "Yes, sir. That'll be all right. Thank you kindly for the raise, sir."

She swept out of the room like a ship under full sail; but in the kitchen she gave way to subdued chuckles.

"Haven't I always said she was too easy with him?" she said gaily to the tea kettle. "You've sure got to be masterful with the men and that five a month was just velvet just silk velvet. I never would 'a' thought of it."

- Adapted.

4. THE SOLITARY REAPER

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

In the first stanza Wordsworth asks the reader to "behold" and to "listen." He wants you to see the reaper and to hear her song.

The Singer. Behold her, single in the field,

Her Skill.

Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;

Stop here, or gently pass!
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt

More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travelers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands;

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard,
In spring-time from the cuckoo bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

The Theme. Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

And battles long ago:

Or is it come more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

The Effect. Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her work could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless, and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

CLASS ACTIVITIES

I. What does each stanza tell about the girl, her work, and her song?

2. Why did it make so little difference what she sang? If one sings a sad song, while at his work, is he necessarily sad? Explain. Tell about some one who is always singing a mournful song. 3. Compare this poem with Longfellow's "The Arrow and the Song." Point out resemblance in meaning.

4. Find pictures which give the impression of joy or pleasure in work. Find Breton's "The Song of the Lark.”

5. Read Thomas Carlyle's “The Man Who Sings."

"Give me, oh give me

The man who sings at his work."

6. Volunteer work. Make a section in your note book called: "Pictures showing the joy of work." Get your pictures from advertisements.

5. A SONG FROM THE SUDS

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam rises high;
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;

Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.

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