WINNIE CHILDS

THE SHOP GIRL

BY

C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Made in the United States of America

1914, 1916, by C. N. & A. M. WILLIAMSON

CONTENTS

Chapter

I. THE DRYAD DOOR

II. BALM OF GILEAD

III. AN ILL WIND

IV. THE KINDNESS OF MISS ROLLS

V. SCENES FOR A "MOVIE"

VI. THE HANDS WITH THE RINGS

VII. THE TWO PETERS

VIII. No. 2884

IX. THE TEST OF CHARACTER

X. PETER ROLLS'S LITTLE WAYS

XI. DEVIL TAKE THE HINDMOST

XII. BLUE PETER

XIII. ONE MAN AND ANOTHER

XIV. FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS

XV. THE LADY IN THE MOON

XVI. THE SEED ENA PLANTED

XVII. TOYLAND

XVIII. THE BIG BLUFF

XIX. "YES" TO ANYTHING

XX. THE CLOSED HOUSE

XXI. THE TELEPHONE

XXII. THE FRAGRANCE OF FRESIAS

XXIII. MOTHER

XXIV. THINGS EXPLODING

XXV. A PIECE OF HER MIND

XXVI. WHEN THE SECRET CAME OUT

XXVII. THE BATTLE

THE SHOP GIRL

THE SHOP GIRL

CHAPTER I

THE DRYAD DOOR

It was a horrible day at sea, horrible even on board the new andsplendid _Monarchic_. All the prettiest people had disappeared fromthe huge dining-saloon. They had turned green, and then faded away, one by one or in hurried groups; and now the very thought of music atmeals made them sick, in ragtime. 

Peter Rolls was never sick in any time or in any weather, which washis one disagreeable, superior-to-others trick. Most of his qualitieswere likable, and he was likable, though a queer fellow in some ways, said his best friends--the ones who called him "Petro. " When the shipplayed that she was a hobby-horse or a crab (if that is the creaturewhich shares with elderly Germans a specialty for walking from side toside), also a kangaroo, and occasionally a boomerang, Peter Rolls didnot mind. 

He was sorry for the men and girls he knew, including his sister, wholay in deck chairs pretending to be rugs, or who went to bed andwished themselves in their peaceful graves. But for himself, the wildturmoil of the waves filled him with sympathetic restlessness. It hadnever occurred to Peter that he was imaginative, yet he seemed toknow what the white-faced storm was saying, and to want to shout ananswer. 

The second morning out (the morning after the _Monarchic_ had to passQueenstown without taking on the mails or putting off enragedpassengers) Peter thought he would go to the gymnasium and work up anappetite for luncheon. He had looked in the first day, and had seen athing which could give you all the sensations and benefits of a camelride across the desert. He had ridden camels in real deserts and likedthem. Now he did not see why waves should not answer just as well asdunes, and was looking forward to the experiment; but he must havebeen absent-minded, for when he opened what ought to have been thegymnasium door, it was not the gymnasium door. It was--goodheavens!--_what_ was it?

Peter Rolls, the unimaginative young man, thought that he must be inhis berth and dreaming he was here. For this room that he was lookinginto could not possibly be a room on a ship, not even on the_Monarchic_, that had all the latest, day-after-to-morrow improvementsand luxuries. The very bread was to-morrow's bread; but thesemarvellous creatures could not be supplied by the management asimprovements or luxuries of any kind. Peter seemed to have opened adoor into a crystal-walled world peopled entirely by dryads. 

He thought of dryads, because in pictures, beings called by that namewere taller, slimmer, more graceful, more beautiful, and had longerlegs than young females of mortal breed. There were five of them (atleast he believed there were five), and though it was eleven o'clockin the morning, they were dressed as if for the prince's ball in thestory of "Cinderella. " Unless on the stage, Peter had never seen suchdresses or such girls. 

He heard himself gasp; and afterward, when he and a wave together hadbanged the door shut, he hoped that he had said: "I beg your pardon. "He was so confused, however, that he was not at all sure he had notblurted out "Good Lord!"

For a moment he stood as still as the sea would let him in front ofthe door, burning to open it again and see if the girls were reallythere. But, of course, he could not do that. He would have been almostinclined to believe they were wax figures if they had not moved, butthey had moved. 

They had been--sprawling is not a word to use in connection withdryads--yet certainly reclining, in easy chairs and on sofas, and hadstarted up as the door opened to stare at him. One had laughed. Peterhad shut the door on her laugh. He had brought away a vague impressionthat chairs, sofas, and carpet were pale gray, and that the dryads'dresses of wonderful tints, sparkling with gold and silver and jewels, had been brilliant as tropical flowers against the neutral background. Also, when he came to think of it, he wasn't sure that the walls werenot mostly made of mirrors. That was why he could not be certainwhether he had seen five dryads or five times five. 

"The dryad door, " he apostrophized it romantically, keeping hisbalance by standing with his feet apart, as old men stand before afire. It was a very ordinary-looking door, and that made the romancefor Peter in giving it such a name--just a white-painted door, so newthat it smelled slightly of varnish--yet behind it lay dreamland. 

Of course Peter Rolls knew that the tall, incredibly lovely beingswere not dryads and not dreams, although they wore low necks, andpearls and diamonds in their wonderful, waved hair, at eleven o'clockof a stormy morning on board an Atlantic liner. Still, he was blessedif he could think what they were, and what they were doing in thatroom of mirrors without any furniture which he could recall, except avery large screen, a few chairs, and a sofa or two. 

The next best thing to the forbidden one--opening the door again toask the beings point-blank whether they were pipe dreams or justmermaids--was to go on to the gymnasium and inquire there. Toward thisend young Mr. Rolls (as he was respectfully called in a business housenever mentioned by his sister) immediately took steps. But takingsteps was as far as he got. Suddenly it seemed a deed you could notdo, to demand of an imitation-camel's attendant why five young ladieswore evening dress in the morning in a room three doors away. 

After all, why should a camel attendant dare to know anything aboutthem? Perhaps they were merely amusing themselves and each other bytrying on all their gladdest clothes. There might be girls who wouldthink this a good way to kill time in a storm. Yes, conceivably theremight be such girls, just as there might be sea serpents; but, thoughPeter Rolls was too shy to have learned much about the female of hisspecies, the explanation did not appeal to his reason. 

His mind would persist in making a mystery of the mirror-walled roomwith its five dazzling occupants, and even the bumpings of theimitation camel could not jerk out of his head speculations whichplayed around the dryad door. He was as curious as _Fatima_ herself, and with somewhat the same curiosity; for, except that in one case thebeautiful ladies had their heads, and in the other had lost them, there was a hint of resemblance between the two mysteries. 

Peter Rolls wondered whether he would like to ask his sister Ena ifshe knew the visions, or even if, being a woman, she could form anytheory to account for them. It would be interesting to see what shewould say; but then, unless she were too seasick, she would probablylaugh, and perhaps tell Lord Raygan. 

As for the visions themselves, only one had spirit enough left in herto be able to laugh at being thought a dryad or a mystery. She aloneof the five would have known what "dryad" means. And she could alwayslaugh, no matter how miserable or how sick she was. 

That day she was very sick indeed. They were all very sick, but shecould not help seeing, at her worst, that it was funny. 

"For heaven's sake, what are you giggling at?" snapped the longest, slimmest, most abnormal dryad, diaphanously draped in yellow, when shecould gasp out an intelligible sentence after an exhausting bout ofagony. 

"Us, " said the girl who could always laugh, a vision in silver. 

"Us? I don't see anything funny about us!" groaned a tall dream incrimson and purple. 

"Funny! I should think not!" snorted a fantasy in emerald. 

"It makes me worse to hear you laugh, " squealed a radiance in rose. 

"I wish we were all dead, _especially_ Miss Child, " snarled the lastof the five, a symphony in black and all conceivable shades of blue. Because of this combination, the Miss Child in question had named herthe "Bruise. "

"Sorry! I'll try not to laugh again till the sea goes down, " MissChild apologized. "I wasn't laughing at any of _you_ exactly, it wasmore the whole situation: us, dressed like stars of the Russian balletand sick as dogs, pearls in our hair and basins in our hands, lookinglike queens and feeling like dolls with our stuffing gone. "

"Don't speak of stuffing. It makes me think of sage and onions, "quavered the tallest queen. 

"Ugh!" they all groaned, except Winifred Child, who was to blame forstarting the subject. "Ugh! Oh! Ugh!"

When they were better they lay back on their sofas, or leaned back intheir chairs, their beautiful--or meant to be beautiful--faces pale, their eyes shut. And it was at this moment that Peter Rolls burst openthe door. 

As he had observed, the waxlike figures moved, sat upright, andstared. This sudden disturbance of brain balance made them all giddy, but the surprise of seeing a man, not a steward, at the door, was sogreat that for a moment or two it acted as a tonic. Nothing dreadfulhappened to any one of the five until after the smooth black head hadbeen withdrawn and the door closed. 

"A man!" breathed Miss Devereux, the abnormally tall girl in yellowchiffon over gold gauze. 

"Yes, dear. I wonder what he wanted?" sighed Miss Carroll, the girl inrose. 

The one in green was Miss Tyndale, the one in black and blue MissVedrine, all very becoming labels; and if they had Christian names ofequal distinction to match, the alien known at home simply as "Win"had never heard them. They called each other Miss Devereux, MissCarroll, Miss Tyndale, and Miss Vedrine, or else "dear. "

"I wish we could think he wanted to see us!" remarked Miss Tyndale. 

"I hope he didn't notice the basins, " added Miss Vedrine

"I think we hid them with our trains, " said Miss Carroll. 

"Was he nice looking?" Miss Vedrine had courage to ask. She hadwonderful red hair, only a little darker at the roots, and long, straight black eyelashes. A few of these had come off on her cheeks, but they were not noticeable at a distance. 

"I don't know, I'm sure, dear, " replied Miss Devereux, a fawn-eyedbrunette, who was nearest the door. "There wasn't time to see. I justthought: 'Good heavens! have we got to parade?' Then, 'No, thankgoodness, it's a man!' And he was gone. "

"What should we do if a woman did come, and we had to get up?"wondered Miss Vedrine, whose great specialty was her profile andlength of white throat. 

"She wouldn't be a woman; she'd be a monster, to care about clothes inweather like this, " pronounced the golden-haired Miss Carroll. "Paradeindeed! I _wouldn't_. I'd simply lie down and expire. "

"I feel I've never till now sympathized enough with the animals in theark, " said Miss Child, who had not chosen her own name, or else hadshown little taste in selection, compared with the others. But shewas somehow different, rather subtly different, from them in all ways;not so elaborately refined, not so abnormally tall, not so startlinglypicturesque. "One always thinks of the ark animals in a procession, poor dears--showing off their fur or their stripes or their spots orsomething--just like us. "

"Speak for yourself, if you talk about spots, please, " said MissDevereux, who never addressed Miss Child as "dear, " nor did theothers. 

"I was thinking of leopards, " explained the fifth dryad. "They'reamong the few things you _can_ think of without being sick. "

"I can't, " said Miss Devereux, and was. They all were, and somehowMiss Child seemed to be the one to blame. 

"We were just getting better!" wailed Miss Vedrine. 

"It was only a momentary excitement that cheered us, " suggestedWinifred Child. 

"What excitement?" they all wanted indignantly to know. 

"That man looking in. "

"Do you call that an excitement? Where have you lived?"

"Well, a surprise, then. But _would_ we have been better if it hadbeen madame who looked in?"

The picture called up by this question was so appalling that theyshuddered and forgot their little grudge against Miss Child, who wasnot so bad when you were feeling well, except that she had odd ways oflooking at things, and laughed when nobody else could see anything tolaugh at. 

"Thank heaven, she's a bad sailor!" Miss Devereux cried. 

"Thank heaven, all the other women on board are bad sailors, " addedWin. 

"If madame was well she'd think _we_ ought to be, " said Miss Carroll. "She'd dock our pay every time we--- Oh, _this_ is bad enough, but ifshe was well it would be a million times worse!"

"Could anything be worse?" Miss Tyndale pitifully questioned, for justthen the ship was sliding down the side of a wave as big as amillionaire's house. 

"Yes, it would be worse if we were wearing our waists slender thisyear, " said Win. 

"Down, down, wallow, wallow, jump!" was the program the _Monarchic_carried out for the twentieth time in half as many minutes. Slenderwaists! Oh, horrible to think of, unless you broke in two and deathended your troubles!

"Let's try breathing _in_ as she goes up and _out_ as she goes down. I've heard that works wonderfully, " said Win. 

They tried, but it worked disappointingly that time. Perhaps it wasthe ship's fault. It was impossible to time her antics with the mostcareful breathing. 

"Oh, why did we leave our peaceful homes?" moaned Miss Vedrine. 

"I didn't, " whispered Win. 

"Didn't what?"

"Leave my peaceful home. If I'd had one I shouldn't be here. "

This was the first time she had volunteered or had had dragged out ofher a word concerning her past. But at the moment no one could bekeyed to interest in anything except preparation for the next wave. 

In the veranda cafe Peter Rolls was asking his sister Ena if she knewanything about five incredibly beautiful girls in evening dress shutup together in a room with walls made of mirrors. 

Ena Rolls was not in a mood to answer irrelevant questions, especiallyfrom a brother; but Lord Raygan and his sister were there, and prickedup their ears at the hint of a mystery. She could not be cross and askPeter kindly to go to the devil and not talk rot, as she would havedone if the others had been somewhere else. But then, were it not forLord Raygan and his sister and mother, Miss Rolls would be flat in herberth. 

"Five incredibly beautiful girls in evening dress!" repeated LordRaygan, who, like Peter, was a good sailor. 

Ena Rolls wanted him to be interested in her, and not in fivepreposterous persons in evening dress, so she replied promptly toPeter's question: "I suppose they must be Nadine's living models. Weall had cards about their being on board and the hours of their paradeto show the latest fashions. You saw the card, I suppose, LadyEileen?"

"Yes, " returned Lord Raygan's flapper sister. "It's on thewriting-desk in that darling sitting-room you've given Mubs and me. "

Ena felt rewarded for her sacrifice. She and Peter had engaged thebest suite on board the _Monarchic_, but when Lord Raygan and hismother and sister were borne past Queenstown in most unworthy cabins(two very small ones between the three), Ena had given up her own andPeter's room to the two ladies. It was a Providential chance to maketheir acquaintance and win their gratitude. (She had met Raygan inEgypt and London, and sailed on the _Monarchic_ in consequence. )

"The stewardess told me before I moved down, " she went on, "that Mme. Nadine had taken the ship's nursery this trip for her show, and fittedit with wardrobes and mirror doors at immense expense. I'm afraid shewon't get her money back if this storm lasts. Who could gaze at livingmodels?"

"I could, if they're as beautiful as your brother says, " replied LordRaygan, a tall, lanky, red-headed Irishman with humorous eyes and aheavy jaw. He was the first earl Ena had ever met, but she prayedfervently that he might not be the last. 

Peter somehow did not want those pale dryads sacrificed to make aRaygan holiday. He regretted having remarked on their beauty. "Theylooked more like dying than living models when I saw them, " he said. 

"Let's go and see what they look like now, " suggested Raygan. "Eh, what, Miss Rolls?"

"I don't know if men _can_ go, " she hesitated. 

"Who's to stop them? Why shouldn't I be wanting to buy one of thedresses off their backs for my sister?"

"What a _melting_ idea! You do, don't you, dear boy?" the flapperencouraged him. 

"I might. Come along, Miss Rolls. Come along, Eily. What about you, Rolls? Will you guide us?"

"Let's wait till after lunch, " said Ena. She hoped that it mightdisagree with everybody, and then they would not want to go. 

"Oh, no!" pleaded Lady Eileen O'Neill. "We may be dead after luncheon, and probably will be. Or Rags'll change his mind about the dress. Nadine's dresses are too heavenly. I've never seen any except on thestage, worn by wonderful, thin giantesses. All her gowns are named, you know, Rags: 'Dawn, ' or 'Sunset, ' or 'Love in Spring, ' or 'Passionin Twilight, ' and poetic things like that. "

"Can't be very poetic bein' sick in 'em, by Jove! for those girls inthe nursery, " remarked Rags, "especially if they've got a sense ofhumour. "

(One of them had. The shimmering sheath of silver and chiffon she woreto-day, as it happened, rejoiced in the name of "First Love. " It wasall white. She was being very careful of its virginal purity; but itoccurred to her that unless the sea's passion died, the frock wouldsoon have to be renamed "Second Love, " or even "Slighted Affection, "if not "Rejected Addresses. ")

Urged by Eileen, who would think her a "pig" if she refused, Enareluctantly uncurled herself from a safe and graceful position on acushioned sofa. The result was alarming. Her swimming head warned herthat if she did not instantly sit down again something too awful tothink of in the presence of an earl would happen. 

"You'd better go without me. I'm not very keen, " she faintlyexplained, appealing to Peter with her eyes. 

He contrived to understand without asking stupid questions, as somebrothers would, and hurried the others off to the room of the mirrors. No longer was it a room of mystery; yet romance, once awakened, cannotbe put to sleep in a minute, and Peter Rolls's heart beat withexcitement or shyness, he was not sure which, as Lady Eileen O'Neillknocked at the dryad door. 

CHAPTER II

BALM OF GILEAD

It was the worst possible moment for the dryads. But when theirtear-wet eyes beheld a girl and two men, some deep-down primordialpride of womanhood rushed to their rescue and, flowing through theirveins, performed a miracle beyond the power of any patent remedy. Thefive forlorn girls became at need the five stately goddesses Mme. Nadine paid them to be. (Winifred Child, by the way, was not paid, forshe was not a goddess by profession. But she got her passage free. Itwas for that she was goddessing. )

Miss Devereux was the leader, by virtue, not of extra age, no indeed!but of height, manner, and experience. She apologized, with the mostrefined accent, for Mme. Nadine, who was "quite prostrated"; for Mme. Nadine's manageress, who was even worse; and for themselves. "I'mafraid we must do the best we can alone, " she finished withunconscious pathos. 

"It's a shame to disturb you, " said Peter Rolls. 

Miss Devereux and her attendant dryads turned their eyes to him. Theyhad fancied that he was the man who had burst in before and burst outagain; now they were sure. If he had been a woman, they would haveborne him a grudge for coming back and bringing companions worse thanhimself; but as he was a man, young, and not bad looking, they forgavehim meekly. 

They forgave the other man for the same reason, and forgave the girlbecause she was with the men. If only they could behave themselves asyoung ladies should through this ordeal! That was the effort on whichthey must concentrate their minds and other organs. 

"Not at all, " returned Miss Devereux, every inch a princess. "We are_here_ to be disturbed. " (Alas, how true!)

She smiled at Lady Eileen, but not patronizingly, because a mysteriousinstinct told her that the plain, pleasant young girl in Irish tweedwas a "swell. " The men, too, were swells, or important in some way orother. One exerted one's self to be charming to such people and tokeep the male members of the party from looking at the other girls. "Would you like to see something else, different from what we areshowing? Evening cloaks? Day dresses? We have a number of smart littleafternoon frocks---"

"I think that white dress is the _meltingest_ thing I ever saw, " saidLady Eileen, who had walked into the room without waiting for MissDevereux's answer to Peter Rolls's objection. 

She was a kind-hearted girl, but, after all, living models were livingmodels until they were dead, and she wasn't going to lose the chanceof getting a dreamy frock out of Rags! All the goddesses were on theirmettle and their feet now, though swaying like tall lilies in a highwind and occasionally bracing themselves against mirrors, while LadyEileen was in the biggest chair, with Raygan and Peter Rolls standingbehind her. The men also were offered chairs by Miss Vedrine with alovely play of eyelashes, but refused them: the chairs, not theeyelashes, which no man could have spurned, despite their scatteredeffect. 

"The white dress, _moddam?"_ (It thrills a flapper to be called"_moddam_. ") "It is one of the latest designs and considered perfectfor a débutante. No doubt you know it is Mme. Nadine's custom to nameher inspirations. Come here, if you please, Miss Child! This is 'FirstLove. '"

"Looks like it, " remarked Lord Raygan, as Miss Child obeyed. He mighthave meant the wearer or the dress. Peter Rolls flashed a gimletglance his way to see which. He felt uncomfortably responsible for themanners of the visitors and the feelings of the visited. But the faceof Rags was grave, and no offence could be taken. Peter Rolls withdrewthe glance, though not before Winifred Child had it intercepted andinterpreted. 

"I believe he's a nice fellow, " was the thought that slid through hermind as, like a chicken on a spit, she turned and turned to let LadyEileen behold "First Love" from every point of view. 

"Rippin', but a foot too tall for you, " said Rags, more because itamused him to prolong the scene than through a real desire tocriticise. "_You_ don't go in for bein' a sylph. "

Another backhanded compliment for the wearer, if she cared to acceptit; but she was beautifully unconscious and, for once, not laughing. Her eyes looked miles away. Peter Rolls wondered to what land she hadgone. 

The girl appeared to be gazing over his head; but, as a matter offact, she could see him perfectly. He had black hair and blue eyes, shrewd perhaps, yet they might be kind and merry; just now they lookedworried. She thought him not handsome, but tanned and thin (shedetested fat men) and somehow nice. Win wondered if she were tallerthan he. She hated being taller than men, though she owed her presentengagement to her height and length of limb. 

Miss Devereux respectfully argued that appearances were deceitful. _Moddam_ was quite as sylphlike as the model. Might the dress be sentto _moddam's_ cabin to try? Then it came out that _moddam_ was LadyEileen O'Neill, and the four tallest dryads visibly brightened, not somuch for the owner of the name as for her brother. 

Their dull days had been dimly lightened by gossip on the ship, brought to them by a stewardess from Lord Raygan's native isle, whoknew all about him: that he was an earl, that with his mother andsister he had booked from Liverpool to Queenstown, but, owing to theferocity of the sea, had been unable to land and was being carried toAmerica. Also that a rich young American and his sister had given uptheir suite to the ladies. This American was said to be of no birth, the son of some big shopkeeper, and far, far outside even the fringeof the Four Hundred; therefore the tallest dryads did their besteyelash work for Lord Raygan. They were born British, hailing fromBrixton or other suburban health resorts, and now they knew he was a"lord" the nickname of "Rags, " which had sickened them at first, seemed interesting and intimate as a domestic anecdote about royalty. 

Rags consented to buy the dress for his sister if it fitted and didn'tcost a million pounds. The dryads thought this adorably generous, forthe stewardess, who knew all about Lord Raygan, said that the "familyhad become impoverished; they were not what they had once been exceptin name, which was of the best and oldest in Ireland. " Stewardessescan tell all the things that Marconi does not mention. 

When the sale was settled Miss Devereux turned to Peter Rolls. "Andyou, sir?" she asked, slightly coquettish because he was a man, thoughnot of the Four Hundred. "I suppose there's nothing we can do foryou?"

"I suppose not, " Peter was echoing, when something occurred to him. "Unless, " he amended, "my sister would like to buy a dress. She's onboard. "

"Would she care to look at Mme. Nadine's designs?" suggested MissDevereux. "We have wardrobes full of marvellous inspirations. "

"The trouble is, she feels queer if she walks around much, " saidPeter. 

"Perhaps she would trust you to pick out something she might see inher own room? Is she tall or short?"

"Not so tall as any of you. "

"Things which would fit _this_ young lady would be the best, then. Miss Child, Miss Vedrine will help you out of 'First Love' behind thescreen and put you into the 'Young Moon. ' What"--_sotto voce_--"areyou laughing at _this_ time?"

"Nothing, " said the smallest dryad meekly, though she gurgled underher breath. 

"We'd better go now, and I'll come back, " hastily suggested Peter. "Don't bother to change behind the screen for us, please. I must askmy sister about the dress. "

He got the others out, which was not difficult as far as Eileen wasconcerned. She could hardly wait to try "First Love. "

Rags was determined to ask Miss Rolls if he shouldn't choose a frockfor her. But she said no, she didn't want one. This would have seemedto settle the matter, and did for Lord Raygan, who sat down besideher, abandoning further thought of the dryads. Peter, however, returned in due course to the room of the mirrors, because Miss Childcould not be allowed to get into the "Young Moon" in such weather fornothing. 

She was in it when he arrived. And pluck, mingled with excitement, having had a truly bracing effect on the girls, in the absence of thepeer they were nice to the plebeian. The girl in the "Young Moon, " tobe sure, had scarcely anything to say, but she had a peculiarlyfascinating way of not saying it. 

By the time Mr. Rolls had bought the "Moon" for his sister, he hadbecome quite friendly with the other dryads, on the strength of a fewsimple jokes about green cheese and blue moons and never havingdreamed he could obtain one by crying for it. 

"I was wondering, " he said at last, when he was about to go, "whetheryou'd care for me to bring you some Balm of Gilead?"

"Balm of Gilead?" all five, even the girl in the "Moon, " exclaimed. 

"Yes. Stuff for seasickness. Not that you _are_ seasick of course. Butthe balm's a good preventive. Did you never hear of it?"

They shook their heads. 

"It's the great thing our side of the water. I don't need it myself, but I know it's all right, because it's making my father a fortune. "

"Did he invent it?" inquired Miss Carroll. 

"No. But he named it and he sells it. It's the men who name things andsell things, not the ones who invent them, that get the money. Myfather is Peter Rolls, and I---"

"I hope you spell Rolls with an 'e, '" broke in Miss Vedrine. "Else itwould remind me of something I want to forget. "

"Something you--But maybe I can guess! What the ship does now?"

"Don't speak of it!" they groaned. 

"I won't! Or my name, either, if you'd rather not, especially as onlymy sister spells it with an 'e. ' I mentioned the name on account ofthe balm. The barber has no end of bottles. I'll go and buy you onenow. It tastes good. Back in ten minutes. " And he was gone. 

"His father must be a chemist, " sniffed Miss Devereux, as she unhookedthe "Young Moon. "

When Peter returned Miss Child was wearing a robe like an illuminatedcobweb on a background of violets. This was the "Yielding Heart. "Peter had brought a bottle and a clean napkin and five teaspoons. "Igot these things off a dining-room steward, " he explained. 

"Sounds like a conjurer, " murmured the girl who laughed. 

"How rude of you!" Miss Devereux scolded in a whisper. "Don't mindher, Mr. Rolls. She isn't a bit like the rest of us. "

Peter had noticed that. 

"She's always laughing at everything, and everybody, too, " went onMiss Devereux. 

"She's welcome to laugh at me, " said Peter. "I enjoy it. "

"Ladies don't. She'd never do for a _permanence_ with Mme. Nadine. Clients wouldn't stand being grinned at by models. "

"I don't laugh at people. I laugh at the world, " the model defendedherself. 

"Why?" inquired Peter, with a straight look at the queer, arrestingface. 

"To keep it from laughing at me first. And to make it laugh _with_me--if I can. "

"Do you think you can?"

"I shall try hard--against the biggest odds. And whatever it does tome, I shan't _cry_. "

"I shouldn't wonder if that wasn't the whole secret of life!" saidPeter Rolls, continuing to look at the face. 

Suddenly it flashed a smile at him. "Shouldn't you? Give _me_ the Balmof Gilead, and the rest would be easy!"

Peter was not stupid as a rule, yet he could not be quite sure whatshe meant. If he guessed right, the rest wasn't as easy as shethought. Yet the words made him wish that he could give the girl wholaughed--the girl who was not to be a "permanence" with Nadine--morethan a teaspoonful of balm. 

CHAPTER III

AN ILL WIND

While the storm held, Peter Rolls went several times each dreadful dayto the room of the mirrors and dosed his dryads with Balm of Gilead. The medicine--or something else--sustained them marvellously. And itoccurred to Peter that they would make a magnificent advertisement, ifthere were any way of using them--the kind of advertisement his fatherloved. 

It was well that Peter senior was not on board, or he would certainlypropose a new feature for the balm department: scene, richly furnishedsalon on a yacht; five fair effects in ball dresses sipping Balm ofGilead; the whole arrangement on a rocking platform, with mechanismhidden by realistically painted waves. But the dryads were previouslyengaged by the prostrate Nadine--all except one. 

When they were sufficiently restored to take an interest, Petersmuggled grapefruit, chocolates, and novels into the nursery. Thenovels his sister had brought with her to kill time during the voyage;but as it happened, she was killing it with Lord Raygan instead andnever missed the books. 

Nadine had been obliged to take first-class tickets for her models;otherwise the rules of the ship would not have allowed them past thebarrier, even in the pursuit of business. But they sardined in onecabin, near the bow, on the deepest down deck allotted tofirst-classhood, and their private lives were scarcely more enjoyablethan the professional. They were, to be sure, theoretically able totake exercise at certain hours, weather permitting; but weather didnot permit, and four of the dryads, when free, sought distraction inlying down rather than walking. It was only the fifth who would nottake the weather's "no" for an answer. 

She had a mackintosh, and with her head looking very small and neat, wound in a brown veil the colour of her hair, she joined the brigadeof the strong men and women who defied the winds by night. From eightto ten she staggered and slid up and down the wet length of theleast-frequented deck, or flopped and gasped joyously for a fewminutes in an unclaimed chair. 

Being "not a bit like the rest" of her sister dryads, she refrainedfrom mentioning this habit to Mr. Rolls, whose prowling place was onhigher decks. Not that she was still what he would have called"standoffish" with him. That would have been silly and Victorian afterthe grapefruit and chocolates and novels, to say nothing of balm bythe bottleful. The last dress she had worn on the first day of theiracquaintance, the "Yielding Heart, " had to a certain extent prophesiedher attitude with the one man who knocked at the dryad door. MissChild not only thought Mr. Rolls "might be rather nice, " but wasalmost sure he was. She was nice to him, too, in dryad land, when hepaid his visits to the sisterhood, but she did not "belong on hisdeck. "

By and by, however, he discovered her in the mackintosh and veil. Itwas one night when a young playwright who had seized on him as preywished to find a quiet place to be eloquent about the plot. 

"There's a deck two below, " said the aspirant for fame, "where nobodyprowls except a young female panther tied up in a veil. "

Five minutes later Peter Rolls took off his cap to the female panther. The playwright noticed this, but was too much interested in himselfand the hope of securing a capitalist to care. In sketching out hiscomedy he was blind to any other possibilities of drama, and so didnot see Peter's eagerness to get rid of him. He was even pleased when, after a few compliments, Rolls junior said: "Look here, you'd betterleave me to think over what you've told me. I fix things in my memorythat way. And maybe when I've got it straight in my headI'll--er--mention it to a man I know. "

As the playwright was shivering, he obeyed with alacrity; and in thewarmth of the smoking-room revelled in the picture of his tamecapitalist pacing a cold deck, lost to the sea's welter in thoughts ofthat marvellous last act. 

But it was a first act which was engaging Peter Rolls's attention, andhe, though the only male character in it (by choice), had to learn hispart as he went on. 

The play began by his joining the leading lady. (This has been donebefore, but seldom with such a lurch and on such sloping boards. )

It would have been a mockery to say "good evening" on a night so vile, and Mr. Rolls began by asking Miss Child if he might walk with her. 

"Or tango, " said she. "This deck is teaching me some wonderful newsteps. "

"I wish you'd teach them to me, " said Peter. 

"I can't, but the ship can. "

"Did you ever dance the tango?" he wanted to know. 

"Yes. In another state of existence. "

This silenced him for an instant. Then he skipped at least twospeeches ahead, whither his thoughts had flown. "Say, Miss Child, Iwish you'd tell me something about yourself. "

"There isn't anything interesting to tell, thank you, Mr. Rolls. "

"If that's your only reason, I think you might let me judge. Honestly, I don't want to intrude or be curious. But you're so different fromthe others. "

"I know I'm not pretty. That's why I have to be so painfully sweet. Igot the engagement only by a few extra inches. Luckily it isn't theface matters so much, " she chattered on. "I thought it was. But it'slegs; their being long; Mme. Nadine engages on that and your figurebeing right for the dresses of the year. So many pretty girls come inshort or odd lengths, you find, when they have to be measured by theyard, at bargain price. "

Peter laughed. 

"You're not meant to laugh there, " she said. "It's a solemn fact. "

"But _you_ always laugh. "

"That's because I'm what you'd call 'up against' life. It gives mesuch a funny point of view. "

"That's part of what I want to talk about. Please don't keep trying toturn the subject. Unless you think I have no business seizing thefirst chance when I find you alone, to---"

"It isn't that, " said Win. "I think you're very kind to take theslightest interest. But really there _is_ nothing to tell. Just theusual sort of thing. "

"It doesn't seem exactly usual to me for a girl about nineteen yearsold--"

"Twenty!"

"--to be leaving home alone and starting for a new country. "

"Not alone. Mme. Nadine might be furious if she were spoken of as mychaperon; but she is, all the same. Not that an emigrant needs achaperon. "

"You an emigrant!"

"Well, what else am I?"

"I've been thinking of you as a dryad. "

"A poor, drenched dryad, thousands of miles from her native woods. Doyou know, my veil is _soaked_?"

"I'll get you a sou'wester hat to-morrow. "

"Does the barber keep them as well as Balm of Gilead?"

"No, but my sister does. She keeps one. And she doesn't want it. Ishall annex it. "

"Oh! I couldn't take it!"

"If you don't, I'll throw it overboard. "

"Were the chocolates hers?"

"Yes. "

"And the books?"

"Some were mine. But not the ones Miss Devereux says are pretty. Lookhere, Miss Child, another thing she says is that you are not withNadine as a permanence. What does that mean, if you don't much mind myasking?"

"Not what you think. I'm not going to be discharged. I was engagedonly for the voyage, to take the place of a prettier girl with stilllonger legs who fell through at the last moment--literally. Shestepped into one of those gas-hole places in the street. And I steppedinto her shoes--lucky shoes!--sort of seven-league ones, bringing meacross the sea, all the way to New York free, for nothing. No! I hopenot for nothing. I hope it is to make my fortune. "

"I hope so, too, " said Peter gravely. "Got any friends there besidesme?"

"Thanks for putting it so, Mr. Balm of Gilead. Why, I've heard thateverybody in America is ready to be a friend to lonely strangers!"

"I guess your informant was almost too much of an optimist. Couldn'tyou be serious for just a minute? You know, I feel quite wellacquainted with you--and the others, of course. But they _are_different. And they _are_ 'permanences' with Nadine. That's the kindof thing they're fit for. I don't worry about them, and I shan't worryabout you, either, if you tell me you have friends or know what youare going to do when you land. "

"I can't tell you that, " Win answered in a changed tone, as ifsuddenly she were weary of trying to "frivol. " "But I have hopes; andI have two letters of introduction and a respectable, recommendedboarding-house and a little money left, so I really believe I shall beall right, thank you. My people thought my wanting to come showed 'mywild spirit, ' so I'm anxious to prove as soon as I can--not to themany more, but to myself--that I can live my own life in a new worldwithout coming to grief. "

"Why not prove to them any more?"

"Oh--because no one is going to care much. As I said, my native woodsare far behind, and most of the trees are cut down. Not a dryad of thetrue dryad family left, and this one is practically forgotten already. Her niche was all grown over with new bark long ago, so it was morethan time she ceased to haunt the place. "

"I'm afraid you've had a great sorrow, " said Peter. 

"It was hardly big enough for that word--this thing that's sent meseeking my fortune--though it began with a sorrow long ago. "

"Some one you loved died?" Peter had a simple, direct way of askingquestions that led you on. 

"My mother. When I was fourteen--not old enough to be of much use tomy father and the baby brother. So my father had to get some one to bea kind of housekeeper and superior nurse. He's a clergyman. I don'tlook like a clergyman's daughter, perhaps--and he thought I didn'tbehave like one, especially after the housekeeper came. She's the kindwho calls herself 'a lady housekeeper. ' I don't know if you have themin America. She and I had rows--and that upset father. He didn't wantto get rid of her because she managed things splendidly--him and thebaby and the vicarage--and influential old ladies said she 'filled adifficult position satisfactorily. ' So it was simpler to get rid ofme. I went to boarding-school. "

"Did you like that?"

"I loved it. After the first year I didn't go home even for theholidays. Often I visited--girls were nice to me. But I didn't makethe most of my time--I'm furious with myself for that now. I learnednothing--nothing, really, except the things I wanted to learn. Andthose are always the ones that are least useful. "

"I found that, too, " said Peter, "at Yale. "

"It didn't matter for you. You have the Balm of Gilead. "

"That's my father's. "

"What's his is yours, I suppose. "

"He says so. But--we all have our own trouble. Mine's not living up tomy principles, or even knowing exactly what they are--being all in aturmoil. But it's yours I want to talk about. "

"I've forbidden myself the word 'trouble. ' It builds a wall. And I'vejust broken through my wall. I could have done it sooner and better ifI'd learned more difficult things, that's all. When I wanted to dosomething for myself--why, I couldn't do a _thing_ that was any goodin a busy world. I'd had no training except for my voice. "

"There! I thought you sounded as if you had a voice!"

"_I_ thought so, too. But that was another of my mistakes. "

"I bet it wasn't. "

"You'd lose your money, Mr. Rolls. I spent most of mine before I foundout. You see, my mother left a little. It wasn't to come to me till Iwas twenty-one, but all sorts of things happened. My father kept me atschool till a year and a half ago because he didn't know what to dowith me. Then my little brother died. I ought to have cared more, butI hardly knew him. His coming killed my mother; and he loved _thatwoman_. I don't see how he could!

"When he was gone, people might have gossiped about her and fatherperhaps. I believe she suggested it to him and said she must go away, to make him think of marrying her; but all he did was to send for me. I stood it for six months. It was horrid for all three. I dare say Iwas to blame. I had a scene with father, and told him I'd made up mymind to go to London for singing lessons so I could support myself: Icouldn't live at home. That forced the situation! Before anyone--except the 'lady housekeeper'--knew quite what was happening, father had asked her to be his wife--or she'd asked him. I went beforethe wedding. I'd worshipped my mother! And--but that's all the story. "

"I call it only the preface. What about London?"

"Oh, father gave me my money ahead of time, for the lessons. He didn'tapprove, on principle, but he would have had no peace with me at home, and he likes peace better than anything. I had to promise I wouldn'tgo into musical comedy. That makes me laugh now! But I thought thenI'd only to ask and to have. I took lessons of a man who'd been acelebrated tenor. He must have known that my voice was nothing, really, but he buoyed me up. I suppose they're all like that. It'sbusiness. 

"When the money was two thirds spent I dared not go on, and I askedhim to find me something to do. He'd often said he would when theright time came. Apparently it hadn't come. He made the excuse that Iought to have stayed with him longer. It would hurt his reputation tolaunch a pupil too soon. So I had to try to launch myself. And itdidn't work. One manager of opera companies on whom I forced myselftested my voice and said it wasn't strong enough--only a twilightvoice for a drawing-room, he called it. I was broken up--just atfirst. "

"Poor child!" Peter muttered, but the girl's quick ears caught thewords over the roar of that "ill wind" which had brought themtogether. 

"Child is my surname, and it's not polite to call me by it. " Shebrought him to his bearings by suddenly "frivolling" again. "They callmilitant suffragettes and housemaids sent to prison for stealing theirkind mistresses' jewels by their surnames. I'm not a militant; andI've not been a housemaid yet, though I may be, if New York isn'tkinder to me than London. "

"I hope it will be--kind in just the right way!"

"My friend who gave me the two letters of introduction says it will:that Americans _love_ English girls, if they have the courage to comeover. She says there are heaps more chances as well as heaps more roomfor us in that country than there are at home. "

"That's true, but---"

"Please don't discourage me!"

"Not on your life! Only---"

"'Only' is as bad a word as 'but. ' I've got a letter of introductionto the editor of a New York paper, _To-day and To-morrow_, and one tothe organist of a Higher Thought church. Maud Ellis says they're bothsplendid men and interested in women's progress. Something good oughtto come from one or the other. Getting this chance of my passage freeseems a happy omen, as if I were _meant_ to take this great adventure. I'm not one bit afraid. I feel boiling with courage--except when theship pitches and rolls at the same time. "

"That's right. You're bound to make good, of course. I wouldn'tdiscourage you for the world. All I meant to say was that I'd like youto think of me as a friend. I don't want to lose sight of you when weland. I might be able to help in some way or other or--my familymight. Before we get off the ship I'll introduce you and my sister toeach other. "

"Oh, thank you! You're very kind, " the banished dryad said for thethird or fourth time. "But I should be sorry to trouble Miss Rolls. She wouldn't---"

"Yes, she would, " insisted Peter. "She'll be awfully interested when Itell her about you, Miss Child, and very pleased to know you. "

Win was silenced, though not convinced. It is not safe for a brotherto judge his sister by himself. 

CHAPTER IV

THE KINDNESS OF MISS ROLLS

Peter found it not so easy as he had expected to snatch anopportunity of interesting Ena in Miss Child. His sister was even morethan ordinarily interested in her own affairs, which had reached acritical stage, and if Peter, having run her to earth in her cabin, attempted to talk of any one save Ena Rolls or Lord Raygan her eyesbecame like shut windows. He could almost see her soul turning itsback and walking away behind the panes of opaque gray glass. 

There had been another evening prowl with the young female pantherbefore the evasive chance was grasped, and the storm-tossed, overdue_Monarchic_ hoped to dock within eighteen hours. 

Things were growing desperate for Peter. He was not, of course, inlove with the "queer, arresting face, " but he could not bear to thinkof its arriving alone and unprotected in New York. Something must bedone, and he resorted to bribery. 

"Look here, Sis, " he began, "I've just thought there may be reasonswhy Raygan can't make up his mind to visit a bit on our side, now heand his family are here. "

"He hasn't said he won't do it, " Ena cut in. 

"No, but he hasn't said he will, has he?"

"Not yet. I daren't seem too eager. "

"To save my life, I don't see why you _should_ be eager. But as youare, I've been giving my mind to the subject. " (This was subtle ofPeter. ) "I've come to the conclusion that the man would like to stay. I'm sure his sister would. Perhaps you can answer for the mother. Thetrouble may be money. "

"Perhaps. I've thought of that. But what can we do? We can't go to himout of a clear sky and offer to lend. "

"I might propose to put him on to a good thing. "

"Oh, Peter, _would_ you help me like that, in a man's way?"

"I would, if you'd do me a favour, in a woman's way. "

"What is it? But whatever it is, I'm sure to!"

They were in Miss Rolls's cabin, the one she had generously taken overfrom Lady Raygan and Eileen. Ena was sitting on the seat under thewindow; Peter was looking uncomfortable on a camp-chair. It was asmall cabin, boiling over with dresses, though the "Young Moon" hadnot yet been added to their number. Peter had never found his sisterin a propitious mood for the gift, and had been keeping the "Moon, "figuratively, up his sleeve till the right moment came. Now, perhapsit had come. 

Ena had been lying down after luncheon. She had given herself thislittle rest because she knew that Raygan was going to play poker inthe smoking-room. She had learned bridge--though cards bored her--justas she had learned tennis and golf and all sorts of eccentric dances, in order to be popular, to be in the swim, to do just what thefashionable people were doing--the people at the top, where she wantedto arrive. 

But she could not play poker! And if she could, it would have beenimpossible to go with Lord Raygan into the smoking-room. Luckily noother girl would be there, so Ena resigned herself to the loss ofvaluable time on her last day. 

"Why, yes, " Peter answered. "I believe you _are_ sure to! It won't bea hard favour to do, Sis. It's only to let me introduce a girl, a verynice girl, and then to be kind and help her if she needs it. "

Ena laughed. "Is that all? I guess--I mean, I fancy--I can promisethat. Girls don't need much help nowadays Who is she? Have I seenher?"

"No. You haven't seen her. "

"Is she pretty?" Peter had expected that question. Ena, and all theother girls he knew, invariably asked it. But he did not quite knowwhat to answer. 

"She's awfully attractive, " he said. "The sort you'd turn and lookafter in a crowd. She hasn't got what you call features, but--youcan't take your eyes off her somehow. She looks--she looks--well, atiny bit like a--a--perfectly gloriously fascinating--golliwog. "

"A golliwog!"

"Great big, wide-apart eyes, I mean; dark, floating ones, with immenseeyelashes that curl up and stick out when you see her profile. She'sgot a short, round face--no, kind of heart-shaped, I guess, and alittle, delicate, turned-up nose, like the Duchess of Marlborough's;and a lovely mouth--yes, her mouth _is_ lovely, no mistake! She'snearly always laughing, even when she isn't happy. She's got a longneck, like a flower stem, and long legs---"

"Good gracious, what a description! For heaven's sake, who is thegirl?"

"Oh, I know it must sound queer; but she's the most fascinating thingyou ever saw, and any man would say so. She's a Miss Child---"

"There's no Miss Child on the passenger list. "

"Maybe not; because she's one of Nadine's models, and I bought you agorgeous dress off her. I've been--saving it for a surprise. It'scalled the 'New'--no, the 'Young Moon. '"

Ena forgot for a moment that she badly needed help from her brotherand began sharply to catechize him. "_When_ did you buy me a dress?The day Lord Raygan offered to go back to that room and choose me oneand I said no, I didn't want a dress?"

"Yes. That was the day. I couldn't let her try it on in vain. "

"Oh, you bought it to please _her_--the girl like a golliwog?"

"She isn't like a golliwog, really. That's not fair. And I bought thedress to please you, of course. It's mighty pretty. I've got it in myroom. "

"I wonder what your steward thinks? Well, I'll thank you when I seeit. But what an idea, to introduce one of those girls to _me_! LordRaygan said they were all bleached and painted, except the one whowasn't pretty. "

"That's my one. But I think she is pretty, and better than pretty. Hereyes--and her smile---"

"Never mind her eyes and her smile. I _can't_ be introduced to amodel, Petro. I _won't_ know a dressmaker. "

"Mother was one. And father's mother was a washer---"

"Be still, for the love of heaven! If any one should hear!"

"I'm not ashamed of---"

"Well, I _am_! Oh, Petro, don't be horrid, just when I really need youto be nice. And you can be nice--very nice. Don't let's even thinkabout the family past. It's awful! It's a blot! But it can't behelped. We must try to live it down. And we can, with our money. Wecan and we must. A great chance has come to us. All the more becauseof--of what you reminded me--we must be careful of the sort of peoplewe mix ourselves up with--"

"This girl is a lady. "

Then Ena lost her temper. "They all are, " she snapped. "I supposeshe's a clergyman's daughter and her parents are dead. "

"Her mother is, " Peter admitted. 

"She _would_ be! What does the girl want help for? Doesn't Nadine payher wages?"

"She only engaged with Nadine to work out her passage. "

"Oh! They say girls from all over the world are bearing down on poorlittle old New York since Owen Johnson wrote 'The Salamander. '"

"Jove, Ena, I never knew before you had anything of the cat in you!"

This, and a flash in the eyes which were bluer than hers, brought MissRolls to her bearings. She remembered the reason for going softly withPeter. Luckily she had done no great mischief yet. 

"Can't you take a joke, Petro?" she teased him, laughing "I'm not acat, or a pig, either. But you do scare me a little. You don't _like_this girl, do you?"

"Of course I like her. "

"You know what I mean by 'like. ' And I hope I know what _you_ mean. You always yearn over every creature who hasn't as much money as wehave and needs ours. _Sure_ it's no more than that this time? It wouldbe--just the limit, the outside edge and down the other side, if youfell in love with a dressmaker's model. It would be like--likereverting to type. We must climb, not--_root_. "

Peter laughed--nervously, his sister feared. "What a girl you are! Youneedn't fash yourself about my feelings for Miss Child. All I want isto help her to get on. "

"Oh! To help her get on? Well, then, you may introduce her to me, ifit can be done without taking up too much time. You know, Petro, it'smy last day on board, and I have my feelings as much as you. How canwe manage it? Can you bring her here?"

"I can't 'bring' her anywhere, " Peter retorted rather gruffly. "Sheisn't a servant looking for a place. I've told you she's a lady. "

"Oh, all right. What do you suggest?"

"She hasn't much time to herself. Since the weather improved, businessis brisker. But after her dinner she gets in a walk down on B deck, where nobody else goes. I could take you there about half-past eight. "

"Very well. That's the program. " Ena spoke with regained cheerfulness, because no one need witness an introduction effected on B deck, andbecause a sentence of Peter's had been like a bull's-eye lanterndirecting a ray along the right track. "I'll be _ever_ so nice to MissChild to-night--and afterward, too, in New York, if you can bringanything off with Lord Raygan about the visit. Are you playing pokerwith him this afternoon?"

"Yes. Some chaps wanted---"

"I know. He told me. But he didn't mention you. Afterward, will youwork right up to the 'good thing' you can put him on to? He'll be injust the mood--if he loses. And he says he always does lose. "

"Yes. I'll let him see that he might do well for himself by staying. Gee! Think of a fellow needing a bribe to spend a couple of weeks inGod's country!"

"He doesn't know yet that it is God's country. We must show him. Oh, Peter, won't the Van Raaltens and the Arlingtons fall over themselveswith rage if the Earl of Raygan and his mother and sister stop with usfor a fortnight!"

"Stop with us for a fortnight!" mimicked Peter, scornful yetaffectionate now. "You get more British every day in your accent andconversation, my kid. "

"Well, I try hard enough! I _do_ like their way of speaking. They makeour voices sound grating and our expressions crude. "

"_Our_ ways for mine!"

"You can have them. Now run away, Petro. I'll see the 'Young Moon'later. I need a nap. Lay awake last night worrying!"

But when he had gone she lay awake planning. This golliwog wasundoubtedly dangerous. The absorbed look in Peter's eyes when hedescribed her singular attractions contradicted the statement that hisfeelings were Platonic. 

He "only wanted to help!" Pooh! Still Ena was glad he had said that, because it had given her a brilliant idea. It was also rather a cruelidea, but all is fair in love and war: and this might be both. 

Of course, if the girl were coming to New York to be a Salamander, the weapon would be useless. Ena must find another. She could not besure until she had met Miss Child; but she told herself that noglorified golliwog, however sly, could fool _her_ for five minutes!She would soon know whether Peter were right or wrong about thisdaughter of a clergyman whose mother was dead. 

Poor Petro, he was such a fool about people--such a dear, nice, butsometimes inconvenient fool! Just mother's disposition over again, with a touch of father's cleverness splashed in here and there whereyou'd least expect it--but _never_ in the place where it would be mostuseful. 

As Ena reflected thus, she was vaguely pleased with herself after thefashion of an earnest student who suddenly finds himself actuallythinking in French. Before she Went to Mme. Yarde's Finishing Schoolfor Young Ladies, she had been so accustomed to saying pa and ma thatit had been very difficult to overcome the habit. Even now, once in awhile, she--but, thank heaven, not _once_ since meeting Lord Raygan;she was sure of that. He had said, "You talk quite like our girls. "And all the rest of the day she had been happy; for sometimes, in agood-natured sort of way, he made fun of what he absurdly called "theAmerican accent. "

Ena shut her eyes and composed herself to lie down without rufflingher hair. But she could not sleep. She made pictures of Lord Rayganand his mother and Lady Eileen visiting at their house on Long Island. 

Would they think it more "swell" of the Rollses to be living in thecountry than in New York? She hoped so, and almost believed theywould, for she understood from novels and what she had learned inLondon, that the "smart people" only "ran into town for the theatreand that sort of thing" in winter. Now it was October--almost winter. And in the automobile it was only an hour and twenty-five minutes fromSea Gull Manor (Ena had named the new place herself) to New York. 

Besides, in the country the visitors wouldn't so easily find out thatthe family hadn't got "into" things--the things that mattered. Ofcourse they could see what the family _was_. They could see thatanywhere, alas! But poor father and mother were better against acountry background. And foreigners might attribute some quaint tricksof manner and speech to their being Americans, just as she and Peterhadn't known how awful the cockney accent was until they had been toldby English people. 

Oh, it was lovely over there! Nobody snubbed her. She would giveanything to live on that side all her life, married to a man of title, and go home occasionally, to pay back the proud cats who hadscratched. Meanwhile, it would be a step on the golden ladder toflaunt Lord Raygan and his mother and Eileen as guests. Then, if Ragscould swallow the family and propose (as sometimes she thought hecontemplated doing), how wonderful it would be! Her idealaccomplished!

No golliwog on earth should be allowed to defeat this end. For theaddition of a model, dressmaking golliwog to the family would be thefinal obstacle. Lord Raygan was now undecided. He was perhaps waitingto see how the rest of the Rollses shaped up. If he could stand themas relations, all would be well. All _must_ be well!

That night Win wore for her walk a long blue coat in place of themackintosh. It was shabby, but becoming; and her dark hair was tuckedinto a close-fitting cap of the same blue as the cloak. She knew whatwas due to happen at half-past eight, and though grateful to Mr. Balmof Gilead, dreaded the result of his kindness. 

Miss Rolls would be the first American girl she had ever met; but sheknew how an English girl would feel about being introduced to a vaguewaif picked up by a brother in a dressmaker's showroom on shipboard. It would have been ungracious to refuse the offered introduction sowell meant, but the fifth dryad was not looking forward to it withpleasurable sensations. 

When she saw the brother and sister coming toward her, however, thesmile on Miss Rolls's face was encouraging. It was dimly like Peter'ssmile, and there was a certain family resemblance about the faces:both dark, with eager eyes that seemed light in contrast withdead-black hair, but the eagerness of Miss Rolls's look was differentfrom the eagerness of her brother's. His was slightly wistful in itssearch for something he did not yet know. Hers was dissatisfied, searching for something she wanted and had not got. 

He was a lean young man, not very tall, but with rather the air of anex-college athlete. She was a plump, short girl, somewhat square inbuild, but distinctly handsome, showing beautiful teeth in her cordialsmile. If the smile had been less cordial Miss Child might haveconceived the catty idea that the magnificent ruby-velvet hoodedevening cloak had been put on to impress the humble new acquaintance. However, it would have been mean to suspect a sister of Mr. Balm ofGilead of such a snobbish trick. And there _was_ the smile. 

"Miss Child, I'm very pleased to meet you, " said the handsome girlwarmly, just as her brother had hopefully prophesied. "Peter's told mequite a lot about you. I think you're awfully brave. "

"Perhaps one doesn't deserve much credit for courage in doing a thingone wants to do, " answered Winifred, her slim, ringless handresponding to the kind pressure of the plump one wearing too manyrings. (They were all rubies to-night. Miss Rolls had read about awonderful Russian woman before whom men went down like ninepins andwho always matched her dresses with her jewels. )

Yes, Ena thought, Peter was right; the creature was a lady. She had asoft, throaty voice, like a blackbird when it talks to itself, and oh, a _creamy_ accent! Miss Rolls would have given anything to extract it, like pith, from the long white stem in which it seemed to live. Shewould have been willing to pay well for it, and for Miss Child'slength of limb, so necessary to show off the latest fashions. She sawand appreciated the odd, golliwog charm of wide-apart eyes under higharch of brow. And the full, laughing mouth, with the short upper lip, was beautiful, like the mouths of marvellous girls on magazine covers. The creature looked brave and rather sweet, and Miss Rolls was quitesorry for her; but the thing had to be done. 

"Petro, you go away and let us have a talk, " said Petro's kind sistergayly. "Two is company; three's none. "

And Petro went, thinking Ena the grandest sort of a pal. He had donehis best for her already. Raygan and the two ladies had graciouslyagreed to stay for a fortnight at least in the country upon whichProvidence had thrust them. Peter had Marconied home, and home wouldcertainly Marconi back an invitation to Sea Gull Manor. As he had saidto Ena, he had pressed the button; she must do the rest. But he feltnow as if he would enjoy doing a great deal more for her than he hadyet done. 

"And just what do you want to do in New York, Miss Child?" inquiredMiss Rolls, as they began slowly to pace the otherwise deserted deck. 

"I have wild hopes of getting newspaper work of some sort through oneletter of introduction I have, " answered Win, "or into a choir ascontralto from the other. If not--oh, well, every one says America'sthe country for women. "

"Yes, it is. We have splendid fun, " Ena assured her. "The men are sokind to us. "

"I think they must be, " Win agreed. "Mr. Rolls has been very kind. Areall the rest like him?"

"I--suppose they have different ways of being kind--some of them. Somemay be _safer_ than others. I hardly know how to put it!"

"I think I understand. "

"I--wonder if you do. Oh, Miss Child, I _wish_ I dared speak to youfrankly!"

When people begin thus there is invariably something disagreeable tofollow; but Winifred Child braced herself and said calmly: "Pleasedo. "

"It's very difficult. I'm quite afraid of you. "

"It's I who ought to be afraid of you. "

"Don't be! I wish I could make you trust me. Can I?"

"Why not?"

"I'm throwing things at you so suddenly. But what else can I _do_? Wehaven't much time. My brother'll come back and join us. And--it'sabout him I want to speak. He's so--interested in you. "

"That's very nice of him. " Winifred's voice was as cold and bright asa very small icicle. 

"It ought to be! _But_--well, he's a dear brother and a splendidfellow in many ways. I hate to say anything against him. Yet I'd hatestill more to have you--disappointed. His one fault is--he's ratherfoolish about women, especially those not exactly in his own set. Doyou see what I mean? It's so hard for me! He said to-day he was goingto try to help you. That frightened me a little. I felt I must giveyou this tiny warning, for Peter has such a _trustworthy_ air, hasn'the?"

"Yes, indeed he has, " answered Win, loyal still to Mr. Balm of Gilead, _alias_ Peter Pan. But the night had grown colder. 

"I'm his sister. I can't help feeling responsible for him. And, in away, I feel responsible for you, too, as it's through him I've metyou--and you'll be a stranger in our country. That's why I shouldn'thave _dared_ let this chance pass without speaking. Yet I keeprambling on without the courage to say much. "

"It isn't necessary to dot all the i's and cross the t's, " returnedWinifred, trying not to let her voice be sharp or her tone bitter, forshe had to believe that this girl was sincere. A sister would notblacken the character of a brother for the mere pleasure of hearingherself talk!

"You do take this as I mean it, don't you?"

"I think so. "

"Thank you _so_ much. It's very sweet and generous of you not to beangry with me and think me a busybody meddling in other people'sbusiness. But it _is_ my business to see that my brother doesn't hurta girl who trusts him--a stranger in a strange land. All I want you topromise is that instead of letting _him_ help you, when he offers to, as he's sure to do--if he hasn't already--you'll let _me_ do it. "

"I'm hoping not to need help, except from the friends of my friend whohas given me introductions, " Win justified her pride of womanhood. 

"I don't suppose you will need anything else. You look as if you couldget along _anywhere_. But if you do need a push, promise you won'taccept favours from my brother, or let him come into your life at all. It's entirely for your own sake I ask. "

"I understand that, Miss Rolls. What other reason could there be?"

"There couldn't be any other. Do promise. I'm so frightened for you. "

"I shall certainly accept no help from Mr. Rolls. "

"That's good! It relieves my mind. And swear you won't let him dreamthat I've said anything or interfered with his plans. "

"His plans!"

"Well--when a man with Peter's _one_ fault offers to help a girl geton in New York--Please don't be offended"

"I am not. Of course it goes without saying that I won't let him knowI've had a warning from you. "

"He'd never speak to me again if you even gave him a hint. "

"Don't be afraid. I won't; not the faintest. Why, we're landingto-morrow morning early! There won't be a chance to say more than'Good-bye. '"

"There's to-night, after I go in. He'll be back---"

"I'm going in, too. I shall go when you go. "

"Perhaps it would be better. Oh, you don't know what a weight is offmy mind!"

"I'm glad it is gone. "

"And you'll write to _me, _ won't you, and let me know how you getalong? Write just what you need. I'll be delighted---"

"If I need anything--thank you. "

"My address is Sea Gull Manor, Old Chesterton, Long Island. Shall Iwrite it down?"

"No, please don't trouble. I can always remember addresses. You'rereally very good--to take an interest. And--and I know it must havebeen hard for you to--to feel you had to speak. "

It was also hard, desperately hard, for Win to pay this tribute toMiss Rolls's unselfish interest in her moral welfare. She tried to begrateful, to feel that her late friend's sister had been brave andfine and unconventional thus to defend a strange girl against one sonear. But despite reason's wise counsel, her heart was hot within her. She felt like a heathen assured by an earnest missionary that her godwas a myth. 

She disliked kind Miss Rolls intensely, and would have loved to letloose upon her somewhat obtuse head the sarcasm of which at thatmoment she felt herself a past mistress. She wanted to be rich andimportant and have Miss Rolls, poor and suppliant, at her mercy. Horrified, she saw by the searchlight of her own anger dark depths ofcruelty and revenge in her own nature. She longed to rush to Peter andtell him everything, and believe in him again, for it was hard to losea friend--an ideal ewe-lamb of a friend. She wished she might wake upin her overcrowded stateroom and find that this hateful conversationhad been a dream. 

But she could not do any of these brutal, silly, or impossible things. She was not dreaming. All was true. Miss Rolls had meant well, and Mr. Balm of Gilead did not exist. He was only Peter Rolls, a rich, selfishfellow who thought girls who had to work fair game. His sister mustknow his true inwardness. Probably she had learned through unpleasanthushed-up experiences, through seeing skeletons unfleshed by Peterstalk into the family cupboard. 

"You ungrateful beast, behave yourself!" Miss Child boxed the ears ofher sulky ego and shook it. 

The throaty quiver in the blackbird voice of the dangerous golliwogwent vibrating through Miss Rolls's conscience in a really painfulway. She felt as if she had had a shock of electricity. But, thankgoodness, the worst was over, and now that she had grasped safety (forinstinct said that the girl would not betray), she could afford to begenerous. 

She reminded herself that she had acted entirely in self-defence, notthrough malice, and she had not told a single lie about Peter. She hadbut said--in words--that some men were safer than others, which everyone knew to be true; that Peter was rather foolish about women (so hewas--ridiculously soft, not modern in his ideas at all!), and that itwould be better for the girl to accept help from her--Ena--than from ayoung man. It was very good advice, and nothing Peter ought to beangry about, even if he should ever hear--which, pray heaven, he mightnot! As Ena reminded herself how wise and tactful she had been, afaint glow stole into the chilly zone round her heart, just as you canheat a cold foot by concentrating yourself on telling it that it iswarm. 

"I want to be your _friend_, " she went on sweetly. "Perhaps you aren'tvery rich? As girl to girl, let me offer you a little, littlepresent--or a loan--a hundred dollars. I've got it with me---"

"Oh, thank you many times, but I couldn't possibly!" cried Win. "Idon't need it. I have lots of money. "

"I'm glad--though I should have liked the pleasure, " said Ena. And shegenuinely would, because the act of giving would have pumped warmthinto the cold place without waiting for time to change thetemperature. 

"There's one thing you must let me do, anyhow, " she persisted. "Thatdress--the 'Blue Moon, ' isn't it?--that you tried on and my brotherbought for me, I want you to accept it. Oh, don't say no! It's milestoo long for me" (she couldn't have brought herself to confess that itwas hopelessly small for waist and hips), "and I never enjoy altereddresses--the style's lost. So you'll not be robbing me. If you won'thave it, I shall believe it's a sign that you're offended at myinterference. "

Winifred thought for an instant and drew a long breath. "Then I musttake the dress, " she said. "It's more than good of you, of course. Ishan't be in the kind of world where I can wear it, but---"

"Keep it to remember this evening--I mean, to remember me, " Miss Rollshastily amended. 

"I will, " said Win simply. But there was no danger that she would everforget Miss Rolls--or her kindness. 

CHAPTER V

SCENES FOR A "MOVIE"

When Peter thought that he might decently return to B deck withoutbreaking into charming womanly confidences, it was deserted. The moonwas struggling out through black clouds and pouring silver into thesea's ink, but the girl in the moon was gone. 

When he found Ena again--which was easy because of the ruby cloak--shewas sitting between Raygan and Lady Eileen on the boat deck. He knewthat she would be annoyed if he mentioned Miss Child in thisdistinguished company, and, in any case, he would not have cared tospeak of the girl there. 

Realizing that he had kept away too long and lost his chance of seeingMiss Child again that night, he consoled himself by knocking at Ena'sdoor when she had evaded him and sought sanctuary in her cabin. Shelet him in at once, not because she wanted to do so, but because hewould "turn suspicious" if she made an excuse to keep him out. 

"Well?" said he. "What did you think of her?"

"Miss Child? She seems a very nice girl, and you're perfectlyright--she is a lady. I don't know if she's quite as young as youthink, and _I_ don't call her pretty; but she is attractive in spiteof being so awfully tall. We had a pleasant talk, and I offered to doanything I could. I gave her our address, and she is to write. "

"Did you tell her you'd invite her down?" Peter put this questiondiffidently. 

"I--intimated it. She was rather independent but _very_ nice, and saidshe was grateful, especially after I insisted on giving her that'Moon' dress, which now I've sent to her cabin. You know, she _has_friends in New York, and seems to know just what she wants to do, so Icouldn't thrust myself upon her. But I think I did the right thing. "

"I'm sure of that, you dear girl, " said Peter. 

And so was the dear girl herself. 

Next morning the room of the mirrors was destitute of dryads. Its oncecrowded wardrobes were empty; the huge screen was folded and leaningagainst the wall. The dryad door stood open (as Peter Rolls observedwhen he "happened" to pass, about the time the _Monarchic_ neared theStatue of Liberty) and nothing reminiscent remained save a hauntingperfume of "Rose-Nadine" sachet powder, a specialty which might havebeen the lingering wraith of a dryad. 

As the visions had vanished with all their belongings, Peter thoughtit probable they would be on some deck or other watching for the NewYork skyscrapers. And he was right concerning four of his modelacquaintances. The fifth was not visible, and Miss Devereux explainedher absence by saying that she was "lazy. "

"She's on her own now, you know, " she added, "and can sleep as late asshe likes. But I wouldn't miss the first sight of New York for apound! Some people have no romance in them. "

Up till the last minute Peter had hopes of B deck; but they wereblighted and disappointed, even depressed; he had to land with Ena andher friends without having seen Miss Child. Still, there was the pier, crowded with people who had come to wave welcome to the _Monarchic_. There appeared to be a fearful confusion, and this was Peter's firstreturn from his first trip abroad; but he knew that the excited throngwould soon be sorted out under letters of the alphabet. 

Peter senior had come to meet his returning children and thedistinguished guests Marconi had bestowed on him (a little, dry, thinman, who looked as though a lost resemblance to Peter might come outif he were freshened up by being soaked for a long time in warmwater), and he had already secured a tame official to glancegraciously into the luggage. After shaking heartily the small bag ofbones that was his father's hand, and saying "Hello, Dad! How'syourself? How's mother? How's everything?" Peter was free for a fewminutes to sprint from "B" to "C. "

His spirit rose at the comparative dearth of "C's. " Not more than adozen of the crowded _Monarchic's_ passengers were dancing withimpatience beneath the third letter of the alphabet, and Mr. Rolls, Jr. , walked straight up to tall Miss Child without being beaten backby a surf of "C's. " To be sure, Miss Carroll was under the sameletter, and observed the approach of Peter with interest, if notsurprise; but she was seated on a trunk at some distance key in hand. 

"Well, I'm mighty glad to find you!" exclaimed Peter cordially. "Ibegan to think it must be a trick of dryads to wait themselves ashorewithout waiting for the clumsy old ship to dock. "

"I was busy packing this morning, " replied the alleged dryad, with ahard, undryadic expression on her "heart-shaped" face. 

"You disappeared so early last night, I'd an idea you were doing yourpacking then so as to be up with the dawn and get a good look at theharbour. "

"I could see a great deal from our porthole. "

"I shouldn't have thought you were the kind of girl to be satisfiedwith portholes, " said Peter, hoping to wake up one of her smiles. Hervoice sounded rather tired. 

"Beggars mustn't be choosers, " was the dry reply. 

"But dryads may be, " he encouraged her. 

"I've left my dryadhood hanging up behind the door. " She spokesharply, almost irritably, it seemed. "I shan't need it in New York. "

"Oh, won't you? That's where you're mistaken! There'll be lots oftimes when you'd rather have it than the grandest opera cloak. "

"I shan't need an opera cloak, either. "

Peter was still smiling, though less confident of the old friendlyunderstanding which had given them a language of their own with wordswhich would have been nonsense for others. 

"We'll see. Anyhow, I shall ask you to go to the very firstworth-while opera that comes along. Consider it a formal invitation. "

"Very well, I will, and answer it formally. 'Miss Child thanks Mr. Rolls for his kind invitation, and regrets that a previous engagementmakes it impossible for her to accept. '"

"By Jove, that does sound formal enough! How do you know you'll have aprevious engagement?"

"I'm perfectly certain I shall. "

This was the real thing! There was no joke in the bottom of themedicine glass. 

Peter's face grew red, like a scolded schoolboy's. Winifred (who waslooking at Miss Carroll's trunk, but saw only Mr. Rolls) thought thathe was going to speak out angrily, and perhaps give her a glimpse ofhis black heart. She hoped he would, for it would have been a relief;but he did not. 

"Have I done anything to offend you?" he asked with a straight look;and though he spoke in a low tone, it was not a secret tone at all. 

"No, certainly not, " she answered, opening her eyes at him. "Why doyou ask?"

"Because--you weren't like this on the ship. "

"I've left my ship manners hanging up behind the door with mydryadhood. I shan't use them in New York, either!"

"Well--I'm sorry!"

"I don't know why you should be. " If she had not stared hard at MissCarroll's trunk, and tried anxiously to make out the name on a verysmall label, she would have done what she had boasted of never doing, whatever the world did to her: she would have cried. As it was, shewore the expression of a budding basilisk. 

"_Don't_ you know? Well, then, you didn't realize what it meant to meto have you for a friend. "

"I really didn't think much about it, Mr. Rolls!"

"Evidently not. But I did. Look here, Miss Child. Did my sister putyou against me--or our friendship--in any way?"

"What an extraordinary idea!" sneered Winifred. "She spoke very nicelyof you, as far as I can remember, and said you were a dear brother. "

"Then why are you so unkind to me now after being nice on the ship?"

"Oh, _that_! It was for a cinema, a motion picture. Didn't youunderstand?"

This slapped Peter in the face: that she should retort with flippantslang, when he was earnestly begging for an explanation. At last shehad succeeded in freezing him. 

"I'm afraid I didn't quite understand, " he said in a new tone whichshe had not heard before. Mr. Balm of Gilead, _alias_ Peter Pan, hadsuddenly grown up, and as Peter Rolls, Jr. , was all politeness andconventionality. 

"I do understand now, though. Well, Miss Child, I must--thank that'cinema' for some very pleasant hours. Here comes a man to look atyour baggage. Just remind him that you're a British subject, and hewon't make you any trouble. Neither will I!" Peter's hat was off, buthis smile could have been knocked off only with a hammer. 

"Good-bye, " replied Win hastily, frightened at her own appallingsuccess as a basilisk. "And thank _you_--for your part of the cinema. "

"I'm afraid I don't deserve any credit. Good-bye. And good luck. "

He was gone--but no, not quite. Without turning round to look at heragain, he was stopping to speak with the Irish-faced servant of thecustoms. The latter nodded and even touched his cap. Peter Rollscertainly had a way with him. But Win already knew this, to hersorrow. She was _glad_ she had thought of that horrid speech about thecinema. The man deserved it. 

"That's the last I shall see of him!" she said to herself almostviciously, as the Irish-American official spied upon her toque thewing of a fowl domesticated since the ark. Yet for the second timePeter came back, stiffly lifting his hat. 

"I only wanted to say, " he explained, "that, cinema or no cinema, Ihope, if I can be of service now or later, you will allow me theprivilege. My address---"

"I have your _sister's_, thank you, " she cut his words short as with apair of scissors. "That's the same thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, " he answered heavily--perhaps guiltily. And this time he wasgone for good. 

"What a neat expression, " thought Winifred. "Gone for good!"

It sounded like a long time. 

CHAPTER VI

THE HANDS WITH THE RINGS

Peter Rolls, Jr. , unlike his father, had practically no talent forrevenge. In common with every warm-blooded creature lower than theangels, he could be fiercely vindictive for a minute or two--longenough, when a small boy, to give a bloody nose and to get one; longenough, at all ages, to want to hit a man, thoroughly smash him, perhaps, or even to kick him into the middle of next week; long enoughto feel that he would like to make a woman sorry that she had beenrude. 

But there was always a spiritual and mental reckoning of a painfuldescription: a soul's housecleaning which turned him out of doors amiserable waif; and it invariably came too soon, before he had hadtime to gloat over the blood on another boy's nose, or a man'shumiliation, or a woman's repentant blush. Instead of heartilydisliking people for the spiteful things they sometimes did, he wasapt to turn round and wonder if the fault had not been his; if he werenot the abysmal beast. 

He had not half repaid Winifred Child for her rudeness with hiscoldness, yet no sooner was he in the huge gray automobile--whichcould comfortably have seated eight instead of six--than he felt apang of remorse, exactly like a gimlet twisting through his heart fromtop to bottom. 

"I oughtn't to have left her like that!" he reproached himself. "Iought to have hung around and seen that everything went all right. Shesaid she had the address of a good, cheap boarding-house. But it mayhave changed. Or it may be full. And, anyway, how will she get there?She ought to take a cab. But will she? And if she does, won't she falldead at the price? I ought to have warned the poor child. There areshoals of tips I might have put her up to if I hadn't always beentalking about myself. What if she _was_ cross? There must have been areason. I must have done something she didn't feel like pointing outwhen I asked. What I don't know about women would make threeencyclopedias. "

It was too late, however, to act upon second thoughts which might ormight not be "best. " Peter was in the automobile, and it had started. Even if he went back, it would doubtless be only to find Miss Childgone. He tried to console himself with the fact that Ena had been niceto the girl, and that Miss Child had said--or anyhow intimated--thatshe would write. If she didn't, he could, at worst, find out herwhereabouts by going to Nadine. Superior as Miss Child was to theother dryads, she would surely keep up communication with them. MissDevereux was the sort who might lunch with him on the strength of "oldfriendship. " He would give her oysters and orchids, and find out howthings were going with the girl who had left her dryadhood behind thecabin door. 

He tried to console himself with these arguments, but the pleasure ofhomecoming was spoiled. Father did not show any very exuberant joy atseeing him again, and it was disappointing to a warm-hearted natureif people were not exuberant, even for a minute, when you had beenaway for months. 

The automobile, with its gray-silk cushions, its immense plate-glasswindows, its travelling boudoir of mirrors, gold scent bottles, andother idiocies, its bouncing bouquet of fresh violets, its electricfittings, its air pillow embroidered with silver monograms and crests, its brocade-lined chinchilla rugs, tricky little extra seats, andmarvellous springs, struck Peter as disgustingly ostentatious. 

He wondered what Raygan and his mother and sister would think of folksin a democratic country using chinchilla for automobile rugs; and hewas sure they must be having interior hysterics over the Rolls coat ofarms--a dragon holding up a spiky crown of some nondescript sort on acushion. The dragon looked rather like a frog rampant, and the crownedcushion bore a singular resemblance to a mushroom with an angryladybird on its apex. How this family insignia had been obtained Peterdid not know. His ribald questions had been treated by his sister withsilent scorn. He would not be surprised if Ena had designed the thingherself!

As the car smoothly bowled Peter out of Winifred Child's life, awaytoward the Long Island manor house and the welcome mother would give, the deposed dryad was having her first experience of New York. 

She parted company on the pier with Nadine (in private life LadyDarling), Nadine's manageress, Miss Sorel, and the quartet of models. They had almost forgotten her before they had gone two blocks"uptown"; and she had no reason to remember any of them withaffection, except, perhaps, Miss Sorel, a relative of her one-timedressmaker who had "got her the job. "

Win had heard that the cost of cabs was "something awful" in America, but she said to herself: "Just this first time I _must_ have one. " Abad night and the scene with Peter had dimmed the flame of hercourage, and she felt a sinking of the heart instead of a sense ofadventure in the thought of taking a "trolley. " She would be sure tolose herself in searching for the boarding-house. 

Her luggage--checked and in the hypnotic power of a virileexpressman--had already vanished. It would arrive at its destinationahead of her. Perhaps there was no room there. In that case it wouldbe sent away. Dreadful picture! False economy not to take a cab! Winsupposed that a taxi would be no dearer than the horse variety and onewould sooner learn the secrets of the future. 

One of these secrets began to hint at its own hideous nature withevery convulsive tick of the metre. It hiccuped nickels, and as Win'sterrified eyes, instead of taking in New York, watched the spendthriftcontrivance yelping for her dollars, she remembered that she owned buttwo hundred. She had had to be "decent" about tips on board. But fortypounds--two hundred dollars--had looked magnificent in her hand bagthat morning. Paper money spread itself in such a lordly manner andseemed able to buy so many separate things. But by the time themerciless taxi had bumped her through devious ways up to Fifty-FourthStreet, three of the beautiful green dollar bills were as good asgone. 

She longed to pray "Oh, _do_ stop taxying!" at the doorstep before shedarted up to inquire whether Miss Hampshire still kept theboarding-house; and it was maddening to hear that "teuf, teuf"desperately going on, chewing its silver cud, in the long pause beforean answer came to the bell. 

A black woman who flung open the door was startling as ajack-in-the-box for the English girl. Win had thought of Americannegroes but vaguely, as a social problem in the newspapers or dearcreatures in Thomas Nelson Page's books. What with the surprise andthe nervous strain of the disappearing dollars, she asked no furtherquestions after the welcome news that Miss Hampshire existed and had a"room to rent. " Hastily she paid off the chauffeur, adding somethingfor himself (it seemed like tipping the man at the guillotine) andbreathed again only when her trunk and dressing-bag blocked the narrowhall. 

"I'm sure I don't see whoever's goin' to tote them things up to thethird story, " sighed the female jack-in-the-box, who was, after all, more purple than black when you looked closely, an illusion producedby a dusting of pink powder over a dark surface. "And how do I knowMiss Hampshire'll _take_ you?"

"But you said there was a room. " The freeborn independence of a wholenation, irrespective of colour, shocked the effete stranger's breathaway. She gasped slightly. 

"Yeh. But that ain't to say you can have it. Miss Hampshire's mightypertickler about her woman boarders, " explained the purple lady. "Youcatched me all of a heap or I wouldn't o' let that feller slam yerthings into the house and git away. You'll have to wait till I callMiss Hampshire. _She'll_ talk to you. "

"Tell her I was recommended by Miss Ellis, from London who boardedhere three years ago, " Win desperately tossed after a disappearingfigure. 

It was a mortifying commentary upon her personal appearance not to beinvited to wait in the drawing-room, and Miss Child wondered whatforeign strangeness in hat, hair arrangement, or costume had excitedsuspicion. She did not know whether to be more angry or amused, butrecalled her own motto, "Laugh at the world to keep it from laughingfirst. "

Suddenly the episode became part of an adventure, a great and wildlyfunny adventure, of which she was dying to see the next part. How shewould love to tell Mr. Balm of Gilead! How his eyes would twinkle!But--there was no Mr. Balm of Gilead in this or any world. It was adreary hall she stood in, with varnished brown paper pretending to beoak panels, a long-armed hatrack that would have made an idealscarecrow, and ghosts of past dinners floating up from below withgloomy warnings. 

From the same region came Miss Hampshire, smelling slightly of Irishstew. She was pale with the pallor which means shut windows andfurnace heat, a little sharp-nosed, neat-headed woman in brown, whoseextraordinarily deep-set eyes were circled with black, like spectaclerims. She was graciously willing to accept a guest recommended by MissEllis, hinting that, as she was of British ancestry, the English forher came under the favoured nation clause. 

"To _you_ the room with board'll be ten dollars a week, " she said withflattering emphasis. "A well-known poetess has just left it to bemarried. It's not large, but, being at the back of the house, it'snice and quiet. "

When Win was shown the third-floor back hall bedroom she saw thateven a poetess of passion might have snapped at her first proposal. AsMiss Hampshire said, it was not large; but there was the advantage ofbeing able to reach anything anywhere while sitting on the bed, andunless the people six feet distant in a back room of the oppositehouse snored at night it ought to be quiet. 

Win christened her room the "frying pan, " because to search foranother boarding-house might be jumping into the fire. And luckily hertrunk would just squeeze under the bed. 

"I suppose it would be no use calling on a business man before threeo'clock?" She applied to Miss Hampshire for advice when she hadunpacked her toothbrush and a few small things for which she couldfind niche or wall space. 

"Before three? And why not?" The pale lady opened her eyes in theirdark caverns. 

"Why, I only thought they wouldn't be back in their offices fromluncheon, " explained the English girl. 

"When you know a little more about N'York, " replied Miss Hampshire, whose manner was involuntarily less mellow when she had hooked a fish, "you'll see why it could never be run as it is along _those_ lines. Many of our most prominent business men consider a piece of pie with atumbler of milk a good and sufficient lunch, and it takes them fiveminutes to swallow it. "

Primed with this information and intricate instructions concerningstreet cars (a child once burned dreads a taxi), Winifred started outsoon after her own midday meal, eaten in a basement dining-room. 

She went first to see the editor; for somehow newspaper reportingseemed more congenial to the vivid New York climate than singing in achurch choir, and the hugeness of the _To-day and To-morrow_ buildingturned her again into a worm. It did not so much scrape the sky assoar into it, and when she timidly murmured the words "editorialoffices" she was shot up to the top in an elevator as in aperpendicularly directed catapult. 

When the fearsome thing stopped she had the sensation that her headalone had arrived, the rest had been shed on the way, but in a largeopen space furnished with roll-top desks and typewriters and men andgirls she was looked at as though nothing unusual had happened. 

"A letter of introduction for Mr. Burritt?" repeated a young man witha whimsical expression. "I'm afraid you'll have to go higher up todeliver it. "

"I thought I'd got to the top, " said Win. "Or"--and she tried to catchthe office note of sprightliness--"does he inhabit a roof garden?"

The young man smiled. "He used to be fond of them after office hours. But not being a spiritualist, I haven't heard from him concerning hispresent habits. "

"He is--dead?"

"That's about it, " said the young man. "A year ago. But he was onlyour city editor, so maybe he didn't get a black border in your Englishpapers. "

Miss Child did not ask how one knew that she was English. Sherecovered herself, thought of taking leave, and then decided not to beprecipitate. Instead, she inquired if she could see any other editor. 

"Which other have you got a letter to?" the young man temporized. 

"None. But---"

"Then I'm afraid it's no use without an appointment. Anyhow, thisisn't the right hour to snapshot editors of daily papers. They'renight-blooming flowers. Would you like to try for an appointment withMr. Shaw, Burritt's successor?"

Win thanked him, but thought it would be no use. She would have likedto walk down, only there seemed to be no stairs. A merry youth who ranthe nearest elevator asked if she would care to use the fire-escape. 

The address of Mr. Noble, the organist, was that of a private house. It was a far cry from _To-day and To-morrow_, up in the hundreds, andMiss Hampshire had told Miss Child to take the elevated. Easier saidthan done. You could go up the steps and reach a platform on top ofthe improved Roman viaduct, but there were so many other people intenton squeezing through the iron gate and onto the uptown train--peoplefar more indomitable than yourself--that nothing happened except theslam, slam of that gate in your face. 

At last, however, Miss Child was borne along with a rush from behindand found herself swinging back and forth like a pendulum on a strapwhich she clutched wildly. Men in America were supposed to jump up andgive women their seats, but there were no men in this train. It waspeopled with women who had been shopping, and who carried bundles. Many went on so far that Win began to believe they were taking a jauntfor fun, especially as they did not seem at all tired, but chewedsomething unremittingly with an air of calm delight. This was, perhaps, what Americans called a "joy ride!"

There seemed to be no end to New York, and vistas of cross streetslooked so much alike that Win did not wonder they were named only withnumbers. She wanted One Hundred and Thirty-Third Street, and Mr. Noble's house was a long way from the elevated station. When she foundit at last it was only to learn that six months ago the organist hadaccepted a position in Chicago. And New York seemed twice as big, twice as absent-minded, when both letters of introduction had failed. 

Win had often tried to check her tendency to over-optimism by tellingherself that neither Mr. Burritt nor Mr. Noble might have work togive. But Miss Ellis (now comfortably married in London) had said theywere kind men. If they had nothing to offer, they would certainlyintroduce Miss Child to some one who had. It had never occurred to herthat they might thoughtlessly have died or gone elsewhere. Editors andorganists seemed so importantly permanent to the lay mind. 

This was indeed being alone in New York! And at the very thought--nowshe could guess what it might be like--her one hundred and ninety-sixdollars and twenty-eight cents seemed to be shrinking in the wash. 

"Nonsense!" said she, on the elevated again, tearing downtown. "Don'tbe a silly. Any one would think you were the leading lady in amelodrama, turned out of the house without your hat, in a snowstormthat followed you round the stage like a wasp! You'll be all right. Miss Ellis told you they _loved_ English girls in New York. Just youwait till to-morrow, my dear!"

The rest of the day she spent in the frying pan, "pulling herselftogether, " and "seeing where she stood, " a process consisting mostlyof counting her greenbacks and comparing them with their equivalent inEnglish money. After all, there was not too much time for this mentaladjustment of things, because, being late in October, darkness fellearly, and Miss Hampshire's boarders dined at six-thirty. Promptnesswas obligatory if you were a female. A little more latitude--a raisingof the eyebrows instead of a frown--was granted if you were fortunateenough to be of the opposite sex. Miss Hampshire's sad smile seemed toconcede that men had temptations. 

There were bank clerks and schoolteachers and translators though nomore poetesses; and everybody was kind to the new boarder, theEnglishwoman, especially in telling her all about New York. 

"What do you think of Broadway?" asked her neighbour a handsome youngGerman Jew, who was more insistently American than any of those nativeborn. 

Win was shamefacedly not sure whether she had seen it. 

"Not sure whether you have seen _Broadway_!" exclaimed Mr. Löwenfeld. "Wait till you've been on the Great White Way after dark. _Then_ Iguess you won't make any mistake. "

"Is it so wonderful?" she asked. 

"I should smile! There's nothing like it on earth. Would you like towalk out and see it to-night? Miss Secker and I'll take you, if youwould, won't we, Miss Secker?"

"Only too pleased, " rather shrilly replied a fair-haired girl on hisother side--a pretty girl in eyeglasses who, Miss Hampshire hadannounced, was "translating secretary" for a firm of toy importers. Somehow the tone suggested to Win an incipient engagement of marriageand jealousy of new importations. 

But Mr. Löwenfeld had spoken no more than the truth. Broadway atnight, seen as a pedestrian at the side of Miss Secker, wasastonishing, was marvellous, was unique. The whole sky was alight andpulsing with its magnificence. Twenty moons would not have beennoticed. Everything that could happen was happening by electricity. Itwas Crystal Palace Fireworks, and the Lord Mayor's Show, andCoronation, and Mafeking, and naval manoeuvres with searchlights, allflashing and flaming, blazing and gyrating at the same time. Broadwaygleamed white as the north pole, jewelled with rainbow colours, amazing rubies, emeralds, topazes, grouped in letters or formingpictures on invisible frames rising high above tall buildings orappearing on their façades. 

Green sea waves billowed brightly, a giant cat winked golden eyes, twobrilliant boxers fought an endless round, a dazzling girl put on andtook off illuminated gloves; a darky's head, as big as a balloon, atea special brand of pickled melon; a blue umbrella opened and shut; agreat gilded basket dropped ruby roses (Buy them at Perrin Frères); aJapanese Geisha, twice life-size, told you where to get kimonos; atrout larger than a whale appeared and disappeared on a patent hook;and above all, brighter than all, rose against the paling sky fromsomewhere behind Broadway a pair of titanic hands. 

These hands fascinated Win. They beckoned her gaze and held it. Slowlythey came up and drew attention to themselves, silently filching itfrom Broadway's emblems of business success. The stranger in New Yorkstopped involuntarily as if hypnotized, watching for the ten colossaloutspread fingers to materialize on their unseen frames; to becomehands, with wrists and upraised arms; and then to drop out of sight, like the last appeal for help of a drowning Atlas who had lost hisgrip on the globe. 

Yet this immense, arresting gesture was never the last. Three secondsgone, then blazing back again, came fingers, hands, wrists, arms. Andon every one of the ten fingers (including thumbs) flashed a hugering, each different from the other in colour and design. Each ringwas adorned with a jewelled letter, and as the hands reached towardthe zenith the colour of the rings changed rapidly twice. It wasimpossible to remove the eyes from this sign until the gesture pageanthad completed itself. To the lost dryad New York seemed dominated byPeter Rolls's Hands. 

CHAPTER VII

THE TWO PETERS

The hands of Peter Rolls!

They had Winifred Child's imagination in their grip. Sleeping andwaking, she saw the glitter of their rings. For on her first night inNew York Mr. Löwenfeld told her a story about the hands. 

They were the hands of Peter senior. His commercial genius had spreadthem across the sky to beckon the public to his great new departmentstore on Sixth Avenue. Just as at the beginning of the gesture you sawonly the tips of the fingers, so Peter Rolls, Sr. , had begun with atiny flicker, the first groping of his inspiration feeling its way tosuccess. 

Everybody in the United States had heard of Peter Rolls, or it was notthe fault of the magazines and Sunday papers. Peter Rolls had been foryears one of the greatest advertisers in America. Mr. Winfield didn'tsee how, even on a remote little island like England, Miss Child couldhave escaped hearing about Peter Rolls's hands. This had now becomethe snappy way of saying that you intended to shop at Peter Rolls'sstore: "I'm going to the Hands. " "I'll get that at the Hands. " AndPeter Rolls had emphasized the phrase on the public tongue by hismethod of advertising. 

Each advertisement that appeared took the same form--a square spaceheavily outlined in black or colour, held up by a pair of ringedhands, facsimiles in miniature of his famous sky sign. And the severalthousand salespeople in the huge store were slangily nicknamed "PeterRolls's hands. " But naturally these insignificant morsels of the greatmosaic were not spelled with a capital H, unless, perhaps bythemselves, and once when a vaudeville favourite sang a song, "I'm aHand, I'm a Hand. " It was a smart song, and made a hit; but PeterRolls was said to have paid both the star and the management. 

Apparently nothing concerning Peter Rolls, Sr. , and his family washidden from Mr. Löwenfeld and Miss Seeker, although they claimed nopersonal acquaintance with the great. Probably, if Win had asked, theycould have told how many servants Mrs. Rolls kept and how many casesof champagne her husband ordered in a year. But questions wereunnecessary. The subject of a self-made millionaire was a fascinatingone to the lately naturalized German. 

Peter Rolls, Sr. , had emigrated from the north of Ireland as a youngboy. He had contrived to buy a few cheap odds and ends likely toattract women buried in the country far from shops. He had somehowknown exactly what odds and ends to select. That was genius; and hehad coined money as a peddler. In his wandering life he madeacquaintance with many tramps and saw how he might make even thelowest useful. After a few years he scraped up enough capital to starta small store in New York, far downtown, where rents were cheap. 

Like his peddler's pack, the store was stocked with odds and ends. But again they were just the right odds and ends, the odds and endsthat every one in that neighbourhood wanted and had never been able toobtain under one roof. No article cost less than five cents, none morethan a dollar, and it was marvellous what Peter Rolls could afford tosell for a dollar. 

"I Can Furnish Your Flat for Ten Dollars. Why? Because I Work with MyOwn Hands, " was Peter Rolls's first advertisement. And the Hands hadnever lost their cunning since. 

He could undersell any other shopkeeper in New York because he got hissalesmen for next to nothing. They were a judicious selection fromamong his friends, the tramps. Any man who could recall enough of hisschooling to do a little sum in addition was eligible. He was fed, clothed, tobaccoed, judiciously beered, watched all day while at work, and shut up at night in a fireproof, drink-proof cubicle. The planproved a brilliant success. The little store downtown became a bigone, and grew bigger and bigger, swallowing all the other stores inits block; and it was now ten years since the great Sixth Avenuedepartment store, which could call itself the largest in New York, wasopened under the benediction of the Hands. 

Winifred had fancied, because of the balm which was making a fortune, that Peter Rolls, Sr. , was some sort of a glorified chemist. But Mr. Löwenfeld roared at this idea. The Balm of Gilead was only one of thelucky hits in the drug department, in itself as big as a good-sizedprovincial store. The Hands sold everything, and though the trampswere long ago dead or abolished, Peter Rolls still undersold everyother store in New York. How did he do it? Well--there were ways. The hands without a capital H might tell, perhaps; but they did nottalk much. Peter Rolls never had any difficulty in obtaining orkeeping as many of them as he wanted, and could get double the numberif he liked. 

"Does he still 'work with his own hands?'" quoted Win at last, feelinghalf guilty, as if she ought not to ask questions about Peter's fatherbehind Peter's back. But the affairs of the Rolls family seemed to bepublic property. Mr. Löwenfeld and Miss Seeker both laughed. 

"I should love, " said the latter, "to see Ena Rolls's face if herfather _did_ work! She spells their name with an 'e'--R-o-l-l-e-s--andhopes the smart set on Long Island, where their new palace is, won'trealize they're the Hands. Isn't it ridiculous? Like an ostrich hidingits head in the sand. She runs her father and mother socially. I guessthe old man hardly dares put his nose inside the store, except aboutonce a year; and Ena and the old lady never buy a pin there. As forthe young fellow, they say he doesn't bother: hates business and wantsto be a philanthropist or something outlandish on his own. I shouldsay to him, if he asked _me_: 'Charity begins at home. '"

Those last two sentences spoken by Miss Emma Seeker on WinifredChild's first night in New York had as direct an effect upon thegirl's life as if the ringed hands had come down out of the sky andclutched her dress. She did not attach much importance to the words atthe time, except to think it snobbish of Miss Rolls and weak of hermother never to show themselves under the roof where their fortune wasbeing piled up. Also, she thought it disappointing of Peter junior notto "bother" about the business which had been his father's life work. But then Peter was altogether disappointing, as Miss Rolls (with an"e") had disinterestedly warned her. 

It was not until Win had been in New York for a month that theinfluence of Miss Seeker's words made itself felt, and the Hands gavetheir twitch at the hem of her dress. They had been on her mind oftenenough during the four weeks--morning, noon, and night--but she hadnever known that she was physically within touching distance. 

The "happy omen" of getting her passage to New York free had stoppedworking on the _Monarchic_. Since then bad luck had walked after herand jumped onto her lap and purred on her pillow, exactly like a catthat persistently clings to a person who dislikes it. All thepositions which she was competent to fill were filled already. Onlythose she could not undertake seemed to be open. She tried to sing, she tried to teach, she tried to report news, she tried to be apublisher's reader, and to get work in a public library. She tried tomake hats, she tried to act, but nobody wanted her to do any of thesethings, unless, perhaps, she went away and trained hard for a year. When matters began to look desperate, and not till then, she appliedto Nadine. 

But Lady Darling had gone back to England, and Miss Sorel, not havingrecovered her health after the great tossing at sea, had been replacedby a brand-new American manageress. No more models were wanted. Therewas nothing that Miss Child could do, and the only result of her visitwas delight in the heart of Miss Devereux because "that queer Childgirl was laughing on the wrong side of her mouth. " The new manageresswas so preoccupied in manner and so sure that Miss Child's serviceswould not be needed that Win did not even leave her address. Besides, as it happened, she had given Miss Hampshire "notice, " and had not yetfound another boarding-house. 

"I think I ought to try to get into a cheaper place, " she explained. And that was a reason; but another, just as important, was pretty MissSeeker's jealousy because Mr. Löwenfeld talked too much to the Englishgirl at the table. 

After all, the best that Win could accomplish after three days' dismalsearch was a saving of two dollars a week. For eight dollars shesecured a fourth-story back hall bedroom half as big and half as cleanas Miss Hampshire's, and she laughed aloud to find herself feelingdesperately homesick for the "frying pan. " For Win could still laugh. 

It was counting her money, the day after a servant at the newboarding-house stole twenty dollars, that whisked Miss Child's skirtwithin reach of the Hands. Things could not go on like this. She mustget something to do at once--no matter what. Another girl in thathouse bought newspapers for the sake of the employment notices. Winifred borrowed the papers and answered many of the most attractiveoffers in vain. Next she tried the less attractive ones. When theywere used up--and she also--she came down to what she called bed rock. 

In bed rock were advertisements of several large stores for extra helpthrough the holiday season. Of these Peter Rolls's store was at thehead. "The Hands want hands, " was part of the appeal, and Wininstantly turned to something else. It was not until she had appliedfor work at six other shops, and found herself too late at all, thatit began to seem faintly possible for her to think of going to PeterRolls's father's store. 

When the idea did knock at the door of her mind hesitatingly as Peterjunior used to knock at the dryad door, the Hands' advertisement forhelp was the last of its kind in the papers. The Hands needed morehands than any of the other stores. 

When Win was just about to say to herself, "That's the one thing Icouldn't do, " she remembered Miss Seeker's words. Miss Rolls ruled herfather and mother socially. Peter senior was allowed to show his nosein the place only about once a year. Mrs. And Miss Rolls never boughta pin there. Young Peter didn't bother, but wanted to be aphilanthropist. In fact, you would, apparently, be far more likely tomeet a member of the Rolls family in any other shop than their own. 

Instead of saying that she could not, Win said: "Why shouldn't I?" Shetold herself that in a vast house of business which employed over twothousand salespeople she would be a needle in a haystack--a needlewith a number, not a name. "I'll go and ask for a place, " she answeredher own question. 

But almost she hoped that she would not succeed. If she tried, failurewould not be her fault. 

CHAPTER VIII

NO. 2884

Morning and girl were gray with cold as Win hovered before the vastexpanse of plate glass which made of Peter Rolls's department store acrystal palace. Customers would not be admitted for an hour, yet thelovely wax ladies and the thrilling wax men in the window world worethe air of never having stopped doing their life work since they wereappointed to it. 

But then they had a life work of the most charming description. Winifred envied them. It was indeed their business to make all men, women, and children who passed envy them enough to stop, enter thestore, and purchase things to make real life as much as possible likelife in the window world. 

All the nicest things which could be done in the strenuous outsideworld could in a serene and silent way be done in window world. Andthe lovely ladies and their thrilling men had not to hustle from onecorner of the earth to another in order to find different amusements. 

In one section of plate-glass existence beautiful girls were beingdressed by their maids for a ball. Some were almost ready to start. Exquisite cloaks were being folded about their shoulders byfascinating French soubrettes with little lace caps like dabs ofwhipped cream. Other willowy creatures were lazy enough to be still infilmy "princess" petticoats and long, weblike, silk corsetsensheathing their figures nearly to their knees. A realisticdressing-table, a lace-canopied bed, and pale-blue curtains formedtheir background. Instead of having to rush half across New York tothe dance, it was apparently taking place next door, with only a thinpartition as a wall. 

In a somewhat Louis Seize room several wondrous wax girls and the samenumber of young men, with extremely broad shoulders and slender hips, were dancing a decorous tango. But, if they tired of that, they hadonly to move on a section, to find a party of four young peopleplaying tennis in appropriate costumes against a trellis of crimsonramblers. Strange to say, a mere wall divided this summer scene fromsports in the high Alps. There was gorgeous fun going on in thisportion of window world, where men and girls were skeeing, tobogganing, and snowballing each other in deep cotton snow. Next doorthey were skating on a surface so mirrorlike that, in fact, it _was_ amirror. 

A little farther on a young wax mother of no more than eighteen was ina nursery, caressing an immense family of wax children of all ages, from babyhood up to twelve years. A grandmother was there, too, and ahospital nurse, and several playful dogs and cats. In another housethey were having a Christmas tree, and Santa Claus had come in personto be master of ceremonies. How the children on the other side of apartition, engaged in learning lessons at school desks, must haveenvied those whose Christmas had prematurely come! But best of all wasthe automobile race; or, perhaps, the zoo of window world, whereTeddy bears and Teddy monkeys and Teddy snakes and Teddy everythingsdisported themselves together among trees and flowers in Peter Rolls'sconception of Eden. 

Win had often glanced into these windows before, hurrying nervouslypast, but now she lingered, trying to fill her heart with the waxenpeace of that luxurious land of leisure. She walked very slowly allaround the great square, three sides of which were crystal, the fourthbeing given up to huge open doors, through which streamed men andparcels and hurled themselves into motor vans. The idea flashed intothe girl's head that here was the cemetery of window land. In thosebig boxes and packages that men furiously yet indifferently carriedout, were the dolls or animals that had smiled or romped behind theplate glass, or the dresses and hats, the tennis rackets and toboggansthey had fondly thought their own. 

This promenade of inspection and introspection put off the evil minutefor a while; but the time came when Win must hook herself on to thetail of a procession constantly entering at an inconspicuous sidedoor, or else go home with the project abandoned. 

"_Of course_ I shall never see Peter Rolls or his sister here, " shetold herself for the twentieth time, and passed through the dooralmost on the back of an enormous young man, while a girl closed inbehind her with the intimacy of a sardine. 

"Gee! Get on to the tall Effect in brown!" murmured a voice. 

"Ain't she the baby doll?" another voice wanted to know. 

Winifred heard, and realized that she was the Effect and baby doll inquestion. She flushed, and her ears tingled. She thought of theArabian Nights tale, where the searcher after the Golden Water waspestered by voices of those who had been turned to black stones on theway. 

When the cue of tightly packed men and women had advanced along acorridor on the other side of the doorway, it began mounting afireproof staircase. Up and up it went, slowly, steadily rising fromstory to story, but it did not spread across the whole width of thewide, shallow steps. Other men and women, in single file and with noattention to order, pushed themselves down, the ascending gangflattening them against the varnished, green wall as they sneakedhastily past. No one spoke to Win or told her anything (though the bigfellow in front threw her a jovial glance when she trod on his heel, and she herself ventured a look at the rear sardine), but she knewsomehow that the irregular, descending procession was the defeatedarmy in flight; those who "would not do. " She wondered if she shouldbe among them after a few hours of vain waiting and standing on herfeet. 

Seven flights of stairs she counted, and then she and those in frontand behind debouched into a corridor much longer than that at theentrance on the ground floor. 

"They might have shot us up in the customers' lifts!" snapped thesardine who had just detached herself from Winifred's spine. "'Twouldhave saved their time and our tempers. "

"They don't spend money putting up fireproof staircases for nothing, "mumbled a voice over the sardine's shoulder. "They want to give us afree exhibition of an emergency exit. But it'll be the only thing weever will get free here. "

"Except maybe the sack--or the bounce, " tittered the sardine. 

There was something likable about that sardine. Win felt drawn to her, which was fortunate in the circumstances. 

Nearer and nearer they approached, with a kind of shuffle step, to anoffice whose whole front consisted of window. This window was raised, and electric light streaming out brightened that distant end of theotherwise economically lit corridor. The advance guard of would-behands stepped one at a time in front of a counter which took the placeof a window ledge. Now and then a girl or a man was kept for severalmoments talking to a person whom Win could not yet see; a kind of godin the machine. This halt delayed the procession and meant that a handwas being engaged; but oftener than not the pause was short, and thelook on the late applicant's face as he or she turned to scurry backlike a chased dog along the corridor told its own story. 

Win read each human document, as a page opened and then shut foreverunder her eyes, with a sick, cold pang for the tragedy of theunwanted. She ceased to feel that she was alien to these young men andwomen, because they were American and she English. A curiousimpression thrilled through her that she and these others and alldwellers on earth were but so many beads threaded on the sameglittering string, that string the essence of the Creator, uniting allif they but knew it. 

The realization that hearts near hers were beating with hope or dread, or sinking with disappointment, was so keen that the heavy air of theplace became charged for Win with the electricity of emotion. She feltwhat all felt in a strange confusion; and when a stricken face wentby, it was she, Winifred Child, who was stricken. What happened toothers suddenly mattered just as much and in exactly the same degreeas what might happen to her. The weight of sadness and wearinesspressed upon her. The smell of unaired clothes and stale, cheapperfumes made her head ache. 

"Tired, girlie?" inquired the big young man on whose broad back Winhad involuntarily reposed on the way upstairs She was startled at thismanner of address, but the brotherly benevolence on the square faceunder a thick brushwood of blond hair reassured her. Evidently"girlie" was the right word in the right place. 

"Not so very. Are you?" She felt that conversation would be a relief. It was intensely cold yet stuffy in the corridor, and time seemedendless. 

"Me? Huh! Bet yer my place yer can't guess what my job was up to amonth ago. "

He turned a strongly cut profile far over his shoulder, his headpivoting on a great column of throat above a low, loose collar thathad a celluloid gleam where the light touched it. Only one eye and thetransparent gleam of another cornea were given to Winifred's view, butthat one green-gray orb was as compelling as a dozen ordinary seeingapparatuses. 

"If I guessed what's in my mind, I'm afraid it would be silly, " saidWin. "You look as if you might be a--a boxer--or---"

"Or what?"

"Or as if you could train things--animals, I mean---"

"Gee-whittaker! If she ain't hit it square in the jaw first round! Goup ahead, little girl. This is where I move down one. "

The sardines were now so loose in their partially emptied box thatthey could wriggle and even change positions if they liked. The bigyoung man wheeled, passed his arm round Winifred's waist as if for awaltz, half lifted her off her feet, and set her down where he hadbeen. 

"Good gracious!" she gasped. 

"That's what you get for bein' a bright child, " he explained "Theplace is yours. See? If Peter Rolls wants only one more hand when yourturn comes, you're it, and I'm left. I was lion man in Jakes's andBoon's show, but my best lion died on me, and that kind o' got mygoat. Guess my nerve went; and then brutes is as quick as fleas tojump if they feel you don't know where you are for once. That shop isshut for yours truly, so I'm doin' my darnedest to get another. IfPeter Rolls can use me, he can have me dirt cheap. I want to feed myface again. It needs it!"

"You give Father one straight look between the eyes, " suggested thesardine, now at his back, "sort of as if he was a lion, and I'd bet mybottom dollar, if I had one, he dasn't hand you the frosty mitt. "

"Who's Father?" the lion tamer threw over his shoulder Win had longedto ask the same question, but had not liked to betray herself as anamateur. 

"Oh, I forgot this was your first party! Wish 'twas mine. Father'swhat the supe--the superintendent, the gent in the window--getshimself called by us guyls. "

"Wipe me off the map! I'm some Johnny to cost you all that breath. But gee! the thought of standin' up to him gets my goat worse 'n twicehis weight in lions. I'm mighty glad this young lady's gotta gothrough with it in front of me. Say, maybe you'll push the right bellwith him, too. "

"I hope we both may, " answered Win fervently. "It's more than kind ofyou to give me your place, but really I---"

"Ain't we the polite one?" remarked the lion tamer. "Say, girlie, you've made a hit with me. Where did you buy your swell accent?"

"Don't make fun of me, please, or I shall drop!" exclaimed Win with alaugh nipped in the bud, lest it should reach the august ear ofFather. 

This way of taking the joke appeased those within hearing, who hadperhaps believed that the tall Effect in brown thought a lot ofherself and was putting on airs. Her seeming to imply that she mightbe considered ridiculous inclined censors to leniency. 

"Have a spruce cream?" asked a girl in front, screwing her head roundto see what the Effect was like, and offering a small, flat objectabout an inch in width and two in length. 

"Thank you very much, " said Win. 

Every one near tittered good-naturedly. Perhaps it was that accentagain! Funny, thought Win. Her idea had been that Americans had anaccent, because they didn't talk like English people who had inventedthe language. Americans appeared to think it was the other way round!

She put the flat thing into her mouth and began to chew it. At firstit was very nice; sugary, with a fresh, woodsy flavour which was newto her. Presently, however, the sweetness and some of the taste meltedaway, and instead of dissolving, so that she could swallow it, thesubstance kept all its bulk and assumed a rubbery texture exactly likea doll's nose she had once bitten off and never forgotten. She cougheda little and did not quite know what to do. 

"Good heavens', she's goin' to absorb it!" ejaculated the girl infront, still twisting to gaze at the tall Effect. "Didn't you neverchew gum before?"

"Only millionaires can afford it in my country, " said Win, recoveringherself. The laugh was with her! But every sound made was _piano_. There was the feeling among the mice that this was the cat's house. 

The girl in front who had offered the chewing gum was small and justmissed being very pretty. She had curly hair of so light a red that itwas silvery at the roots. Seeing her from behind, you hoped for aradiant beauty, but she had pale, prominent eyes and a hard mouth. Winimagined that the muscles in her cheeks were overdeveloped because ofchewing too much gum. 

At last the procession had moved on so far that this girl arrived atthe lighted window. Win's heart, which had missed a beat in a suddenflurry of fear now and then, began to pound like a hammer. 

For the first time she could see the god in the machine, thesuperintendent of Peter Rolls's vast store, a kind of prime ministerwith more power than the king. She had fancied that he would be old, aman of such importance in a great establishment, a person who had thenickname of Father. But her anxious gaze, as she carefully kept herdistance, told that he was not even middle-aged. He was, it seemed, acurious mixture of cherub and Mephistopheles in type: round faced, blue eyed, with smooth cheeks that looked pink even in the cruelelectric light. His hair and brushed-up eyebrows were thin and of amedium brown; but he had a sharply waxed moustache and a littlepointed goatee or "imperial" so much darker in colour that they wereconspicuous objects. 

He was talking to the girl in a high-keyed yet somewhat blusteringvoice, asking questions which Win could not and did not try to hear. The answers were given purposely in a low tone, and the girl laid onthe counter several papers from a little black bag at her waist. Thesethe superintendent took up, unfolding them with plump, dimpledfingers, like those of a young woman. 

With his bright, glancing blue eyes he skimmed the contents of eachpaper--probably references, thought Win--and then returned them totheir owner. 

"These are no good, " he pronounced in a louder voice than before. "Andyou don't look strong enough for Christmas work---"

Suddenly the red-haired girl darted her head forward, like that of apecking bird, hastily muttered a few words, and drew back, as ifhoping that those not concerned might fail to notice the manoeuvre. 

"Oh--er--that's different, " said the superintendent in an odd, uncomfortable tone, with the hint of "bluster" still in it. Winfancied she heard him add: "What salary?" In any case, the girlmentioned the sum of eight dollars, and at the same time scribbledsomething on a printed paper form pushed over the counter. 

"Bet that ain't _your_ line, kid, " there came a murmur round thecorner of a velvet bow on Win's hat. So faint was the murmur that shemight almost have dreamed it; but, if uttered, it must have droppedfrom heaven or the lion tamer's lips. 

Win was burning with curiosity. What two or three talismanic wordscould the red-haired girl have whispered so quietly, so secretively, to change in a second the superintendent's decision? It was almostlike freemasonry. You whispered to the hangman, and he, realizing thatyou were a member, took the noose off your neck!

Alas, if Father refused her services, as he almost surely would, shehad no such magic charm to make him change his mind! There wascertainly a mystery, a secret password that did the trick; but thelion tamer, though a newcomer in this business like herself, appearedto know or guess, and bet that it "wasn't in her line. "

Too late to ask questions! Her time had come. The red-haired girl, looking prettier than before because of a bright flush on her sallowface, pranced away, head triumphantly up, and a key and a queer littlebook in her hand. 

Before Win realized what was happening she stood before the big, lighted window, longing though not daring to rest her trembling elbowson the counter. The cherubic yet keen blue eyes were staring into herswith the oddest expression she had ever seen. If the man had not beenan important official, far above her (he would have thought) inposition, Win might have fancied that he was afraid of her, afraid ofsomething which he half expected, half dreaded, wishing to avert it, yet likely to be mortified if it did not come. 

"I must be out of my mind, " she told herself, at the same time tellinghim that she desired an engagement as an extra hand. 

"What references?" he inquired, with the mechanical intonation of onewho has put the same question thousands of times. 

"I--haven't any, " stammered Win. "I'm lately over from England---"

"You don't need to mention that, " broke in the superintendent. "I knowLondon. Have you worked in any of the big department storesthere--Harrods' or Selfridge's?" He looked, Win thought (clinging to astraw of hope), as if he were not unwilling to help her. 

"No, none. I was a model for Nadine. I'm quick at doing figures---"

"The figures that models _cut_ are more to the point, I guess!" Thecherub Mephistopheles smiled at this joke and did not seem to carejust then that his every extra word kept the procession back an extrainstant. "We're not wanting models at present. But if you've had anyexperience as a saleslady--you look all right--well, see here, I'lltry and give you a chance. It's up to you to make good, though. Whatmoney do you want? Write it down. "

He indicated one of those forms which Win had seen. She hesitated, then felt that the blue eyes were watching her keenly. Hesitation wasnot the way to succeed in this home of hustle. She remembered thatthe red-haired girl, though she must have had experience or she wouldnot have possessed references, had said something about eight dollars. "I'll say seven, " Win told herself, and wrote accordingly on thepaper. 

"We can't pay seven dollars per week to a girl without experience, "pronounced the superintendent promptly. "If you want to take six, I'llgive you a test of character. You ought to be thankful for six. By andby you may work up into one of the departments where we paycommissions. "

"I'll take six, " Win said. 

Though already she knew something of the expense of living in NewYork, six dollars a week certainly seemed generous compared withshop-girls' wages at home. She had been told that there they got onlytwelve or fourteen shillings, and sometimes less. Of course, inEngland, you "lived in. " Win had heard that expression, and was awareof its meaning. She was not yet quite sure what you did in America, for she had talked to none of her very few acquaintances about theneed she had to look for work in a department store. There was onlyone thing she did know in that connection: it would be unwise to askFather questions. 

She must appear to be "all there, " and trust to finding out theroutine of a New York shop-girl's life from one of themselves. Shehoped the sardine would be engaged--nice, trim little sardine withsmooth black pompadour, small white face, jewel-bright eyes, pugnacious nose, determined chin! A snappy yet somehow trustworthysardine. 

Still the superintendent was observing her, as if to see whether shewere warranted sound and kind. "I'm going to put you into a bargainsquare, " said he thoughtfully. "Do you know what that means?"

"I can guess, " said she. 

"One of our two-hour bargain sales will tell better than anything elsewhether you've got stuff in you, " he went on. "Have you ever seen acheck book?" was the question now flashed at her. 

Win had just sense enough left not to blurt out any nonsense about abank. In an instant she realized that the pads upon which salespeopledid hasty sums must be called check books, anyhow in America. Sheanswered that she had seen one. 

"Know what to do with it?"

"On principle. I can soon learn the method. "

"Soon's a long word. You may have time for it, _your_ side. Wehaven't. Things have gotta be learned on the nail. See here, whatabout your dress? Are you wearing black under that jacket?"

Win's heart jumped. She had not expected, if engaged, to begin workthe next moment. She had supposed that she would be told to return thenext morning before the opening hour for customers; otherwise it mighthave occurred to her that it would be well to get a ready-made blackdress. But she must not throw away this chance which seemed to behanging in the balance. 

"No, " she answered quickly. "I thought it would be better to buysomething here when I knew just what was wanted. I can find a dresswhich will fit, I know. I always can, and I can be in it fifteenminutes from now. "

"Well, " the superintendent said with half-grudging approval that lita faint twinkle in his eyes, "you're no slow coach for anEnglishwoman. You may do. We sell 10 per cent. Off to our employees. Here's the key of your locker. Here's your check book. When you've gotyour dress, ask for the schoolroom. Take fifteen minutes' lesson onthe blackboard for making out your checks, and the rest's up to you. But look sharp. We've been open to customers for half an hour now. Atten-thirty a two-hours' bargain sale of blouses, sashes, and ladies'fancy neckwear opens on the first floor. That's yours. You must be inthe square more than half an hour before the sale begins, to see stockand learn your job. "

He eyed her sharply to see if she were "feazed. " But Win had thefeeling that a "stiff upper lip" was needed for the honour of Englandand the pluck of its womanhood. She remembered one of the stories shehad loved best as a child--the story of the task Venus set for Psychebefore she could be worthy of Cupid, the lover whose wings she hadburned with a drop of oil from her lamp. Now the girl, grown out ofchildhood, understood how Psyche had felt when told to count thegrains of wheat in Venus's granary within a certain time limit. 

"Well, anyhow, Psyche didn't ask questions, and I won't, " she said toherself. "The kind ants came and told her things: maybe the sardinewill come to me. "

Looking almost preternaturally intelligent and pleased with life, Winaccepted the key and check book, and learned with a shock that, as oneof Peter Rolls's hands, she was No. 2884. 

CHAPTER IX

THE TEST OF CHARACTER

The sardine's ears must have been sharp, for although the lion tamerwas between her and Win (like a thick chunk of ham in a thinsandwich), she had heard something of the conversation at thesuperintendent's window. 

"Try the basement bargain counters for your dress; you'll get itcheaper, " she flung after the tall Effect in a shrill whisper as thenewly engaged hand flashed by. 

There wasn't a second, or even half a second to lose, yet Winslackened her pace to say "Thank you. I do hope we shall meet again. "

Even the lion tamer threw her a look, though already he had taken histurn at the window; but Win did not see the admiring glance. She wasflying down the stairs she had come up so slowly, and did not pausefor breath until she was in the basement. There it was so crowded andso hot, though the store had been open to customers not quite an hour, that there seemed little air to breathe, even had there been time. 

Win could see no means of ventilation in the immense room, which wasbrightly and crudely lit by pulsing white globes of electricity. Therewere no partitions to divide one department from another, and itseemed as if samples of every article in the world were being sold onthese rows upon rows of heaped-up tables. 

Taking her for a customer, a floorwalker saved the bewildered girlfrom wasting more than a minute of her valuable time. The thermometerof his manner fell a degree when he learned that she was an employee;nevertheless, he directed her to the bargain counter where black dressskirts were being sold. There was another nearby which offered blacksilk and satin blouses. The man asked if she had been told that extrahands, if on probation, must give money down for anything above thefirst week's wage, and looked impressed when the tall girl answeredthat she preferred to pay cash for the whole. 

"Princess, queen!" he murmured _sotto voce_, and Win might have hadthe privilege of exchanging a smile with him on the strength of thejoke, but thought it might be wiser not to have heard. 

Luckily black skirts and blouses were not the craze of the moment. Women were besieging a beehive of corsets and a hotbed of petticoats, reduced (so said huge red letters overhead) to one third of theiroriginal price. In less than five minutes Win had secured a costumewith the right measurements, and for the two portions of which itconsisted, had paid exactly one week's salary. 

With an unwrapped parcel rolled under one arm, she battled her wayback to the staircase she had descended (not daring to squeeze herunworthy body into a crowded elevator), and toiled up to the eighthfloor. There, she had been told, were dressing-rooms as well aslockers; a rest room (converted into a schoolroom from the hour ofeight until ten), and the restaurant for women employees. 

Lightning change act first! Black Effect to take the place of brown, a rush for the dressing-room, vague impression of near marble basinsand rows of mirrors; tall, slim girl in front of one, quite the proper"saleslady" air, in new, six-dollar black skirt and silk blouselightened with sewed-in frills of white, fit not noticeably bad; dashalong corridor again for locker room, but sudden wavering pause atsight of confused group: half-fainting girl in black being handed overto capped and aproned nurse by two youths at an open door, glimpse ofiron bedsteads etched in black against varnished white wall, door shutwith slap; youths marching light heartedly away, keeping time to thesubdued whistle of "Waiting for the Robert E. Lee. "

Girls sometimes faint here, then, before ten o'clock in the morning!And quite a matter of course to shed them in the hospital room, otherwise one wouldn't try one's tango steps going away. But nevermind; laugh first, or the world will! Life easier for Peter Rolls'shands as well as other people if they can live it in ragtime. Yourturn to fall to-day. Mine to-morrow. "Waiting for the Robert E. Lee!"And whatever you may think, don't lose a minute. 

Winifred did not. Perhaps she, too, was beginning to think in ragtime. She was telling her number to the doorkeeper of the locker room as theslap of the hospital door ceased to vibrate through the long corridoron the eighth story. 

The locker room had countless rows of narrow cells with iron gratingsfor doors; and the gimlet gaze of two stalwart young females piercedeach newcomer. It was their business to see that Peter Rolls's handsdid not pilfer each other's belongings. The gimlet eyes must note theoutdoor clothing each girl wore on arrival, in order to be sure thatshe did not go forth at evening clad in the property of a comrade. Being paid to cultivate suspicion had soured the guardian angels'tempers. One had a novel by Laura Jean Libbey, the other anold-fashioned tale by Mary J. Holmes, to while away odd minutes ofleisure; but it appealed to the imagination of neither that any or allof the girls flitting in and out might be eligible heroines for theirfavourite authors, stolen at birth from parent millionaires, qualifying through pathetic struggles with poverty to become thebrides of other millionaires, or, perhaps, to win an earl or duke. 

All the regularly engaged hands had long ago shut up their hats andcloaks in prison and gone about their business. It was only the extraswho were arriving at this late hour to show their numbers and claimtheir lockers. There were comparatively few amateurs. Most of thegirls had had shop experience, but greenhorns betrayed ignorance asthey entered. To them, shortly and succinctly, were explained therules: the system of "stubs" dealt out to newcomers as they gave theirnumbers and had lockers assigned them--stubs to be religiously keptfor the protection of property from false claimants; the working of aslot machine, in which must be slipped a card, and the moment of themorning and midday arrival thus recorded with ruthless exactitude(twenty-five cents docked off your pay if you were late), and otherodds and ends of routine information, such as the hours at whichlockers might or might not be opened without the presentation ofspecial passes. 

As Win fitted her key into the grated door which would in futurepertain to No. 2884, into the locker room bounced the sardine. 

"Hello, Lady Ermyntrude!" said she. "I thought I'd pick you up someplace. Just a jiffy, and we can skip to the schoolroom together, ifyour ladyship pleases. "

"I am glad!" said Win, and as they went out side by side she venturedto add: "Please do tell me why you call me Lady Ermyntrude. I hope I'mnot like anything so awful as that?"

"Oh, there's always a Lady Ermyntrude in every English book you read, and you look as if you'd walked out of one. I don't know why, but youdo. I kind of like you, though. "

"So do I you, " said Win, but did not tell her that she was a sardine. This might be a worse epithet in a foreign language even than LadyErmyntrude. 

"I'm for the toy department. What are you?" rapped out the clearlittle voice that matched the clear little personality--a personalitywhich, at the top of its pompadour, did not reach the tip of Win'sear. 

"Mine is called a two-hour bargain sale---"

"Heaven help you! Basement?"

"No, ground floor. "

"Thank your stars. That's a cut above. Most amatoors start in thebasement bargain sales. If they live through the first day ofthat--_well!_ But you're all right. You've got the look of the oneswho win. "

"That's my name--'Win'--Winifred Child. "

"If you ain't the Champion Giant Kid! I'm Sadie Kirk. Here's theschoolroom. When it ain't that, it calls itself the rest room, youknow. I'm here only because there's a little difference in Rolls'scheck system from Bimgel's, where I worked till the grippe laid me lowand my place was filled. I thought I'd try the Hands for a change, though they say it's the _limit_ and down the other side. So me forthe school! We'll sit together, and if I can help you I will. "

"You're a dear, " whispered Win. 

"You're another. Go there yourself, " was the swift retort. 

The rest room was really very nice, if there were ever a chance torest in it--which, Miss Kirk whispered, was not likely to be the case. There were wall bookcases with glass doors, a few oak-framedengravings with a pale-green, "distempered" background, severalchintz-covered sofas with cushions, and plenty of easy chairs. 

On small tables lay very back numbers of illustrated papers andmagazines. The high windows had green curtains which softened theirglare and (said Sadie) prevented dust from showing. The brown-paintedfloor had decorative intervals of rugs, like flowery oases. Altogetherthe room would have been an excellent "show place" if any influentialmillionairess began stirring up public interest in "conditions ofshop-girl life. "

One end wall of the long, narrow room was almost entirely covered byan immense blackboard, supposed to represent a check book. In front ofthis stood a pale young man with a timid air, who coughed and clearedhis throat a good deal as he explained to a group of girls PeterRolls's specially simplified, modernly improved system of adding upthe prices of purchased "goods" in the quickest and most scientificmanner. Win listened intently, easily catching the idea, but wonderingif she should get "rattled" when she had to put it into practice inthe coming "two-hour bargain sale. " Miss Kirk, however, soon saw thatthe difference between this and other systems was not complicatedenough to trouble her, and let her wits wander from one subject toanother. 

"That's a salesman teaching, " she whispered up to her tall protégée. "He's new to the job, I guess, and scared of us guyls; but I bet hebullies men when he gets the chance! He'll tuyn out another Father. "

Win, not having forgotten her curiosity concerning the red-hairedgirl's mysterious murmur to the superintendent, longed to question thesardine, who had the air of knowing everything she ought and ought notto know. But the newcomer could not afford to lose a word that droppedfrom the nervous teacher's lips. "Do tell me about it later, " shepleaded. "I must listen to this. "

"All right. Are you lunching in or out?"

"Oh, in, I suppose. "

"So will I, then, though I hear it's filthy and the grub vile. We'lltry and make a date. "

Win dared not answer. With difficulty she caught the last part of thelecture. Then her fifteen minutes of schooling were over and the realbattle of life as one of Peter Rolls's hands was to begin. 

No time for the luxury of luncheon appointments. The two girls mustmeet or not, as luck ordained. The toy department was on the sixthfloor, so the parting came almost at once, and Win went down to meether fate alone. 

A floorwalker, or "aisle manager, " showed her the place where the"great two-hour bargain sale of coloured blouses, sashes, and ladies'fancy neckwear" was advertised to begin at ten-thirty. As he steeredthe girl through the crowd he looked at her with interest, and shewould have looked with interest at him could she have done so withouthis knowing it. She had vaguely heard that shopwalkers in Englandcould make or break the salespeople. Probably floorwalkers in Americawere the same, or more powerful, because everybody in this freecountry who had any power at all seemed to have more than he couldpossibly have anywhere else. 

This man was extremely handsome she saw in the one quick, veiledglance which can tell a girl as much as a boy is able to take in witha long stare. He was tall and dark and clean shaven, with polishedblack hair like a jet helmet, and brown eyes. Few princes could hopeto be as well dressed, and if he had been an actor, only to see hisshoulders would have made a matinée girl long to lay her head uponone. _Why_ wasn't he an actor, then, at many dollars a week, insteadof a floorwalker at a few? It must be that his fairy godmother hadforgotten to endow him with some essential talent. 

Seeing that he looked at her sympathetically with his rather sad, darkeyes, Win ventured with all respect to beg a little enlightenment asto a two-hour bargain sale. 

"It means that certain things are marked down for two hours, " heexplained, "and after that anything left of the lot goes up to the oldprice again. It's a pretty hard test for one who's new to the wholebusiness. The superintendent, Mr. Meggison, has put you on to a prettystiff thing, " he added. And then again, after an instant's pause:"You're going to land in a wasps' nest over there. There's someelectricity in the atmosphere this morning. But keep your head andyou'll be all right. "

They came within sight of a hollow square formed by four longcounters. Above it was a placard with red and black lettering whichannounced the sale to begin at half-past ten; everything to be sold atbargain price till twelve-thirty. Within were six saleswomen, two foreach side of the square; and the question flashed through Win's head:Why had she been imported to make an odd number? It was an excitingquestion, taken in connection with the floorwalker's warning. 

Until sale time these counters were out of the congested region; andthe six saleswomen were taking advantage of the lull before the stormto put finishing touches on the arrangement of the stock. The instantthat Win was inside the square it was as if she had been suddenlyswallowed up in a thunder cloud. The head saleswoman (she must bethat, Win thought, judging from the attention paid her by the rest)was in a black rage--a beautiful Jewess, older than the others, andgrowing overplump, but magnificently browed, and hardly thirty yet. 

"It's damnable!" she panted, full breast heaving, throat swelling withstifled sobs, "to put this onto me! Anybody with half an eye can seethrough the trick. The Queen of England couldn't get rid of thesenasty rags at a charity bazaar. "

She went on without noticing the newcomer, except to flash acrossWin's face and figure a lightning, Judith glance which seemed to pitcha creature unknown and unwanted into the bottomless pit where all wasvile. Her satin-smooth olive hands, with brilliantly polished coralnails, trembled as, gesticulating, she waved them over the stock whichlittered the four counters. She seemed to be throwing her curse uponblouses, sashes, and ladies' neckwear; and had she been a witch, withpower of casting spells, the masses of silk and satin would have burstinto coloured flame. 

"Oh, Miss Stein, don't feel that way about it, " pleaded a thin girlwho looked utterly bloodless. "The things are marked down so low maybethey'll go off. "

"Look at them--_look_ at them!" broke out the Jewess. "Is thereanything you'd take for a present, one of you? They might as well havesent me to the basement and be done with it. But I'll show _him_, andher, too, how much I care before the day's out. "

So fierce was the splendid creature's emotion that Win felt the hotcontagion of it. What had happened she did not know, though evidentlythe others did and sympathized, or pretended to. But even she, astranger, could spring at a conclusion. 

Miss Stein was called upon to sell things which she thought nocustomers would buy. Somebody in power had put her in this position, out of spite, to get her into trouble. There was another woman in thecase. There must be jealousy. This tigerish Judith was suffering askeenly as a human creature could suffer, and all because of someblouses, some sashes, and ladies' fancy neckwear, which certainly hadan unattractive appearance as they lay on the counters in confusedheaps. 

"He says, 'it's up to you, Miss Stein!'" the quivering voice jerkedout in bitter mimicry. "Up to _me_, indeed! And he gives me this ragbag!"

"It'll be nuts to _her_ if you're downed, " remarked a girl with around, pink face. 

"Don't you think I _know_ it?" Miss Stein demanded fiercely. Her eyesfilled with tears, which she angrily dried with a very dirtyhandkerchief that looked strangely out of keeping in the manicuredhands. "There's nothing to do, or I'd do it, except to give him apiece of my mind and throw up the job before they have the chance tofire me. "

"You wouldn't--just at this time!" cried the anemic girl. 

"Wouldn't I? You'll see. I don't care a tinker's curse what becomes ofme after to-day. "

Win's ears were burning as if they had been tweaked. The minutes werepassing. She could ask no help, no information concerning her duties. If she put a question as to what she was to do she would be snubbed, or worse. Could the far-away and almost omnipotent Mr. Meggison havehad secret knowledge of this lion's den into which he had thrown her?He had said the bargain square and the two-hours' sale would be a testof character. At this rate, she would fail ignominiously, and she didnot want to fail. But neither did she want the beautiful Jewess tofail. Her anxiety was not all selfish. "A test of character!" Wasthere nothing, _nothing_ she could do for her own and the generalgood?

Suddenly her spirit flew back to the ship. Peter Rolls's face camebefore her. She saw his good blue eyes. She heard him say: "If ever Ican help---"

How odd! Why should she have thought of him then? And no one couldhelp, least of all he, who had probably forgotten all about her bythis time, Miss Rolls having spoiled his horrid, deceitful game. Shemust help herself Yet it was just as if Peter had come and suggestedan idea--really quite a good idea, if only she had the courage tointerrupt Miss Stein. 

She and Peter had chatted one night on B deck about the Russiandancers and Leon Bakst's designs. She had lectured Peter on theamazing beauty of strangely combined colours, mixtures which would nothave been tolerated before the "Russian craze. " Now Peter seemed to bereminding her of what she had said then, a silly little boast she hadmade, that with "nothing but a few rags and a Bakst inspiration" shecould put together a gorgeous costume for a fancy-dress ball. 

"When you want to set up for a rival to Nadine, I'll back you, " Peterhad retorted, and they had both laughed. 

Now, with the immense but impersonal "backing" of Peter Rolls, Sr. 's, great shop, she had the Bakst inspiration and the tingling ambition toset up (in a very small way) as a rival to Nadine. 

"I beg your pardon, " she stammered to Miss Stein, and hastened on as afierce, astonished look was fastened upon her from under a black cloudof stormy brow. "I--I hope you'll excuse my interrupting, but I'vebeen a model of Nadine's, and--and I have an idea, if you'll allowme--I mean, you don't seem to like these things we have to sell. Ibelieve we could make something of them if we hurried. "

All through she had the feeling that if she could not hold MissStein's eyes until she had compelled interest, hope was lost. She puther whole self into the effort to hold the eyes, and she held them, talking fast, pouring the magnetic force of her enthusiasm into theangry, unhappy soul of the other. 

"What do you mean?" asked Miss Stein, abruptly taking the sharp, judicial air of the business woman. Half resentful, half contemptuous, she could not afford to let slip the shadow of a chance. 

"I'll show you, if I may, " said Win. 

She, the outsider, the intruder, suddenly dominated the situation. Theothers, even Miss Stein herself, gave way before the Effect in blackas it came close to one of the counters and with quick, decidedtouches began manipulating those blouses, sashes, and ladies' fancyneckwear which the Queen of England could not sell at a charitybazaar. 

A box of steel pins of assorted sizes lay on a cleared corner of thecounter which Win had approached. It had been brought, perhaps, forthe pinning of labels onto the newly repriced stock. Win took a purplesash and draped it round the waistline of a dull-looking, sky-blueblouse. Quickly the draping was coaxed into shape and firmly held withpins. Then under the collar was fastened a crimson bow ("ladies' fancyneckwear!") which had been hideous in itself, but suddenly becamebeautiful as a butterfly alighting on a flower. 

"My!" exclaimed the anemic girl, and glanced cautiously from under hereyelids to see whether approval or disgust were the popular line totake. 

But Miss Stein--still resentful, and now beginning to be jealous of agreen hand's originality and daring taste--was not an Oriental fornothing. She didn't possess the initiative ability of a designer, butshe could appreciate the crashing music of gorgeous colours mettogether on the right notes. Love of colour was in her Jewish blood, and she was a shrewd business woman also, animated with too vital aselfishness to let any opportunity of advancement go. She seized thenew girl's idea at a glance, realized its value and its possiblemeaning for herself. 

"That's queer, but it's smart, " she pronounced, and five anxious facesbrightened. "I'd 'a' thought o' that if I hadn't been so awfulworried; my head feels stuffed full o' wadding. I don't seem to haveroom for two ideas. Me and you can tell the guyls what to do, andthey'll do it. See here, as fast as we get those things fixed we'llhang 'em up on the line and make a show. Gee! they'll draw the dames amile off, just out of curiosity and nothing else. "

"And when we get them we'll get their money, too, " Win prophesiedcheerfully. "We'll christen these things Pavlova Russian Sash-Blouses, and say it's the latest dodge only to _pin_ them together sopurchasers can change the drapery to fit their figures. When we'vesold all we can finish before ten-thirty we'll make a point of pinningon drapery and neckties in the customers' presence to suit theirtaste. I can undertake that part, if you like. "

"You do think you're _some_ girl, don't you?" was Miss Stein's onlycomment. But Win saw that she meant to accept the scheme and "work itfor all it was worth. "

A light of hope and the excitement of battle shone down the dull flameof anger in her eyes. There was no gleam of gratitude there, and ifWin had wanted it she would have been disappointed; but just at thismoment she wanted nothing on earth save to push that beautiful Jewessto a triumph over "_him and her_" and to make the two-hour sale ofPavlova Russian Sash-Blouses a frantic, furious success. 

CHAPTER X

PETER ROLLS'S LITTLE WAYS

Something strange had happened in the ground-floor bargain square. Thewasps' nest had suddenly turned into a beehive. The buzz of rage hadlulled to the hum of industry. Fred Thorpe, the "aisle manager, " wasblessed with the tact which only some secret sympathy or great naturalkindness can put into a man; and it had kept him at a distance fromMiss Stein that morning. He knew the inner history of that particularbargain sale, and there were reasons why he should understand withpeculiar acuteness the humiliation she had been doomed to endure. Hispresence on the scene would make matters worse, and he had obliteratedhimself as much as possible. 

Nevertheless he saw all that went on in that direction, and the suddenand remarkable change which took place immediately after the tallEnglish girl's arrival amazed him. He did not know what to make of it, but it was so evidently a change for the better, and the time beforethe sale was so short, that he decided to sink conventions and let thesaleswomen alone. 

The floorwalker had plenty of other things to keep him busy, but hissubself eyed the strenuous, mysterious preparations for the comingtwo-hour sale of blouses, sashes, and ladies' fancy neckwear. Fiveminutes ago the unfortunate stock (which finished the latest chapterof Stein-Horrocks-Westlake-Thorpe inner history) had laid in neglectedheaps on the four counters which walled in the hollow square. MissStein and her five companions had confined their energies to examininglabels, and that in a perfunctory manner, a mere cloak for feverishwhisperings. The sale was doomed to failure--had been doomed from themoment that Mr. Horrocks, the manager of the department (who was alsoa sub-buyer), had "dumped" a disastrous purchase from a bankrupt saleonto the girl whom every one knew he had jilted for Miss Westlake. There was far more in it than that; an intricate intrigue of shoplife. But so much at least was common property in the department; andthe elevation of Miss Westlake, the humiliation of Miss Stein, couldbe seen by all, for Miss Westlake close by was selling the mostentrancing new fichus which had begun the day with a _succès fou_. 

No use advising Miss Stein to buck up and do her best. Anything FredThorpe could say on the subject would be bitterly misconstrued. Herealized that her conception of the part to play was to make the worstof things instead of the best and snatch what satisfaction she couldfrom a flare-up. That was what Horrocks wanted, of course, but she waspast caring, or so it seemed until the sudden change took place afterthe appearance of the new girl. 

Soon Thorpe began to understand the scheme. With an eye for colour anda swiftness of touch that was almost incredible, unsympathetic blouseswere changed into daring yet dainty "confections. " As fast as thegirls finished draping the sashes and pinning on fantasticallyknotted ties of contrasted colours, they hung up the most attractiveof their creations on lines above the counters which had been meagrelyfurnished forth with a few stringy, fringed sashes. While some girlsworked like demons in transforming "stock, " others arranged it on thelines and counters. Complete "Pavlovas" only were displayed inprominent places. Such things as could not be ready in time for thesale opening were grouped as prettily as possible, according to colourschemes, on the two less conspicuous of the four counters--those whichfaced away from the more frequently occupied avenues of approach. 

This was doubtless Miss Stein's experienced contribution to the planof battle; but, clever saleswoman as she was, when brain and heartwere cool, Thorpe realized that all credit for originating the schemeshould be given to the new girl. "She's a live wire, " he said tohimself, though his deepest sympathies were for Miss Stein. And he sawthe "smartness" of Mr. Meggison in "spotting" No. 2884 for this place. 

Meggison was, of course, "onto" the situation, for the whole secret ofthe man's sudden rise lay in his capacity for knowing and keepingtrack of every current and undercurrent of life in each department. With Miss Stein at their head, her five assistants would not put theenergy of one into disposing of the hated stock, therefore Meggisonhad sent an "extra. " He had chosen a new girl because she would not"take sides, " and a girl who looked as if she might hold her ownagainst odds, because she would need all her "ginger" if she were to"make good. " Besides Thorpe said to himself, Meggison might have hiseye upon her, perhaps, as something out of the common run of extrasmerely hired for the holidays and intend to test her. 

Somehow all the department managers and floorwalkers and head salesmensmiled dryly when they thought of Meggison (who had lately beenpromoted) in connection with any girl. They seldom put into words whatlay behind the smile, for you never knew who might be a spy--a "sneak"or a "quiz. " But all the men knew his one laughable weakness, andwould rather get hold of a "sample" of it than be treated to achampagne dinner at the Waldorf. 

Long before half-past ten women who wanted blouses and had seen thenewspaper advertisements of the two-hour bargain sale began to inquirewhere it would be held. Thorpe was constantly obliged to direct them, and watching them group where they could see the decorations of thesquare, his ears were sharpened for comments. 

The quick minds of American women soon caught the idea which thecolour arrangement conveyed. "Why, it's like the things the Russiandancers wear!" said one. 

"It's the newest trick I've seen yet, " said another. 

Thorpe could not help thinking of the difference between theseexclamations and those he had expected to hear when the advertisedblouses first burst on the beholders eyes. 

At ten-thirty to the second the waiting women pounced. Win's nervefailed her for an instant in the hot forefront of her first battle, but she caught at Miss Kirk's remembered words: "You've got the lookof those who win, " and the floorwalker's advice: "Keep your head andyou'll be all right. " She mustn't be a coward. She mustn't fall ather first shot. 

Soon she realized that she need expect no help from Miss Stein or thefive satellites who took their cue from her. The Russian inspirationhad happened to be acceptable but she was to be shown that she mustn'ttake advantage of her start. The question or two she began to ask hadfor an answer: "Good Lord, don't bother _me_!" "If you can't see foryourself, what are your eyes for?" or "This ain't the schoolroom, I_don't_ think!"

Maybe, she told herself, the girls were not always like this. To-daythey were desperate, and no wonder. She mustn't mind a few snubs. Theyhardly knew what they were saying. The check book was more formidablethan it had seemed on the blackboard, and she envied the others theirquick, almost mechanical way of adding and subtracting. Would she everbe like that? Meanwhile the thing was to keep the entries in her checkbook correct. 

She was saved, perhaps, by the need which soon arose for one girl toput in shape for customers the blouses, sashes, and ties which had notbeen pinned together. Just as her brain began to reel over a difficultcalculation which must be made in a clamouring hurry, Miss Steincommanded a change of work. 

"As soon as you're through with this customer, " was the order. 

Win took time to draw breath and finished the sum correctly "I shouldhave gone flump over the next!" she thought, with a thankful sigh, forshe was in her element, choosing colours and draping sashes to suitcustomers' "styles. " Miss Stein grudged her the distinction, butgranted it for the sake of business. If the girl showed signs of"uppishness" when the sale was over she should soon be made to seethat it wouldn't pay. 

Even as it was, Win used up one whole check book, containing fiftyorder forms, and also her own vitality. She had no time to realize howtired she was until half-past twelve brought the sale to an end. Eventhen a thing that happened pushed away thought of self for a few moremoments. 

Walking beside Mr. Thorpe, the aisle manager, came a big, auburn-haired, red-moustached man of thirty three or four, with aparticularly pleasant, smiling face of florid colour and excitableblue eyes. He looked boyishly obstinate, and yet, Win thought, as ifhe might be easy to "get round, " unless some prejudice kept him firm. She would not have thought of him at all had not the flush whichsuddenly swept over Miss Stein's face suggested that this was "he. "

Win was instantly sure that here was the man in the case; now, _cherchez la femme_! And she had not to search far. 

The two men did not come to the bargain square, but he of the redmoustache slowed down to throw a glance of intense interest at thedenuded counters and the customers who lingered, though the sale wasended, to buy "Pavlovas" at their suddenly augmented price. He spoketo the floorwalker, and got some answer which Miss Stein wouldevidently have given at least a week out of her life to hear. Then thepair passed on, but only to pause again plainly--too plainly--in sightof all eyes in the hollow square. 

The red-moustached man parted company with his companion and wentstraight to a counter where lace scarfs and fichus and wonderfulboudoir caps were achieving a brilliant success. Instantly afairy-like brunette with cherry lips and a bewitching, turned-up nosecame forward with a sweet meekness that was the subtlest kind ofcoquetry. Whatever he had to say was said in a second or two, and thegirl answered as quickly. But she went back to work with a consciouslook which would to any watching woman announce that she consideredthe man her property. 

"Little pig!" Win said to herself. "She's purring with joy becauseMiss Stein saw. (_Do_ pigs purr?) Anyhow I _am_ glad we've made asuccess. That must be some comfort! Why, at the Hands it's like a bigtheatre with a lot of different stages, where the curtains go upunexpectedly and give you a glimpse of an act. "

But exciting as the plays were, the one in which she herself had apart began to seem very long drawn out when the first wild rush of thetwo-hour act was over. Miss Stein, without a word of appreciation tothe new recruit who had saved the day, went off with the anemic girlto lunch. Two others left at the same time, and only a couple of theold guard remained to hold the fort with Win. Three were quite enough, however, to cope with the diminished trade. Customers, as well assaleswomen, were thinking of food; and as the crowd in the shoppingcentres of the great store thinned perceptibly, no doubt it thickenedto the darkening of the air in the famous Pompeian restaurant on thetop floor. 

Most of the best "confections" in the hollow square were sold, andWin was aware, as interest slackened, that she felt "rather like ahollow square" herself. 

There was a little "flap" chair turned up against each of the fourcounters, and at ebb-tide of custom Win looked at them wistfully. 

"I suppose we're allowed to sit down for a minute when there's nothingto do?" she inquired of a plump, dull-eyed girl who was furtivelypolishing the nails of one hand with the ball of her other palm. 

"We're legally allowed to, if that's what you mean, " replied theother. "But we're not encouraged to. I wouldn't, my first day, anyways, if I was you. "

"Thank you very much, " said Winifred. "It's good of you to tell methings. I won't sit down, since you advise me not. But it is hard, standing up so long, especially after such a rush as we've had, isn'tit?"

"Oh, if you think _this_ is hard!" echoed the plump girl, Miss Jones. (Win noticed that the saleswomen called each other by name, thoughofficially they were numbers. ) "You ain't bin three hours yet. Waitand see how you feel to-night when ten o'clock comes. "

"Ten o'clock!" gasped Win. "I thought we closed at six. "

"We're supposed to shut up then, but folks won't go these busy weeks. They can't be chased out. And _we_ have to stay hours after they_have_ gone, putting away stock and--oh, shucks of things. Little dothe swell dames care what happens to _us_ once they're outside thedoors. I guess they think we cease to exist the minute they don't needus to wait on them. "

"I've always heard that rich American women took such an interest inthe working--I mean, in us, who work, " Win hastily amended. 

"Oh, when they're old or sick of their diamonds and their automobilesthey think it'll be some spree to come and stir us guyls up to strikeagainst our wrongs. But when we've struck it's just about their timefor getting sick of us. I got caught that way once when I worked in acandy-box factory. I bet I don't again! See here, I'm kind of sorryfor you if you thought the Hands was a party where they asked you tosit down and have afternoon tea. Fred Thorpe, the floorwalker in thisdepart, is a real good feller, and he'd be glad to give us a rest--abig difference between him and _some_ I've knowed! But he dasn't treatus as white as he'd like. In this show every _Jack_ and _Jill_ iswatched from above. There ain't nobody except Father himself das' callhis soul his own. If a chap thinks he's safe to do some tiny thing hisown way, gee! a brick falls smack on his head. That's one of PeterRolls's little ways. "

Win shivered slightly to hear that name thus used, but Miss Jones wasabsorbed in her subject. 

"Us guyls ain't even supposed to talk to each other, except aboutbusiness, " she went on. "But that's just the one thing they _can't_stop, and they know they can't, so they have to wink at it. You see, though, the way I keep folding the goods or pretending to look forsomething every instant, so you'd most think I'd got the St. Vitus'sdance? Well, that's because if we just stood with our heads togetherpoor Thorpe would have to come careering over here and inquire whatwas the subject of our earnest conversation. He'd hate it like poison, but he'd do it all the same, or the feller above would know thereason why. "

"I thought he seemed kind and nice--I mean Mr. Thorpe, " said Win. 

"No use trying to mash him! He's gone on Dora Stein. Say, did you geton to the _sale_ job? I somehow thought you did. "

"I saw there was some trouble, " Win hesitated. 

"Trouble? There's nothing but trouble. Anybody'd think we was askingfor it! This blessed depart is upset from way back since thepromotions began. Our last superintendent got the sack through hisdrunken wife coming around the place makin' scenes. And Mr. Meggisonwas put over another man's head. That made t'other feller so mad heblowed out his brains. 'Twas in the papers, but it got hushed upmighty quick. The news, not the brains, I mean! Old Saint Peter knowssome tricks of hushin' up. 

"Well, anyways, that set the ball rolling, and our head salesman wasjumped up to be department manager and buyer right over Thorpe's head. 'Twas too much for him, and he gave Dora Stein the toss. Now he wantsher out of his shine, and he dumped some jay stuff he bought in abankrupt sale on her to get rid of. The head buyer give him beans forbein' fooled over a snide lot of trash like that, so what he does isto visit it on us. He hoped Dora'd get mad and clear out so hewouldn't see her eyes on him every time he walked past to give MissWestlake, his new guyl, the glad eye. But I guess now Miss Stein'smade such a big success where he hoped she'd fail, she'll stay pat. "

As Miss Jones finished her story she watched Win's face to see if itchanged, but there was no sign that the newcomer grudged Miss Steinthe credit. She was actually smiling. 

"There's something _queer_ about that girl, " Miss Jones presentlymurmured to Miss McGrath at the other end of the square, as Win wascalled upon to serve a lady who had been told at luncheon about thePavlovas. "She ain't _natural. _ What'll you bet she's a spy? I'm goin'to ask Miss Stein what she thinks. "

CHAPTER XI

DEVIL TAKE THE HINDMOST

Miss Kirk was almost ready to go from the restaurant to work againwhen Win appeared, a three-cent entrance ticket in her hand, to facean atmosphere crowded with sundry uncongenial members of the vegetablekingdom. 

"Hello, 2884 England!" Sadie feigned facetiously to call her up bytelephone. "Got yer number, all right, you see! I begun to thinkthey'd rung me off, so I wouldn't get onto you again this side heaven. And say, that reminds me: heaven looks a long way from here, don'tit?"

Win smiled. 

"Good thing! You ain't got yer smile rubbed off yet. Stick to it ify'can. It's a fine prop. I otta go in a minute, but you're such achicken if I don't watch out for you y'might get lost in the wash. Anyone put you wise on that three-cent billy doo?"

"The girl at the door told me I was to buy it of her, " said Win, "andthen I could divide it up for three different things to eat. But _can_one get _three_ different things to eat for three cents? It seemswonderful!"

"You won't be so much surprised when you've got 'em et. _I'd_ try asoup, a mutton sandwich, and a cuppa cawfee for _eight_ cents, if Iwas you. But see here, I ain't goin' to feed my face in this ranchafter to-day. I knowed pretty near how punk 'twould be from thingsguyls told me about the Hands, and I only took a meal so as to see youand ask how the Giant Child was gettin' along. No more o' this grubfor mine! And if I was in your place I'd go out to eat. You get abreath o' fresh air; and a cuppa hot chocolate for a nickel at a drugstore, with a free lunch o' crackers thrown in, 'll do you a sightmore good than the best there is in _this_ dope shop. "

Long before Miss Kirk had finished pouring out advice, the eight-centlunch of soup, sandwich, and coffee had been slapped down on a dirtytablecloth by a frantic rabbit of a waitress. The big restaurant wasdim, even at midday, because its only windows gave upon a narrow courtwhich separated that part of the building from another part of equalheight. It was so dark that perhaps the hard-worked females whocleaned it might be excused for passing blemishes sunlight would havethrown into their faces. 

One did not exactly _see_ the dirt (except on the cheap, unbleached"damask" flung crookedly over the black oilcloth nailed onto tabletops); but, like a cowardly ghost that dares not show itself, in somesecret, shuddering way the squalor was able to make its presence felt. Now and then a black beetle pottered across the oilcloth-coveredfloor; and though a black beetle may happen anywhere, it potters onlywhere it feels at home, otherwise it scurries about in desperateapology for living. The soup was cold and greasy and tasted of anunscoured pot. The mutton sandwich, as Sadie remarked, would have beenbetter suited to the antique department; and the coffee, though hot, might as easily have been tea or cocoa, or a blend of all three. 

"What a shame to feed their people like this!" exclaimed Win, who hadthought she was hungry, but now found herself mistaken. And again theeyes of Peter Rolls, Jr. , seemed to be looking straight into hers. Nowonder he was what his sister hinted at if he knew all about this andhad not the heart to care! And if he didn't trouble to know, it wasjust as bad. 

"They don't want to feed us, you see, " said Sadie, slowly finishing abaked apple which looked like a head-hunter's withered trophy. "On thelow prices they're obliged to charge they can't make a cent offen us. Besides if all the guyls et in the house they'd have to give up moreof their valuable room. They'd rather we'd go out, so long as we'reback in time. Only the poorest ones, who have to look twice at everycent, feed in the restaurant as a reg'lar thing; or the weak ones, who're so dead tired they can't bear to take a nextra step. And oh, bythe way, talkin' o' that, you'll need foot powder. Your first weekyour feet'll hurt that bad you'll be ready to bawl. But if you canstand it and your back bein' broke in two at the waist it'll be betterthe week after, and so on, till you won't notice so much. Now I _must_go or I'll be docked, and I ain't the betrothed of a millionaire yet. But tell me where you live. Me and you might see something of e'juther, if you feel the way I do. "

"I liked you the minute I looked round the corner of my shoulder andsaw you plastered onto my back!" laughed Win, already revived, not bythe food, but by some subtle emanation of strength and sympathy fromthe more experienced girl. "I wish I could live near you. Theboarding-house where I am is too expensive, and I've given notice toleave on Saturday. "

"My! You'd turn up your nose at Columbus Avenue, I guess, " said MissKirk. "That's where I hang out. It ain't a boardin'-house. What's theuse shellin' out for meals and not bein' home to them? I'd like awfulwell to have you in the same movie with me. There ain't a guyl I careto speak to on the film! But the 'L' runs past the place, and somefolks say it otta be spelled with 'H. ' The noise pretty near drove mebughouse at fyst, but I'm settlin' down to it now. And oh, say, thatbig feller whose best lion died on him (good thing 'twasn't his bestguyl!) he told me he's come to Columbus to room with the chum w'at puthim onto wuykin for the Hands. He's in the toy department with me andfeels real at home with the Teddy bears. I could get you a room in myhouse for two dollars per. "

"Per what?" Win was obliged to ask. 

"Per week. Per everything. And if you take my tips about grub, and doyour own waists and hank'chiffs Sundays--laundry 'em, I mean, insteadof wallerin' in bed like a sassiety bud, you'll have money to burn orput in the mishrunny box. "

"I'll come!" exclaimed Win. "Please engage the room. If it's goodenough for you, it's good enough for me, and I'll put up with thenoise for the sake of your society. "

"My! Thanks for the bookays and choclits! Ta, ta! I'll wait for youto-night at the stage entrance with the other Johnnies. "

She was off with the promptness of a soubrette after an "exitspeech, " and Win was left to sip her stale coffee or spend whatremained of her "off time" in the rest room next door. 

Legally, Peter Rolls was supposed to give his hands an hour for themidday meal, but in the rush of the holiday season a way had beenfound for whipping the inconvenient little law devil round the post. Employees were asked to "lend" the management half of the legallyallotted hour, the time to be repaid them later, so that afterChristmas they might take once a week an hour and a half in the middleof the day instead of an hour. Those in the know had learned that, ason Christmas Eve most of the extra hands received with their payenvelope a week's notice to quit, they, at least, never got back thehalf-hours lent. As for the permanent hands, it would amount to ablack mark secretly put against their names if they dared lay claim tothe time owing. Win, however, was blissfully ignorant of this, andthough she was tired, the arrangement seemed fair to her. As she gotup from the table to spend fifteen minutes in the rest room she wasalmost happy in the thought of having the sardine for a neighbour. 

Two of the girls who had come up from the bargain square with her, onthe return of Miss Stein and their other seniors, looked after Win asshe passed out of the restaurant. 

"There goes Miss Thank-you-I-beg-your-pardon, " said the young lady whohad wondered if 2884 were a spy. "She's got a smile as if she wasinvited to tea with the Vanderbilts. "

"By this time next week I bet she smiles the wrong side of her mouthif she puts on any airs with Dora Stein. "

"Hum-m, yeh. Unless what you think's so, and she's on the right sideo' Father. "

It was true, as the girls had warned the new hand, when sixo'clock--closing time--came, you "couldn't chase the dames out. " Thesalespeople began to put things away, and some even ventured to remindcustomers that the shop shut at six; but ladies who believedthemselves possessed of the kindest hearts on earth pleaded that theymust have _one_ more thing, only _just_ one, to complete their listfor that day. Those who were too cross and tired to think about heartsor anything else except their own nerves, made no excuses at all, butdemanded what they wanted or threatened a report to the floorwalker ifa saleswoman were "disagreeable. "

"Look at them!" snapped Miss Stein, maddened by a consignment of moreblouses from the bankrupt sale (which had brought upon Horrocks thegibes of the head buyer), blouses without sashes, which not evenPoiret could have turned into "Pavlovas. " "Look at them, the fat, old, self-satisfied lemons, with their hats and their dresses and theirsqueezed-in corsets and shoes, and even their back hair, bought insweat shops like ours! Pills, going to their homes to say theirprayers, and then, full o' dinner, to the meeting of the Anti-Sweats. I know em! Maybe _they'll_ do some o' the sweatin' in kingdom come!"

Already Win had learned that a "lemon" or a "pill" was a customer whomade as much trouble as possible for as small as possible a return;but it gave her a stab to hear Peter Rolls's great department storecalled a "sweat shop. " Again she saw the eyes. Was she never to getrid of the memory of those hypocritical blue eyes?

Nobody thought of being ready for home until nearly ten o'clock; andlong before that Miss Stein's nerves felt as if they had been run, like threads, through the eyes of hot needles. Again Win had helpedher in the afternoon by placing blouses of congenial colours togetheron the counters instead of letting them lie anyhow, as Miss Stein, inher recklessness, would have done. But less than ever had the eldergirl seen reason for thanking Miss Child when the second instalment of"punk" goods was brought out of "reserve. "

If the first lot had not gone off so soon they would not have beensaddled with this, and so 2884 had, in Miss Stein's estimation, donenothing at the end of the day except "show herself off" and makeeverybody work twice as hard as necessary. She would not tell Win howto put things away, or let anybody else help her out. 

"You gotta learn for yourself or you never will, " she said sharply, all the more sharply because Fred Thorpe, the floorwalker, happened tobe within earshot. 

"I don't care what he thinks of me!" she said fiercely to herself, knowing that Thorpe would understand and disapprove her injustice tothe new girl. But it was only half true that she did not care. 

She was longing desperately for somebody to love her; and though shecould not in decency have accepted, after the way she had treated him, she wished that Thorpe would ask her to have supper with him thatnight. The Westlake pig, she knew, was going to Dorlon's for a panroast with Horrocks, for the creature had told all the girls who weresure to run with it to her, Dora Stein. Thorpe would have been a fadedflag to flaunt in the face of the enemy--a floorwalker, to one who hadmashed a department manager! Still it would have been comforting toknow that she still had attractions for some one, and at least shewould have liked the chance to refuse an invitation. 

Thorpe, on his part, would joyfully have asked her, for he could notquite "unlove" the beautiful face he had once adored, though he knewnow exactly what a fierce spirit lived behind it. He was well aware ofhis own weakness and was humble enough to confuse with it the kindnessof heart which permitted such treatment as he had received. 

No girl, not even Dora Stein herself, would dare risk offending anyother of the floorwalkers, men able to break a saleswoman if they "gota down" on her. But Dora knew only too well that he would not demeanhimself to take revenge on her or any one. And probably she believedthat he would not punish or even "call her down" for injustice to anewcomer. 

Thorpe was miserable that night, for he had missed few incidents ofthe day in Dora's neighbourhood. He recognized a "live wire" when hesaw one, and he did see that 2884 had "stuff" in her. She deserved tobe praised, and encouragement was all that she needed to turn her intoa valuable saleswoman, one who might become a "real winner" some day. He could help her by speaking a few kind words, but Miss Stein wouldthink them spoken on purpose to spite her, and that wouldn't do 2884much good if she stayed in the blouse department. Also he could helpher by mentioning in the right quarter her generalship in the matterof the "Pavlovas" instead of letting Dora take the credit. But if hedid the girl any sort of justice he would be harming Miss Stein. 

"I don't know what to do! I guess I shall have to leave the thing toProvidence--and the devil take the hindmost!" he thought gloomily. 

It seemed to Win, as she went out at last, a week since she had comein by the same door. It was like a play she had seen, where, in thesecond act, the people who had been young in the first weremiddle-aged when the curtain next rose; and in the third they wereold, all in the course of a few hours. But a year or two seemed todrop from her shoulders when she caught sight of Miss Kirk waiting forher in the street. Beside Miss Kirk, to the surprise of 2884, toweredthe lion tamer. 

"Well, I thought you'd never come!" was the greeting of Sadie. "Butall's well that ends well. And Mr. Teddy Lion here wants to take ussome place for a little supper. "

"That ain't no way to interdooce me to the lady, kid, " said the bigfellow. "She won't look my way if you treat me light like that. Myname's Earl Usher. Honest truth, 'tis, off the bills! Y'will comealong, won't you?"

"You're very kind, " Win began in the conventional way that he hadlaughed at in the morning. Then, afraid of being teased again, shesaid that she must go home. 

"I don't know what my landlady will think, " she excused herself. "Iwalked out early this morning, never dreaming I should be gone untillate at night. "

"Well, she can't kill you, " suggested Miss Kirk, "and, anyhow, you'releavin' the end of the week. I think you'll be real mean if you won'tcome. I know what your reason is, and so does _he. _ He ain't nobody'sfool. Do you s'pose I'm the sort would do anything myself, or ask youto do anything, that wasn't all right? We ain't in the Four Hundred, nor yet in court circles, I _don't_ think. And this ain't London norit ain't Boston. Thank Gawd it's little old N'York. "

"But---" Win persisted, and stopped. 

"I know what's got her goat, " said Earl Usher. "It's that slush o'mine this morning about not bein' a millionaire and my face needin' tobe fed. I thought afterward 'that's no talk for a gen'leman to usebefore a lady. ' Well, I may not be a millionaire at present, but I cansee my way to feedin' our t'ree faces and not feel the pinch. "

"Ain't you the fresh guy?" exclaimed Miss Kirk. "Our faces are ourown, thank you _just_ the same, and this is a Dutch treat. You might'a' knowed we'd stick _that_ close to ettiket. I can run to fifteencents, as far as I'm concerned How is it with you, Miss Child?"

"I can run to that, too, " said Win. 

"Same here, " announced the big young man; "though I'd set my heart ont'other kind o' treat. Where shall it be? I suppose we mustn't thinko' the Waldorf--what?"

"Huh!" snorted Miss Kirk, "not for mine, if I owned the mint! I bin tothe Waldorf wunst, of course. I went just out of curiosity to see howthe swells et. Wunst is enough, like goin' to the menagerie. Y'owe itto yer intelligence to see all the different forms of animal life thegood Lord has created, behavin' accordin' to their kind, and thencome back to your own, thankin' Gawd you're not as they are. We'll eatat Ginger Jim's, where we can lean our elbows on the tables and getperfectly good oyster soup for ten cents a head!"

They walked for a while, Earl Usher insisting on the two girls takinghis arms, one on either side. By and by they got into a crosstown car, and it was when Win was being helped out by the lion tamer that amotor dashed past. The existence of people who went about in splendidgray motor cars seemed to Win so far away from her own just then that, standing in the street, her hand in Earl Usher's, she gazed into thelarge, lighted window of the automobile as she might have gazedthrough a powerful telescope at a scene of family life on Mars. 

There were two girls in evening dress and two young men in theilluminated chariot. It flashed by like a Leonid, but left a gayimpression of flower-tinted velvet cloaks and ermine and waved hairwith a glitter of diamonds and oval white shirtfronts and black coats. Also a pair of eyes seemed to look for the twentieth part of a secondinto Winifred's. 

"I don't believe it was he!" she said to herself when the motor hadgone by. 

CHAPTER XII

BLUE PETER

Peter Rolls, Sr. , and Peter junior were both unhappy in vastlydifferent ways. One difference was that Peter junior knew he wasunhappy and suspected why. Peter senior had no idea that what hesuffered from was unhappiness. He thought that it was indigestion, andhe supposed that feeling as he felt was the normal state of menpassing beyond middle age. When you were growing old you could notexpect to keep much zest or personal interest in life or to enjoythings, so he had always been told; and dully, resignedly, he believedwhat "they" said. 

If any one had told him that he was a miserable man he would have beenangry, and also surprised. Why the dickens should he be miserable? Heconsidered himself one of the most successful men in New York, and hisgreatest pleasure was in recalling his successes, step by step, fromthe time before he got his foot on the first rung of the ladder allthe way up to the top. 

Often he lay awake at night pondering on those first days and firstambitions. If he began to think of them when he went to bed it wasfatal. He became so pleasantly excited, and the past built itself upso realistically all about him, that he could not go to sleep forhours. What a sensational "bed book" is to some tired brains, thatwas his past to the head of the Hands. Besides, he had everything inthe world that he or anybody else (it seemed to him) could possiblywant. Perhaps it was a little irritating when you could have all youwanted not to know what to want. But, he consoled himself, that mustbe so with all rich people. The best thing was not to think about it. 

He was convinced that he loved mother as dearly as ever a husband hadloved a wife. They were uncomfortable together, but wretched apart. That was marriage. There was nothing more in it. 

They hadn't much to say to each other. But you never saw husbands andwives chatting together like love birds after the honeymoon. Youwanted a bright-cheeked, laughing girl, and you got her. If you werefaithful to each other, and didn't have rows, it was an ideal match, especially if there were children. 

Peter Rolls was very fond of his children. When they were little theyhad been the joy of his life; the thought of them had been the onlyone that warmed his heart and gave him almost superhuman energy totake the future by the horns like a bull and force a ring through itsbleeding nose that it might be ready for them to ride when they grewup. 

Now they were grown up, and they were riding; and it was natural thatthe fire of the heart should have calmed. He was proud of the pair, very proud. Pete (no, he mustn't call him by that name. Ena didn'tlike it, said it sounded common) Peter--or Petro, if he preferred--wasa gentleman and made a good show for every dollar that had been spenton him. Put him with an Astor or a Livingston and you couldn't tellthe difference!

Once, a long time ago, old Peter had dreamed of a young Petersucceeding him in the business; but Ena had made him see what afoolish dream that was--foolish and inconsistent, too--because, whatwas the good of slaving to satisfy your ambition, and then, when youreached the goal, instead of profiting by what you'd got, orderingyour heir down to the level you'd worked to leave behind?

Peter senior had entirely come round to Ena's view, and instead ofregretting that Peter junior hadn't in him the making of a hard-boiledman of business who'll do anything to succeed, father stopped Peterabruptly whenever he showed an inconvenient sign of interest in theHands and what went on under the glitter of their rings. Nor wasPeter's interest of the right kind. It was not what Peter seniorcalled practical. 

Ena, now! There was a girl to be proud of. Father was so proud thatpride of his splendid daughter had frozen out or covered with ashesthe glow which used to fill his heart at the thought of her. But pridewas the right thing! That was what he had worked for: to make of hischildren a man and woman to be proud of when the top stone was on hispile. 

Ena was _more_ than a lady. She was an orchid, a princess. She ruledfather with her little finger--a beautifully manicured, rose-and-whitefinger, such as he had hardly seen when he was young. There was somuch of himself in Ena that Peter yielded to her mandates as to theinarticulate cry of his own soul translated into words. The princessin whose veins his blood ran must understand what he ought to wantbetter than he himself could understand. 

She said: What was the fun of having money if you couldn't know allthe best people everywhere, and be of them as well as merely amongthem? She began saying this even before she came home "for good" fromschool. It was a school for millionaires' daughters, and the daughtersof other millionaires had showed her the difference between her fatherand theirs, oil magnates and steel and railway magnates, and magnateswho magnated on their ancestors' fortunes made in land or skins ofanimals. 

Nothing really worth having--nothing really worth father's years ofhard work--could come to them as a family until Peter Rolls ceased toidentify himself personally with the Hands, Ena had pleaded, and atlast the head of the establishment engaged an official "understudy" torepresent him every day in the gorgeously furnished office which hadseemed to old Peter what the body is to the soul. 

Rolls senior and Henry Croft, the man he appointed as dictator, corresponded daily, by letter and telephone, but Peter Rolls himselfwas not supposed to enter the great commercial village he had broughttogether under one roof. Ena was able to say to any one rude enough toask, or to those she suspected of indiscreet curiosity: "Father nevergoes _near_ the place. He's tired of business, and, luckily, hedoesn't need to bother. "

She would not much have cared whether the statement were true or notif she were sure that the carefully careless sounding words werebelieved. But it would have been distressing to have any one say: "EnaRolls pretends that her father doesn't work in the shop any more, butI know for a fact that he goes every day. " So it comforted her to feelsure that her arguments had really impressed father and that he neverdid go to the Hands unless, perhaps twice a year or so for importantmeetings. It pleased her that he had joined a rich club in New Yorkwhich had enough "swell" members to make it pleasant for her to remarkcasually, "Father belongs to the Gotham. "

When father went to New York in the evening, as he often did, notreturning to Sea Gull Manor till late, and sometimes staying away allnight, he used to say as an excuse to mother or Ena: "I'm going to theclub. " After a while it was taken for granted, and he made no excuseat all. But if Ena had known the mystery of those late evenings shewould have been struck with fear--the fear which comes of finding outthat those we think we know best are strangers to us. 

Of all the sad millionaires of New York who pin together the pages ofcertain mysterious life chapters not to be read by eyes at home, perhaps no other had a mystery like that of Peter Rolls. It was nowthe one thing that he intensely enjoyed; but it was a guilty, furtiveenjoyment which made a nervous wreck of him and ruined a stomach oncecapable of salvation. 

Peter junior had never been entirely happy since he left Yale attwenty-three. It was only then that he began to look life in the faceand see the freckles on its complexion The minute he saw them on thatcountenance which should be so beautiful, he wanted to help in someway to rub them off. To help--to help! That was the great thing. 

He didn't care much for business, but he felt that, being PeterRolls's only son, it was his duty to care. He imagined father deeplyhurt at the indifference of his two children to that which had beenhis life--hurt, but hiding the wound with proud reserve. So Peterjunior determined to sacrifice himself. He offered to go into theshop, to begin at the bottom if father wished, and in learning allthere was to learn, gradually work up to a place where he could be astaff to lean upon. 

It was in the "library" that they had this talk--an immense andappalling room, all very new oak panelling and very new, uniform setsof volumes bound in red leather and gold, with crests and bookplates, bleakly glittering behind glass doors. Peter senior tried to kill timethere, because a library seemed to his daughter the right backgroundfor a father, and Peter junior, who had saved mother's poor oldfurniture for his own rooms, found it singularly difficult to open hisheart between walls that smelled of money and newness. However, he didhis best to blunder out the offer of himself; while the chill gleam inhis father's eyes (so remarkably like that of the bookcase glassdoors) made him feel, as he went on, that he must have begun allwrong. 

"So you don't trust your own father?" was the answer he got when hestopped, as one might be stopped short by the sharp edge of a marblemantelpiece when trying to find the way across a dark room. 

"Don't--trust you?" stammered Peter, sure now that he was a fool notto understand, not to have made his father understand. 

"You think the old man's got past running his own business, and ifyou don't want your money to go to the dogs you must look after ityourself. "

"Good heavens, no!" Peter broke out. "You can't dream that any suchthought entered my mind! I--why, Father, I'd rather die than have youbelieve that of me. "

"Prove I'm wrong, then, " said the elder dryly, pulling, as was hishabit, a thin, grizzled beard with thin, sallow fingers. "You can doit easy enough. "

"How? Only tell me. "

"By turning your attention to other things, my boy. Leave me alone tomanage what I know how to manage. You let me do it my own way, withoutshoving in your oar, and don't you listen to what any of your highbrowfriends say about me and my methods behind my back. "

"As if I would!"

"Well, I wasn't sure. You go with a set of raw boys who think theyknow better than their fathers how to run creation; and now and thenyou blow off some of those soap-bubble ideas in your conversation. I've been kind of hurt once in a while, though I didn't let it out. But now we're on the subject I will say: if you've got faith in theold man, hands off the Hands!"

"That settles it, Father, " returned Peter heavily. "I never meant tohinder, only to help if I could. From now on the watchword is, 'handsoff the Hands!'"

This was a promise, and he kept it scrupulously. But the steady firein his heart was scattered as a flaming log is broken into many embersby the clumsy stab of a poker. He had no longer a settled aim in life. He saw no niche which he could fill, and felt that the world had noparticular use for the second Peter Rolls. The one thing he hadlonged for as a boy, which did not now in his young manhood appearstale and unprofitable, was a journey round the world and a glimpse ofthe East. When his father said uneasily: "Why don't you travel, myboy?" Peter answered that perhaps it would be a good thing. 

The subject was broached to mother, and mother did not object. She hadlearned long ago, when she was first married to Peter, never to objectto anything that he proposed. When she smiled and agreed with everysuggestion she was a dear little woman, and so she had spent herexistence in being a dear little woman until her hair turned white. With her sunny nature, it had not needed a very great effort; butsometimes, since Peter had begun to grow up, he had dimly fancied alook of wistfulness in her ever-young blue eyes--eyes of a girl gazingout from the round, rosy-apple face of a middle-aged woman. 

She was always the same in her ways and manner, if it could be calledmanner: comfortable and comforting, contented with life as it was, happy in her children, and putting up gently with her husband;but--when you had said good-bye to her you remembered the look whichalways changed instantly into a smile when it met yours. Youremembered, and seemed to see another woman hovering wraithlike behindmother's plump figure, as she sat contentedly crocheting those endlessstrips of trimming for towels and things--mother as she might havebeen if no dominating nature had ringed hers in with an iron fence. 

When Peter was up the White Nile, in elephant and lion land, he usedsuddenly, mysteriously, to see an irrelevant vision of his motherjust stretching out plump arms to say good-bye to him in his own roomwhich he had furnished with the mahogany odds and ends that hadstarted her bridal housekeeping. She had smiled and had not seemed tomind very much his going--not half as much as a hen mother minds itsduckling's first dash into water. And yet her eyes--There are somethings it hurts and at the same time warms your heart to think of atthe other end of the world. 

Peter had gone up the White Nile to shoot big game; but when he met itface to face, on a social equality, so to speak, he wondered how hecould ever have harboured so monstrously caddish a design. He foundthe animals he had thought he wanted to kill so much handsomer andmore important than himself that he felt like begging the alleged"game's" pardon for calling on it without invitation in its countryhome (as if he'd been a book agent), and bowed himself away with onlya few photographs to remember it by. While Ena was working upconversations to the point of mentioning "my brother, who is such agreat shot, you know, and is shooting big game in Africa, " Peter'sonly shots were snapshots, and he was too stupidly conscientious toatone for his weakness by obtaining elephant tusks and lion skins withcoins instead of bullets. 

He wished he had saved Egypt and its temples for his honeymoon, incase he should ever find exactly the right girl, for the mystery andwonder made him sad because he had nobody to feel it with him. It wasthe same in India and all the East, and there were thousands ofthoughts imprisoned in his breast (which he hardly understood anddared not let escape) by the time he arrived in England to meet Ena. 

They were still struggling in prison when he went on board the_Monarchic_, but there a light shone fitfully through the keyhole ofthe cell. It was a beautiful light, almost beautiful enough to be alight Peter had read and dreamed of which was said never to shine onland or sea. Then, suddenly and surprisingly, it went out. The prison, full of thoughts, was left a place of dark confusion. 

This was the inner state of Peter Rolls, Jr. , when he arrived at homeafter his long absence. But outwardly he appeared to be much as usual, and was so nice to the Irish guests that Ena was grateful, thoughnever remorseful. Indeed, she had so much to think about that shealmost forgot her little act of diplomacy in eliminating anundesirable sister-in-law. 

She was on tenterhooks lest Lord Raygan and his mother and sistershould be finding the _ménage_ at Sea Gull Manor "all wrong, " andlaughing secretly at father and mother. If there had been that fearabout the dressmaker's model on top of the rest of her anxieties shewould have broken down with nervous prostration. But, thanks to herfor saving him (without his knowledge), Peter seemed to have got overhis silliness and was able to stand by her like a brick. 

Lady Raygan, a singularly young-looking, red-faced woman of boyishfigure, and with stick-out teeth, was a leading militant suffragette. When she embarked hastily for Queenstown she had just been rescued byher son from the London police. At first she had been too seasick tocare that she was being carried past her home and that a series oflectures she had intended giving would be delayed. Now, in America, she had determined to make the best of a bad bargain by sending thefiery cross through the States. 

She stayed in her room and jotted down notes. Also, sheconscientiously tried to make Mrs. Rolls a suffragette. About mostother things she was absent-minded; therefore Ena did not waste graymatter in worrying over the impression that Sea Gull Manor was makingon Lady Raygan. 

It was Rags and Eileen whose observing eyes and sense of humour had tobe feared. Eileen, for instance, had a little way of saying thatanything she considered odd was "too _endlessly_ quaint. " Things sheadmired were "melting. " If only Ena had known enough about earls andtheir families to be sure whether Lord Raygan and Eileen would, intheir secret hearts, think the ways of the Rollses endlessly quaint ormelting, she might have been spared sleepless nights. Because thedifference between those two adjectives would mean the differencebetween ecstasy and despair for her. Rags might be poor for an earl, even an Irish earl, but he was hardly the sort to propose to a girlhis sister could speak of as "endlessly quaint. "

Twelve days after they had arrived at Sea Gull Manor, Eileen wrote asomewhat ungrammatical letter to a rich cousin in Dublin who had oncerefused Rags, and in which she said:

DEAR POBBLES:

I wish you were here to pinch me. Then I would be sure whether I'masleep or awake. You'll know by the papers (s'pose poor old Rags _is_worth a paragraph; anyhow Mubs is, now she's turned into a suff) howwe got carried on in the _Monarchic_ to New York. It won't be thefault of American reporters if you've missed our news! They got at uson the dock. Mubs loved it. Rags didn't. 

Well, if you know a thing about us, since we were swept pastQueenstown by a giant wave that carried us on its back all the way toAmerica, you know we're staying with a family named Rolls. Rags metMiss Rolls and her brother in London. And afterward they happened tobe on board our ship, so we chummed up, and Miss Rolls _would_ give upher melting suite to poor half-dead Mubs and me. What a beast the seais! I don't know if I shall ever have the courage to go on thedisgusting old wet thing again. We came here to stay a fortnight, butit's almost that now, and we couldn't be driven away with a stick. 

We're having the time of our lives (I'm learning lots of _creamy_American slang), and the Rollses are awfully kind. Ena is very nice, when she doesn't try to talk as if she were English, and quitehandsome, with fine eyes, though not so good as her brother's. Andhe--the brother, I mean--is the dearest thing in the shape of a manyou ever saw. Not that he's wonderfully handsome or anything, but, asthey say over here, he's just IT. I don't know what there is abouthim, but--well, if I go on, I suppose you'll think I'm being _silly_. 

I don't care; you were only a year older than I am now when you toldRags kindly to go to the dickens. You said he cared only for yourmoney, poor Rags! That wasn't true. But now (I know you won't tell)Ena R. Is going for him for all she's worth. Mubs doesn't noticeanything about women except their being suffs or not; and I'm supposedto be too young to twig what's going on. I need hardly mention, however, that very little gets past yours truly. I shouldn't wonder ifEna'd _bring it off_. Rags asks me sometimes in a sheep-faced sort ofway what I think of things here, and I would have a joyous laugh withhim if it weren't for the brother. 

Goodness gracious, but they're rich, these Rollses! I could make a punabout their name and their money, but I won't, because it would becheap, and nothing is cheap at Sea Gull Manor. You can get a faintidea what the house and the view are like from the hand-painted sketchat the top of this paper on the left of the fat gold crest. Thisstationery is in all the guests' private sitting-rooms in case any onewants to make distant friends envious of their surroundings. Mr. Rolls, Sr. , told me he kept a tame artist painting these things at asalary of ten thousand dollars a year, dinner and luncheon _menus_thrown in. Ena's idea. She wanted something original, and what shewants goes! So says Mr. R. 

He's a poor little, yellow shrimp of a man, with dead-black hair, where it isn't gray or coming off, and the same kind of beard goatshave. His eyes may have been nice when he was young, but nothing likehis son Peter's. Young Peter is altogether different from old Peter, and he has blue eyes like the quaintest and most melting mother youever saw. 

She does nothing but crochet trimming for sheets and things, worldwithout end, and if you admire it she gives you some. But she was just_born_ to be a mother, and even having her sit crocheting in a roomwhere you are makes you feel good. She has eyes as blue as bluebells, and as young, an apple face with a smile that longs for something it'snever known, and any amount of smooth white hair, which she does injust the wrong way, pinched into tight braids. The one thing she won'tdo for her daughter is to have a maid of her own, and Ena keepsapologizing for it. 

Mr. Rolls is a terrible dyspeptic, and the only things he can digest(he has told me and Rags several times) are soft-shelled crabs, devilled, and plum pudding or cake. When he has a pain he paces floorslike a tiger, but does not roar. 

I haven't met many Americans here yet because the Rollses somehowdon't seem to know the right ones, and Ena makes excuses for that, too. I wish she wouldn't. It gets on my nerves, and Rag's nerves aswell, I fancy, though he doesn't say so, and he's thinking a lot aboutwhether she'll _do_. Because I haven't met many others, I don't knowwhether or not the Rollses are just like all American millionaires whodon't come abroad, or unique. But I have an idea they're _unique_. 

This is the most enormous house, built and named to please Ena, though it's no more a manor than the Albert Hall is. I don't believeshe knows what "manor" means. Every bedroom I've seen (and I _think_I've been shown all, if I haven't lost count) has its own bathroomadjoining, and a sitting-room as well. In each bathroom there areseveral different kinds of baths, and a marble one you step down into, but it's bitterly cold on your spine--the only cold thing in thehouse, which is so hot with a furnace that even the walls and floorsfeel warm, although I keep my windows wide open day and night. 

The pillow-cases and sheets are made of such rich, thick linen, andare so smooth and polished that you slip down off your pillows with acrick in your neck, and the sheets slide off you, just as if they weremade of heavy silver, like lids of dishes. Perhaps the monograms andcrests drag them down. It's awful, but it's grand. And I should thinkthere are at least twenty footmen with--if you'll believe me--powderedhair!

Of course, poor Ena took a fancy to it in England. I don't think shestayed at any houses, but she was at some hotel where they have it, soshe didn't see why not. If you ring a bell, dozens of thesehelpless-looking, white-headed creatures in black and yellow simplyswarm from every direction, like great insects when you've poured hotwater into their hive--or hole. 

If any really nice people happen to stop in their motor for any reasonat the house in the morning, say about eleven o'clock, they areoffered magnums of champagne, as if out of gratitude for their coming. They hardly ever seem to do more than sip, so perhaps the black andyellow insects get the rest. There's an English butler, and it wouldmake your heart bleed, or else you'd want to howl, if you saw hisagonized, apologetic look whenever you, as a British person, knowingabout other ways of running a house, happened to catch his elderlyeye. 

Mr. And Mrs. Rolls get up at goodness knows what hour and havebreakfast together, so does Petro--that's the nickname for the son. But Ena and Mubs and Rags and I can wallow as long as we like and havegorgeous breakfasts in our rooms. Mubs thinks Mrs. R. Is a fool, because she can hardly understand what a woman wants with a vote, butI think she's a dear. She sends cartloads of flowers to hospitals, and if you speak of a charity she hauls handfuls of dollar bills outof an immense gold chain bag she always carries on her arm becausePetro gave it to her for a birthday present, and it, and Ena's one, asize smaller, has the fat air of containing all her luggage ready tostart off from Saturday to Monday at a moment's notice. I suppose it'smoney that looks so plump. 

Now _do_ you think Rags ought to resist the daughter of such a housewhen church mice have long ago cut our acquaintance? Of course, Ragsis lucky at bridge (he gave me a lovely dress on board ship), but hecan't live on it regularly. So far it's a toss up. I'll let you knowhow things go. 

Mubs is writing an article for an American newspaper which has offeredher fifty pounds. This is the first fun she's ever got out of being acountess--and now I shouldn't wonder if she'd be a dowager soon! Asfor me, I'm trying to flirt with Petro. No, to be honest, that isn't_quite_ true. I'm not exactly flirting. He's too good for that. Enasays he's "glue, " because he has no interest in life, and that it'llcheer him up if I encourage him to talk to me about somephilanthropical schemes he has. 

One is a "Start in Life Fund" for deserving and clever young peoplewho need only a hand up to get on. I wish I could go in for itmyself--but perhaps I'm not deserving or clever. Anyhow Ena says herbrother likes me _awfully_, better than any girl he ever saw before, and that he thinks me pretty. Did you _ever?_ No wonder I like him! Ishouldn't mind his knowing that I do, as Ena says he thinks no girlcould care for him. That sounds pathetic. I let her know that, as he'sso despairingly modest, she might break it to him that I enjoy hissociety. Since then he's been much nicer, though, perhaps still alittle absent-minded, which may come from being "blue. " I should liketo know what Ena said to him! But I suppose it's all right!

Your chum and cousin, EILY. 

P. S. They've got a shop in New York. I forgot to tell you that--a hugeshop. It's never mentioned here, but Petro told me. He's not ashamed, but rather proud of the way the money came. Rags wants him and Ena totake us to the place. 

What Ena did say to Peter was, "Poor little Eileen is falling in lovewith you. " Peter didn't believe it. But it put a strange idea into hishead. 

CHAPTER XIII

ONE MAN AND ANOTHER

"No. 2884 Child, W. Pay Envelope. Details under flap, " Winifred readon the neat, pale-brown packet put into her hand the night when shehad served Peter Rolls for a week--or was it five hundred weeks? "READTHE OTHER SIDE" was printed in capital letters of white upon a blackbackground on the flap which must be torn open to get at the contentsand "details. " The latter consisted of "Deductions, Absent, LateFines, Keys, Mdse. , Stamps, Beneficial Ass. , and Sub. Slips. "

But Win had been neither absent nor late. Being an extra hand only, and liable to be "dispensed with" at the end of the holidays, she hadnot needed to subscribe her hard-earned pennies to BeneficialAssurance, that huge fund made up of weekly coppers, whose interestwas to Peter Rolls almost what "Peter's Pence" are to the Pope. Thanksto her good health and good behaviour, "Cash Enclosed" (as secretlymentioned under the flap) was practically intact. But it had been anightmare week which seemed longer than all the past weeks of her lifeadded together and if she had earned a hundred dollars instead of sixshe would not have felt too highly paid. 

She moved wearily away from the office window, obeying the directionsto "read other side, " and as she walked down the long corridor (hersore feet causing her to limp slightly) the words "_if sick ordisabled, notify employment bureau at once_" sang through her head, keeping time with her uneven steps. 

She _was_ "reading the other side, " the other side of life whichappeared to her as separate from the side she had known as the brightwas separate from the dark side of the moon; the side about whichpeople seldom troubled and never saw. A few weeks ago, before that"wild spirit" of hers lured her half across the world to findindependence, she would have thought, feeling as she felt to-night, that she was both sick and disabled. But now she knew that hundreds ofother girls under this very roof felt just as she felt, and that theytook it for granted as a normal condition of life. They hardly pitiedthemselves, and she must be as stoical. If once she lost courage, shemight do the thing she had boasted to Peter Rolls, Jr. , that she wouldnever do--cry. 

She thought to find a tonic effect from the sight of money earned, andin taking out her six dollars, she let fall a slip of white paper fromthe pay envelope. It fluttered away, to alight on the floor, and Win'sheart beat as she picked it up. 

Her discharge already? What could she have done to be sent off at theend of a week--she who had tried so hard? And how strange that, tiredand disheartened as she was, she should actually _fear_ discharge! Aminute ago she had been asking herself, "How many weeks like this canI live through?" and wishing that an end, almost any end, might come. Yet here she was dreading to turn the slip over (she had retrieved itblank side up) and read her doom. 

"You are requested to call at the superintendent's private officeMonday, twelve forty-five, " was neatly typewritten precisely in themiddle of the paper. 

Win did not know whether to be relieved or alarmed. 

"I'll ask Sadie what she thinks, " was her quick decision. But Sadiewas not available this evening. An "old chum" had asked Miss Kirk outto supper, and Miss Child having snubbed her faithful lion man forreasons which had appeared good at the time, had no one to give herthe key to those dozen mystic words which might as well have beenwritten in cipher. 

"And even Sadie can't tell for certain, " she reflected. "I can'tpossibly _know_ till Monday noon. "

All the fatigue and nerve strain of six dreadful days and sixappalling nights seemed suddenly to culminate in a fit of overpoweringrestlessness. Worn out though she was (or all the more because ofthat, perhaps) she could not go "home" to Columbus Avenue, where the"L" that Sadie said should be spelled with an "H" ran past her window. 

She was sure if she sat down or went to bed she should think moreabout her aching back and burning feet than if she walked. She longedfor the sweet, kind air of heaven to ripple past her hot cheeks likecool water. She longed for stars to look up to, and for the purplepeace and silence of night after the clamour of the store and beforethe babel of Columbus Avenue, into which presently she must plunge. 

"I'll walk in the park, " she proposed to herself. "It will do me good. When I'm too tired, I can rest for a few minutes on one of the seatsand hear myself think. "

That was one of the many disadvantages of "home. " There you couldhear at the same time almost every other sound which could be producedin the world, but you could not hear yourself think. 

Earl Usher was not to be seen as she came out into the street, and Winwas glad. Once or twice to-day she had half repented the snub which, perhaps, he had not meant to deserve, but now she thanked it for hisabsence. Swiftly she walked away, though still with the justperceptible limp that most shop girls have in their first few weeks of"business. "

She did not look up at the giant Hands with their blazing rings, asshe had looked at first, half admiring, half awed. Their gesture nowseemed greedy. They were trying to "grab the whole sky, " as the liontamer said. Rather would one hurry to escape from under them, and gowhere the Hands of Peter Rolls could not reach. 

It was exquisite in the park, and she was thinking how a delicate, floating blue curtain appeared to shut her away for a little whilefrom all the harshness of life, when a small and singularly silentautomobile glided by. A lamp showed her the forms of two men in theopen car, one in front, who drove, and one behind, who sat with armsfolded. 

"How heavenly to have the air and lean back restfully without needingto walk, " thought tired Win. 

She was envying the comfortable figure with its arms folded when thelittle car turned and, to her astonishment, drew up close beside her. Involuntarily she stopped; then, as one of the men jumped out, sheregained her presence of mind and walked on at top speed. 

The man strode along after her, however, and spoke. 

"Don't you remember me? That's very unkind. You might wait a minute, anyhow, and let me remind you where we met. I recognized _you_ as Iwent by, that's why I came back. "

Wondering if it could be possible that they _had_ met, Win ventured aglance at the face on a level with her own. She knew instantly thatnever had she seen it before. 

"You're mistaken, " she said. "I don't know you. Please go. "

"Logan is my name, " he persisted. "Jim Logan. Now don't you remember?But you didn't tell me your name that other time. "

Win took longer steps. This active hint did not, however trouble Mr. Logan. He was an inch or so taller than she, perhaps, and kept stepwith the utmost ease. 

"You and I might have been at the same dancing school, " said he. "I'mdoing the newest stunt--the wango. Is that what you're doing, too? Oris it the y-lang-y-lango? I could go on like this all night! I hopeyou're not engaged to anybody else for the next dance?"

"As a matter of fact, I am, " said Win sharply, though it was all shecould do not to laugh. "My partner will very much object to you. "

"That's all right. It's not likely he knows jiu-jitsu as well as Ido, " cheerfully replied the man, still hurrying on at the same pace. He kept half a step in advance of the girl, as if to be prepared incase she should begin to run; and thus, without seeming to look, Wincould see him in profile. 

He was so smartly dressed that, in England, he would have been calleda "nut. " What was the American equivalent for a nut, she did not know. He had a hawk-nosed profile which might have been effective had nothis undercut jaw stuck out aggressively, suggesting extreme, hectoringobstinacy, even cruelty. 

She had time to see that his hair was an uninteresting brown, and hisskin the ordinary sallow skin of the man about town. But suddenly hetook her unawares, turning to face her with disquieting abruptness. She caught an impression of eyes sparkling in the lamplight; small andset close on either side of a high-bridged, narrow nose, yet brightand boldly smiling. His voice was that of an educated person and notdisagreeable in tone, but Win was anxious to escape hearing it again. 

He seemed to wait for an answer, and when it did not come, he went on:

"You ought to go in for an Olympic race. You're all for them inEngland. I'm out of training, but I can stand this as long as you can, I bet. The only thing is, I wanted to take you for a run in my auto, it's such a nice, crisp night. I'll drive you home, if you say theword. "

"The thing wished for comes when your hands are tied, " says theTurkish proverb. Win had been yearning for a spin. She kept silenceand sped on, wondering whether she could surprise the enemy byexecuting a sudden right-about-face. 

"Have you been in this country long?" he inquired. 

No answer. 

"Oh, indeed, is that so? I _thought_ you hadn't! Are you living in NewYork at present? Don't be afraid to tell me. Even if you are, thatwon't drive me out of the little old burg. See here, you're mightyrestless. And you do hate to part with much of your conversation atone time, don't you? You're a peach, all right, but a spiced peachpreserved in vinegar. "

Winifred wheeled and began walking east even faster than she had beenwalking west. In the distance a tall--a very tall--figure wasapproaching, like a ship under full sail. Could it be--- Yes, it was!Bless the light of the lamp that showed him! Now indeed she dared tolaugh. 

"Here comes that partner of mine at last!" she exclaimed and almostran to met the lion tamer. 

"Good Lord! Very well, I can't hope to compete against cigar signs, "replied Mr. Logan. "I was unprepared for Goliath. Little David willfade away till he gets his sling. You make me forget my name andtelephone number, but this is where I get off at. Please remember _me_next time. "

"I will, when next time comes!" Win was tempted to toss after himimpudently as, lifting his cap, the motorist took a hasty short cut tothe motor. Win was actually laughing when Earl Usher joined her. Shefelt safe, and not even tired. The little adventure had had its uses, after all! It had been, she thought, just as beneficial and not nearlyso expensive as a tonic or a Turkish bath. 

"Was that mutt a gentleman friend of yours, kid, or was he some freshguy? 'Cause, if he was playing the fool, I'll break into the game andgo for his blood, " remarked the rescuer. 

"It was a Mr. Logan, " replied Win hurriedly, making up her mind thatshe must avoid any chance of trouble. "But--but I don't like himmuch, " she added. "I was very glad when I saw you. And I'm not goingto scold you for following me, because I know you meant well--and, asit happened, it's _ending_ well. For a reward, I forgive youeverything. And I've just thought of a new name for you, Mr. Usher. "

"Hope it's some better than Sadie Kirk's. "

"What--Teddy Bear? Yes, it's better than that. Did you ever read 'QuoVadis?'"

"Not on your life. Sounds like a patent medicine. "

"It's a novel. And in it a great, good giant of a young man devoteshimself to rescuing a maiden named _Lygia_. _His_ name was _Ursus_, and he was so strong he could bring a bull to its knees---"

"Why, you silly little kid, that's a movie, not a novel. I've seen_Ursus_ and his bull, all right. You're makin' me stuck on myself. Ifeel as if I was it. "

"Well, you are it. I christen you Ursus. And thank you very much fortaking so much trouble about me. "

"I didn't take trouble, " protested Ursus, half afraid that he wasbeing "kidded. " "All I did was to beat it after you at what the swellreporters call a respectful distance just to see you safe home if youmeant to hoof it. When you shot into the park, thinks I, 'maybe she'smade a date to chat with a gentleman friend, so I'll hang back. 'But---"

"It was quite an accident, meeting Mr. Logan, I assure you, Ursus, "said Win, still unwilling to confide in him the details of the lateencounter, which seemed ridiculous now it was over. "I wanted a breathof air. I've had it, and if you'll be very good and never use such aword again as you did night before last, you may walk home with me ifyou like. "

"What word do you refer to? Cutie?"

"Yes. And another still more offensive. "

"Sweetie?"

"Yes. Disgusting! 'Kid's' bad enough. But I thought you mightn't knowany better. I draw the line at the others. "

"All right, " said Ursus rather sulkily, sure that he was being madefun of now. "But when a chap's a girl's friend what _is_ he to callher?"

"'You' will do very well, if 'Miss Child' is beyond your vocabulary. "

"I don't call that bein' friends. Say, is that your mutt's automobilesort of following along in our wake?"

"I don't know, for I don't want to look back, " said Win. (They wereout of the park by this time. ) "But--I've changed my mind aboutwalking all the way. Let's hurry and take a Fifty-Ninth Street car!"

 * * * * *

By day, in the shop, Win could laugh when she thought of the ColumbusAvenue house where she and Sadie "hung out. " But at night, in herroom, trying desperately to sleep, she could not even smile. To do so, with all those noises fraying the edges of her brain, would be togibber!

In that neighbourhood front rooms were cheaper than rooms at the back. Lodgers who could afford to do so paid extra money for a little extratranquillity. Neither Sadie Kirk nor Winifred Child was of thesearistocrats. Their landlady had thriftily hired two cheap flats in afair-sized house whose ground floor was occupied by a bakery, andwhose fire-escapes gave it the look of a big body wearing its skeletonoutside. She "rented" her rooms separately, and made money on thetransaction, though she could afford to take low prices. 

In the street below the narrow windows surface cars whirred to and froand clanged their bells. In front of the windows, and strangely, terribly near to the six-inch-wide balconies, furnished with witheredrubber plants, roared the "L" trains, jointed, many-eyed dragonschasing each other so fast that there seemed to be no pause between atany hour of the day or during most hours of the night. Private lifebehind those windows was impossible unless you kept your blinds down. If you forgot, or said wildly to yourself that you didn't care, thatyou _must_ breathe and see your own complexion by daylight at anycost, thousands of faces, one after the other, stared into yours. Youcould almost touch them, and it was little or no consolation toreflect when they had seen you brushing your hair or fastening yourblouse, that these travellers in trains would never hear your name orknow who you were. 

As for a bath--but then the great, magnificent advantage of living atMrs. McFarrell's was the bathroom. It was dark and small and smelledof the black beetles who lived happily around the hot-water pipes. Youwere not expected to take more than one bath a week, and for that onebath towel was provided free. 

"Oh, I thought you'd _had_ your bath this week!" was the answer Wingot on her second night, when mildly asking for a towel which haddisappeared. But if you were silly enough to pay thirty cents extrafor putting water on your body every day, you could do so. And, anyhowa bathroom was a splendid advertisement. One lodger told another:"The use of the bathroom is thrown in. "

That night, when Win had bathed and laid herself carefully down in thenarrow bed which shook and groaned as if suffering from palsy, itseemed more impossible than ever to go to sleep. Each new train thatrumbled by was a giant, homing bee, her brain the hive for which itaimed. Her hot head was crowded with thoughts, disturbing, fighting, struggling thoughts, yet the giant bee pushed the throng ruthlesslyaside and darted in. Each time it seemed impossible to bear it again. She felt as if she had caterpillars in her spine and ants on hernerves. 

Win thought about the superintendent, Mr. Meggison, and wondered againand again whether she would be discharged or whether he had merely"taken a fancy" to her looks and wished to see if she wereflirtatiously inclined. She knew now, from Sadie, that Meggison'sdesire was to be a "gay dog, " though his courage did not always marchwith his ambition. 

The red-haired girl, Sadie supposed, had perhaps come to the Handsarmed with an introduction from some "lady friend. " This theory wouldaccount for Meggison's mysterious murmur of, "That's different. " Whatshould she--Win--do if Father invited her to dine with him, as itseemed he did invite some of the girls? Sadie said that if such athing happened to her she would accept, because she wasn't afraid ofFather. She "could scare him more than he could scare her, " and anextra hand might "get the push" if she refused a civil invitation. 

With Mr. Croft, "Saint Peter's Understudy, " it was more dangerous. Youhad to beware of him. If you were a "looker, " like Win, the bestthing that could happen to you was never to come within eyeshot ofHenry Croft. He lived in the suburbs, was married, and thesuperintendent of a Sunday school. His name was on all the charitylists. He was so tall and thin and sprawling that he looked like ahuman hatrack, and his solemn circle of a face, surrounded withyellowish whiskers, had a sunflower effect. He had written a book, "Week-Day Sermons by a Layman"; nevertheless, he was a terror. 

There were, according to Sadie, girls in the store who were of no moreuse as saleswomen than baby alligators would have been, but they "gavethe glad eye" to Mr. Croft, and accepted his flowers and invitationsfor moonlight motor rides. Nearly every one knew, but nobody told. 

What use? Who was there to tell? Croft was "up at the top and thensome. " Only Saint Peter himself stood above. And who would darecomplain to Saint Peter about his respectable right hand? Even ifthere were any chance of getting near P. R. , which there wasn't. Hecame mostly at night, as if it were a disgrace to show himself in ashop, even if it was his own. If ever he did any "prowling" inbusiness hours, it was with the understudy glued to his side. 

As for "sweating" and "grinding" there wasn't a cent's worth ofdifference between Croft and Meggison, said Sadie. Nevertheless, Winwas feeling thankful, as the "L" train bees boomed through her brain, that at worst it was Mr. Meggison who had mysteriously summoned her, not Mr. Croft. 

If only she could go to sleep and forget them both, and the trainsand the cars and the man in the park and Miss Stein, who still hadagainst her a "grouch. " If only she could forget even big, blunderingUrsus, who wanted to treat her to oyster stews that he couldn't affordand take her to a dance hall next Sunday! And Sadie, too, who knewsuch strange and awful things about the world and life, although shewas so good. 

But no. Impossible to stop thinking, impossible to forget, impossibleto sleep. All New York seemed to be about her ears. She could hear thefrantic rush of everything which true New Yorkers love, and she couldfeel its sky-scrapers closing in around her like an unclimbable wall. As she thought of the great, noisy city she saw it consisting entirelyof vastly high towers, with inhabitants who spent their time intearing about--people who looked at her in the street as if she werenot there, or, if she was, they would rather she were somewhere else. 

She dared not picture the ship sailing for England nearly every day ofthe week. If she were free to do what she liked--or almost what sheliked--she would go at least as often as every Saturday to watch a bigliner move out from the dock, just for the delicious torture of it. 

And yet--did she want to go back home? Whenever she asked herself thisquestion--and it was often--invariably for some silly reason, she sawthe blue, wistful eyes of that hypocrite, the younger Peter Rolls. Also there came upon her a choking sense of homelessness, amother-want in a lonely world. But, as Sadie Kirk agreed with her insaying, "What _was_ the good of squeezing juice out of your eyes justbecause you happened to be low in your mind?" No, she would not cry!

Then, after all, she dropped asleep in a minute's interval betweentrains, and dreamed that she was lost in Fifty-Ninth Street. It was aslong as the way to England, and a ghastly street to be lost in. Itssky line--if it knew anything about the sky--was as irregular as aWagner dragon's teeth--high buildings and low buildings, and shantieswhere coloured families lived; little, sinister-looking houses wherepeople could be murdered and their bodies never found, shops where youcould buy everything you didn't want and nothing that you did. 

In the dream black and white children were fighting and skating onroller skates over the pavement. Cars were clanging bells. Everybodyand everything was making a noise of some sort. Win was trying to getpast the skaters and catch a car. She must, or she would be late forsomething! But what? This was horrible. She was going somewhere, andcould not remember where or what she had to do. She was lost forever, and had forgotten her name and the name of the street where she lived. A roller-skating boy with the face of a black monkey threw her down, and a surface car and Peter Rolls's automobile were about to run overher when she waked with a jump that shook the palsied bed. Another "L"train booming by!

Despite lack of sleep and a tiredness of body that Sunday could notcure, Win had never looked more attractive than when, at preciselytwelve forty-five on Monday afternoon she presented herself at Mr. Meggison's door. 

This was his private den, and a visit there, even on a less alarmingerrand than hers, was far more formidable than pausing for inspectionat an office window. Sadie, with the best intentions, had been able togive little encouragement There must be scolding or else flirting inprospect. And Winifred's eyes were bright, her cheeks pink, her headhigh, as the superintendent's voice bade her "Come in. "

CHAPTER XIV

FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS

She went in. Mr. Meggison sat in front of his roll-top desk. No suchworld-shaking event as his rising to receive her took place. Hisstenographer's chair was vacant. The cherubic aspect had for themoment dominated Mephistopheles. Mr. Meggison was smiling. But Win didnot know whether to fear the smile or to thank her stars for it. 

Little girls--and sometimes big ones--should be seen and not heard, soWin waited in meek, flushed silence for the great man to speak. 

"Shut the door, please, Miss--er--Miss Child, " said he. And thecherubic eyes gazing from under the fierce contradiction of heavyeyebrows up to the tall girl's face conveyed to her mind that "please"was a tribute. Also, she suddenly knew that the superintendent hadhesitated over her name on purpose. A man in a high position may wishto be agreeable to a girl beneath him, at the same time informing herthat she is of no vast importance. 

With a certain stiff young dignity Win shut the office door. 

"You may as well sit down. I want to talk to you. "

She sat down in the chair of Mr. Meggison's absent stenographer. Bythis time the pink of her cheeks had deepened to red. She waswondering more than ever what he was going to do, and what she woulddo when he had done it. But as she sat facing him she realized thatshe was no longer afraid. She felt a sense of power and resource. 

"Are you surprised that I remember your name, Miss Child?" he asked. 

"I don't know the custom, " she replied primly. Would he expect her tosay "Sir?" Anyhow, she wouldn't! She compromised with a daintymeekness which might be interpreted as respect for a superior. Mr. Meggison fixed her with a sharp look which would have detected theimpudence of a lurking laugh. 

"That's a funny answer, " said he. "You 'don't know the custom!' Well, my idea of you is, you don't know much about any business customs, onour side of the water or yours either. " As he spoke he watched herface to catch any guilty flicker of an eyelid. "I want you to tell mewhat was your idea in going for a job with us. "

"I saw your advertisement for extra hands. "

"The woods--I mean the papers--are full of advertisements. What madeyou pick out ours?"

"I'd tried to get other things and failed. "

"So we were a last resort, eh?"

"I thought first of being a governess or a companion or getting into apublic library or--things of that sort. "

"Why not the stage? You're a good-looking girl, with a figure. "

"I promised my father I wouldn't go on the stage. But, anyhow, I don'tsuppose I could have got on--an amateur like me. Every place in NewYork seems full up. And I have no training of any sort. "

"Just a young lady, eh?"

Win smiled. "I never thought of it as a profession--or a label. "

He looked slightly puzzled, and when Mr. Meggison was puzzled by anemployee, he was generally annoyed. This case seemed, however, to bean exception. He kept his temper, and even condescended to grin. 

"I don't want you should think I'm asking all these questions becausewe have any fault to find with you, " he said. "You've done very well. I always know what's going on all over the place. I keep track ofeverything in every department. I wouldn't be where I am if I wasn'tup to that. I called you here partly to compliment you on yoursmartness in that little stunt of the first day. And you've gone onall right since, _all_ right. These things don't get lost in the wash. But before I come to that I'm bound to tell you that the report's comeup to me you're a spy. "

He threw the cap at her in a way to make her jump if it fitted. ButWin did not flinch. What she had overheard on the first day saved hernow from a shock of surprise. 

"I caught that word about me from one of the girls, " she admittedfrankly. "I wondered what made her think me a spy, and I'm wonderingstill. "

"I guess she thought you looked a sort of swell, and any one could seeyou weren't used to work. "

"But--there must be lots of girls like me in your big shops, just asthere are at home. "

"No, that's where you're mistaken, Miss Child. There's more chanceswith us for women than with you, and more places for 'em. We don'tget many of your class in the stores. They can do better forthemselves. You, being a stranger, though, had no pull. And maybe youhaven't been over here long. "

"I haven't been long. But my money ran short, " smiled Win, encouragednow, since neither of Sadie's prognostications seemed likely to befulfilled. "Still, I don't see why it should occur to anybody that Iwas a _spy_. What would a spy do in a shop?"

"That depends whether the job came from outside or in. "

"I don't understand!"

"Well, there's a set of smart Alecks who've banded together and callthemselves the Anti-Sweat League, or Work People's Aid Society, or anyold name like that. They smell around to see what goes on behind thescenes in a department store, and drop on us if they can. "

"Oh, I see! And you thought they might have hired me---"

"I _didn't_ think so, as a matter of fact. I pride myself on spottingfolks for what they are the minute I lamp them. There's somethingabout 'em I can _feel_. I was sure you weren't one of that bunch. ButI felt bound to mention the report. Now that's finished--breakfastcleared away! We'll go on to the next thing. "

Again Win waited. And her heart missed a beat, for Mr. Meggison waslooking at her as if he had something very special to say. 

"Most of the extra people we let go the week after Christmas, " he wenton slowly. "Even if they're smart, we have enough regular ones without'em. But perhaps we can keep you if you make good. And if you want tostay. Do you?"

"Yes, thank you. As far as I can tell now, I should like to stay, if Igive satisfaction, " Win answered with caution. 

"Well, we'll see. It's up to you, anyhow. I told you I was going totest your character. That's why I put you where I did. I knew whatyou'd be up against. Now the idea is to test you some more. "

He paused an instant. This was a catch phrase of his: "the idea is. "He often used it. And when he said: "It is my habit, " or "My way is, "he spoke with the repressed yet bursting pride of the self-made manwho has suddenly been raised to a height almost beyond his earlydreams. 

"I may change you into another department next week, " he went on, "where you'll have a better time and less work. What do you say to_Gloves_?"

Win felt very stupid. "What ought I to say to Gloves?" she inquiredhelplessly. 

Then the great Mr. Meggison actually laughed. "Gee! You _are_ anamateur, Miss Child. Why, the girls all think the Gloves are the pickof the basket. What your London Gaiety is to actresses, that the glovedepartment is to our salesladies. It's called the marriage market. Ladies' _and_ gents' gloves, you understand. Now do you see thepoint?"

"I suppose I do, " Win rather reluctantly confessed, faintly blushing. 

"Some of the best lookers in our Gloves have married Fifth Avenueswells. It's pretty busy there just now. The young fellows buy glovesby the dozen for their best girls at Christmas time when they want toring a change on flowers. Maybe I'll put you into Gloves, if you'llagree to make yourself useful. "

"I'll try to do my best wherever you put me, Mr. Meggison" said Win, sounding to herself like a heroine of a Sunday serial, and feeling notunlike one in a difficult situation at the end of an instalment. Athome, in her father's house, she had occasionally been driven to readSunday serials on Sunday. They were the only fiction permitted on thatday. 

"That's all right. But now I mean something in particular" explainedMeggison. "I told you what they were saying about you in yourdepartment to see how you'd take it. Well, you didn't seem desperatelyshocked at the idea of being engaged by a so-called charitable societyto watch out for any breaks we might make. Not that we do make any, soyour trouble would have been wasted. We give our girls seats and everyliving thing the law asks for, and our men make no complaints that wehear. But, of course, we ain't omnipotent. Things are said, thingshappen we don't get onto, little tricks that cost us money. Folksshirking, and even stealing; we have to keep a sharp lookout. We can'tturn the spotlights on to everybody at once. So when we come across apair of lamps that are bright, a long way above the average wesometimes make it worth their while---"

"Oh, Mr. Meggison, please don't go on!" Win cut the great man short. "I'd rather you didn't say it, because--I don't wish to hear. I--Idon't want to know what you mean. "

It was his turn to flush. But the change of colour was only justperceptible. He had himself under almost perfect control. His eyessent out a flash, then became dull and expressionless as blue-graymarbles. He was silent and watchful. Win, after her outburst, wasbreathlessly speechless. 

"Good!" said he at last. "Very good. That's the second test. And it'sall right, like the first. _Now_ do you understand?"

"I--I'm not sure. I---"

"You just said you didn't want to know what I meant. But _I_ want youto know. I was testing your character again. I'm sure now you'restraight. You're a good girl, as well as a smart one, Miss Child. "

Suddenly, just as she had begun to feel so relieved that tears were onthe way to her eyes, Meggison bent forward with an abrupt movement andlaid his hot, plump hand heavily on hers. Up jumped the girl and downfell the hand. She seemed to hear herself excusing herself andexplaining her rashness to Sadie: "I couldn't stand it. I wouldn't! Ididn't care what happened. "

"What's the matter?" he asked, blustering, his face now very red. Hekept his seat and looked up at her with a bullish stare. 

"Nothing is the matter, Mr. Meggison, " she said. "Only I think I'vetroubled you long enough. You--will be wanting me to go. "

As she spoke she gazed straight and steadily down into his eyes, as ifhe were an animal that could be mastered if your look never let hisgo. She remembered how Sadie had said that Meggison wanted to be a"dog, " but his bark might be stopped if you showed him in time thatyou were not afraid. Winifred _was_ afraid, but she acted as if shewere not, which was the great thing. And the "stunt, " as Sadie wouldhave called it, seemed to work--if only for the moment. 

When his face had cooled, he said: "Yes, you can go, Miss Child. I'venothing more to say to you--at present. Except this: it won't be theGloves. "

 * * * * *

Tingling, burning, whirling with the excitement of herinterview--fully felt only after it was over--Win started to hurryback to work. It was not a crowded time of the day in the shoppingworld. Many ladies were lunching not buying, and employees, if onbusiness, were permitted to use the elevators, white light going up, red light down. Only the boy in smart shop livery, who rushed the liftfrom roof to basement, was in the mirrored vehicle when Win got in atthe superintendent's floor. 

"Hats, Children's Wardrobes, Games, Toys, Books, Stationery!" shoutedthe strident young voice mechanically as the doors whizzed back intheir groove at the story below. 

In streamed some jaded mothers and children, for whom Win backedhumbly into a corner, and then, just as the doors were about to snapshut once more for a downward plunge, a young man and woman hurriedlaughing in. Winifred Child shrank farther into her corner, plasteringherself against the wall of the elevator, and turning her face away, for the newcomers were Lord Raygan and Ena Rolls. 

As the wall consisted entirely of mirrors, however, turning away gavelittle protection. The mothers, refusing to retire with their youngbefore the latest arrivals, "swell" though they might be, Miss Rollsand her companion were forced to push past the forms which kept thedoor, and by the time the elevator had shot down a story or twofarther the pair were close to Win. Still she kept her face twisted asfar over her shoulder as it would go, at risk of getting a cramp inthe neck, and her heart was beating with such loud thuds under therespectable black blouse that she feared lest they should hear it. 

"Why, hello--it's the Lady in the Moon!" exclaimed Lord Raygan gayly, just when Win had begun to hope she might reach the ground-floor levelwithout being discovered. 

Involuntarily Ena turned with a slight start, recognized Win, pretended not to, and presented the back instead of the side of awonderful hat. An aigret jabbed viciously at the tall shop-girl's eye, and Miss Rolls said hastily: "What Lady in the Moon? I don't know whomyou're talking about, Lord Raygan. But oh, here's our floor! This iswhere I want to get out. "

"Never mind, let's stop in and come up again, " commanded Raygan in themasterful way which Ena loved for its British male brutality--when itdidn't interfere with her wishes. "It's Miss--oh, _you_ know, from the_Monarchic_. Don't you remember her in the moon dress? How do you do, Miss--er--er? Who would have thought of meeting you here?"

They were crowded almost as closely together in the lift as sardinesin a box, and it was impossible not to answer. 

"How do you do?" responded Win desperately, and Miss Rolls, makingthe best of a bad dilemma, found it obligatory to recognize MissChild. If she had not done so Lord Raygan would have thought hersnobbish, though it was not entirely from snobbishness that she hadwished to escape the girl of the _Monarchic_. 

Her heart was beating almost as hard as Win's. Her brother Peter andLady Eileen were somewhere in the shop. This was the day chosen forthe sightseeing expedition insisted upon by Raygan. Ena had hated theidea of it, hated having to be associated in Raygan's eyes with theHands. She had felt a presentiment that something horrid would happen, but she hadn't supposed it would be quite so horrid and upsetting asthis. 

A dozen times Petro had asked if she'd ever heard from Miss Child. Only day before yesterday--the silly fellow _never_ seemed to forget!And any moment now he and Eileen might come. They had made arendezvous at the jewellery department, not far from this row ofelevators, on the ground floor. Hang the girl! How little delicacy shehad shown in taking a place in Peter Rolls's father's store after thatconversation on the ship! And how was she to be got rid of in adesperate hurry without making Lord Raygan cross?

CHAPTER XV

THE LADY IN THE MOON

It was a difficult situation for Miss Rolls. Dimly it had dawned uponher more than once that Rags regarded certain speeches and ways ofhers as "snobbish"--speeches and ways which to her had seemedaristocratic. Neither Rags nor Eileen nor Lady Raygan had ever so muchas mentioned the word "snob" in connection with any member of theRolls family or their friends. But they had lightly let it drop inconnection with others, and Ena's extreme sensitiveness on the subjecther extreme desire to be everything that Raygan liked, made her quickto put two and two together. 

She began to see that many of her favourite tricks at home andabroad--with servants, with her parents, with acquaintances, and thepublic in general--were not proofs, in Raygan's eyes, that she was tothe manor born, rather the contrary, and that hurt. She was strainingto understand and observe the finest _nuances_. Never had it been moredifficult than to-day, during this visit she detested to the greatdepartment store of Peter Rolls. If she had declined to come, thatwould have been snobbish. If, having come, she refused the "glad hand"to one of her father's shop girls whom Raygan chose to greet as anequal--that, too, would be snobbish. And to be snobbish was, inRaygan's language, to be "beastly vulgar. "

If she were not snobbish--if she treated Miss Child with warmcordiality, asked her a dozen questions, and listened kindly to theanswers, Petro would come with Eileen and find his long-lost friend. Would Lord Raygan go so far in his dislike of snobbishness as towelcome an assistant culled from his bride's father's shop as asister-in-law? Ena thought not. Besides, she was not sure yet that shewould ever be his bride, and any risk she took might turn the scaleagainst her, so uncertain seemed the balance. Just at present thedanger was that she might fall in the slippery space between two highstools. 

"Why, yes, of course, Lord Raygan, " she said, able in the midst ofalarums to enjoy the repetition of his title, which made people stare. "We'll stay in the elevator and talk to Miss Child, and go up againwhen she has gone. Are you really working here in the store, MissChild, as--as--a---"

"Yes, I'm in the blouse department, " Win replied, quite as anxious toescape as Miss Rolls was anxious to blot her out. "I've been up to seethe superintendent on business, and now I'm hurrying back to work. "

"You never wrote me, " said Ena, thinking it was better to chatter thanlet Lord Raygan talk, perhaps indiscreetly. And there were still morefloors at which the elevator must stop before reaching the groundlevel. "I--I do trust you _would_ have written if you'd wantedanything done that I could do. " Her tone tried not to be toopatronizing, lest patronage should be considered to verge onsnobbishness. 

"Thank you. I never did want anything that you could do. Though itwas kind of you to offer, " Win returned, and was aware that every onewas listening. 

Oh, why had she believed Mr. Löwenfeld when he vowed that the onesecure sanctuary against the Rolls family was in Peter Rolls's store?If only she had not come here; by this time surely she would havefound something else and all would have been well. 

"Well, it's very nice to see you again, Lady in the Moon, " saidRaygan. "Do you like this place better than Nadine's?"

"There's more variety, " replied Win. 

"Not homesick yet for our side of the water--what?"

"I haven't time to think about it, " she fibbed. "Now I must saygood-bye. We're coming to the ground floor. "

"Let's go along with her, Miss Rolls, and see her home, " suggestedRags. "I want to know whether the blouse department beats that_Monarchic_ room with all the mirrors--what?"

Ena's face showed distress. Her eyes actually appealed to the cause ofit to save her, and Win was only too ready to respond. 

"Please don't come, " she protested earnestly. "It wouldn't do. It'sagainst the rules to talk to--to any one you know, except on business. I'm new here still, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to get me intotrouble. I'd much rather go alone, though it's very nice of you tooffer. Good-bye!"

The lift had at last reached the ground floor, and all Win had to dowas to let herself be borne out on a warm tide of females. Ena pressedher body against the wall, and Lord Raygan must, perforce, stand byher. 

"Good-bye!" she cried. "We have to go up again, you know. "

"We'll sail by, anyhow, and see where you hang out later, " Raygancalled after the disappearing form in black. "And we'll bring Rollsand my sister. "

By this time the elevator had emptied itself, save for those bound forthe basement and Ena and Rags. It was impossible for Win to forbid theparty to "sail by, " or to make any answer at all, over the decoratedheads of many women. But she felt as if she would rather die than havePeter Rolls see her working in his father's store. He might easilythink that she had taken a place there because of knowing him, andthat, regretting the snub delivered at parting, she had hoped he mightsome day find her in the Hands. 

"I just can't bear it, " she said to herself. "I'll have to pretend tobe ill, and get permission from Mr. Thorpe to leave the flooragain--to go to the hospital room--anything to get away. "

But--wouldn't that be like the ostrich hiding its head in the sand?Evidently Lord Raygan and Lady Eileen were being shown things. If theyhadn't been there already they would be sure to take a peep into thehospital as well as the rest room. Not the restaurant perhaps! If Mr. Rolls junior and his sister had any idea what that was like, theywould avoid it with their distinguished guests. Still, even there onewould not be safe. The only sure escape would be to go home, and shewould have to look very ill indeed before she could obtain leave ofabsence for the rest of the day. 

Wondering what on earth was to be done, Win suddenly recalled thelook in Ena Rolls's eyes, which had said as plainly as spoken words:"For heaven's sake get me out of this scrape, and do or say somethingto put Lord Raygan off dragging me with him to your horrid old blousedepartment. "

"She won't let them come!" Win told herself. "Somehow she'll preventit. I'll stick to my guns. "

So she went back to her place as if nothing had happened and returnedto Mr. Thorpe the permit he, as aisle manager, had given her to leaveher duties and go off the floor on which they were carried out. It wasa small paper slip signed by him, and Thorpe would have beenresponsible had she outstayed the time asked for. But she was safelywithin it, and she had herself well enough in hand, after heradventure, to answer his kind, sad smile with gratitude. 

"What will Miss Rolls do to stop Lord Raygan from wanting to come--andfrom saying anything about me to the others?" she wondered. She couldnot guess. Yet she grew more and more confident of Ena's finesse asthe long afternoon wore on. 

What Miss Rolls did was very simple, if you had the clue. But the cluewas what Win lacked. 

"I thought we were due to meet Eily and Rolls about this time, andlook at those wonderful pearls your father says he gets straight fromthe fisheries, " Rags reminded Ena when the elevator dropped to thebasement and began to bound up again. 

"So we are, " she admitted, "but there's something I _must_ tell youbefore we see Petro. That's why I made the excuse about gettingout--only, of course, you didn't understand. You couldn't! Any floorwill do, really--but we'll think of the one likely to be the leastcrowded. I can't explain if creatures are pushing us about. Oh, 'Upholstery and Furniture!' They'll do. "

The two wormed their way out of the lift, which was becoming morecongested at each stopping place, the legitimate hour for luncheon nowbeing over. The floor chosen by Ena had a series of "Ideal Rooms, "furnished according to periods, and she led Raygan into a Dutchdining-room with a high-backed settle which, if they sat down upon it, would screen them from passers-by outside the open, welcoming door. Besides, the old oak made a becoming background for a blue velvetdress and silvery ermine stole. 

"It's about that girl I want to speak, " she said, when she had enticedLord Raygan into this secluded retreat. 

"Who, the Lady in the Moon?" He was staring at delft plates onpanelled walls. 

"Yes. I wished for a minute she'd been the Lady in Jericho. Perhapsyou noticed that I didn't seem overwhelmed with joy at sight of her?"

"Well, it did occur to me that you might have been more enthusiasticif she'd been a Miss Vanderbilt. "

"It wasn't that at _all_, " Ena assured him eagerly, almost piteously. "I didn't mind having to speak to her because she's a shop girl, butbecause I was afraid if we stopped and talked, my brother might comealong. I wouldn't have had that happen for anything. "

"Why on earth not?"

"I can't tell you, Lord Raygan. Please don't ask me. You'll embarrassme very much if you do. But will you just trust me that it would be avery bad thing if they were to meet, and not insist on our going tolook her up at the waist counter or wherever she is?"

"Certainly I won't insist, " said Rags. "I don't care, you know, whether we look her up or not. Only she was Rolls's chum on the_Monarchic_, and I thought if he---"

"Dear Lord Raygan, please don't think about it any more. And if youwant to be very kind, and make me real happy and comfortable, don'ttell Petro we met the girl--or even mention her. You _will_ promisenot, won't you?"

"Of course, if you ask me, that's enough, " said Rags, looking rathersulky. He was curious to know what she actually meant, but, of course, could not ask, and somehow the whole affair--Ena's deep solemnity andsecrecy, her hints which mustn't be questioned, began to seem sillyand even rather repulsive. He had never liked her less. 

Vaguely conscious that she was not "making a hit, " and more than everangry with the hateful necessity for this excursion, which was toblame for everything, Ena rambled on, "hoping he wouldn'tmisunderstand, " and floundering into half explanations which made thesituation less comfortable every minute. At last, when the subject wastorn to tatters, and Raygan had begun to betray impatience, she got upto go. 

"Petro and Lady Eileen will be waiting for us in the jewellerydepartment now, I expect, " Ena said drearily. "Let's hurry and meetthem, and then we can get away. I'm bored to death with the stuffy oldplace, and you must be, too. I can't bear anything commercial. Ifthere's a lovely concert or a tango tea somewhere to finish up theafternoon, it will be nice. Or almost anything!"

There was a tango tea, and it was nice. Rags, however was far fromnice. He did not seem at all himself. 

"I'm afraid the poor old store wasn't as much fun as you thought itwould be, " said Petro, half apologetically, when he began to realizethat Rags had a "grouch. " Petro had liked the plan to visit the Hands, and had liked the visit, too. The place had seemed a beehive ofindustry and the bees--selling bees and buying bees--had all lookedhappy and prosperous enough. On the surface, dad's methods appeared tobe the right methods. But Peter wondered if it would be a betrayal ofhis promise if he wandered through the store alone sometimes, when itwas less crowded and things more normal. He had surrendered hisconviction that he "ought to help, " and as Peter senior had stipulatedfor no interference if Peter junior truly trusted him, one must becareful about interpretations. 

Petro's ideas for a "Start in Life Fund" were occupying a great dealof his attention and were crystallizing into concrete form. He hopedthat he might soon cease to be a drone, and end by being of some realuse in the world. But as Peter junior passed out of the shop, hispromise to keep "hands off the Hands" seemed one of the things toregret, whether selfishly or otherwise. He would have liked to knowmore of the place, so passionately interesting to him, apart from itsbusiness side; and he was unable to understand how Raygan, the onewhose curiosity had drawn all four to the Hands that day, could havemanaged to be bored. 

"Blouses" pulsed with excitement. Miss Ena Rolls and her brother weresaid to be "showing their father's shop to an English lord. " How thethrilling tale began to go the rounds nobody in "Blouses" could tell. But whenever any famous personage--a millionaire's daughter or anactress, a society beauty or the heroine of a fashionablescandal--enters a big department store, the news of her advent runsfrom counter to counter like wildfire. In some shops the appearance ofan Astor, a Vanderbilt, or a Princess Patricia would send up themercury of excitement forty degrees higher than that of a Miss or Mr. Rolls. But at the Hands, Peter the Great's son and daughter would havedrawn all eyes from the reigning Czar and Czarina of Russia. 

It was rumoured that they had lunched early in the Pompeianrestaurant. The waitress who had served them had not known until toolate. She would regret this all her life. Mr. Michaels, of"Jewellery, " who had been honoured by showing them pearls, was enviedby all his fellows, and the same with Miss Dick, of "Candy, " and MissWallace, in "Perfume. " Girls in all departments grew quite jumpy inexpectation that the party might appear, and under the intense nervousstrain of trying to recognize them in time. 

"Rubberneck!" one hissed to another, and giggled if she made herstart. 

Even Miss Stein, now somewhat resigned to fate and looking more kindlyat Fred Thorpe, became condescending and communicative in the generalflurry. 

"Keep your eyes peeled for a good-looking, short guyl in blue velvet, with an ermine muff and stole that's a beaut from Beautville, " shesaid to Win. "Thorpe saw her. He's had her pointed out to him at thetheayter, so he knows. Her brother's dark and thin, but blue eyed. Isaw in the Sunday supplement he's goin' to marry the sister of thatlord. "

 * * * * *

There was a dinner at Sea Gull Manor that night in honour of theRolls's guests, and just as Eileen had finished dressing, her brotherRaygan knocked at her door. 

"Want me to say your tie's all right?" she chirped. 

"No, my child, I do not, " said Rags. "I wouldn't trust your tasteround the corner with a tie. You're looking rather pleased withyourself--what?"

"I'm pleased with myself and everybody else, " replied Eileen. "This isone of my happy nights. "

"I wonder why? There's sure to be a dull crowd at dinner. I've foundout now the Rollses know all the wrong lot. "

"I found that out _long_ ago. But I don't care. And I'm going to sitby Petro. So I shall be all right. "

"You've jolly well been with him the whole blessed day. Aren't yousick of his society yet?"

"No. And I shouldn't be till doomsday. He talks to me of suchinteresting things. "

"Has he ever by chance said anything to you about the Lady in theMoon?"

"Good gracious! no, nor the man either. Nor the green cheese it's madeof. Is that the sort of conversation Ena's been treating you to? If itis, no wonder you look bored stiff. You never could stand romance fromany one but darling Pobbles. "

"Don't speak of Kathleen in this house. It makes me want to bolt forhome. Not that she'd look at me if I did. But the contrast betweenher and Ena Rolls--good Lord, it doesn't bear thinking of! Nothingdoing about the Lady in the Moon so far as I'm concerned. It's Rollswho got moonstruck--according to his sister. Now can you guess whom Imean?"

Eileen's pleasant, plain little face flushed up. 

"Oh, the Nadine girl on the ship! The one who looked so nice in theMoon dress. Petro bought it--for Ena. And she gave it to thatfascinating girl. She--Ena, I mean--told me all about it. "

"And about the girl, too?"

"What was there to tell?"

"Blamed if I know. But Ena was hinting dark things this afternoon. That's why I was wondering whether he'd opened out to you. You're suchpals. "

Eileen shook her head. She was not looking quite so bright as whenRags had first come into the overheated, overlighted, overdecoratedroom. But perhaps this was only because he had set her to thinkingintently. "No, he's never spoken of the Lady in the Moon. Let methink--what was her name?"

"Miss Child. "

"_You_ seem to remember very well--you, who mix up all the wrong nameswith the right faces. "

"But I saw her to-day. I forgot--I haven't told you of that yet, haveI?"

"No. Where was it?"

"Wait a minute. Strictly speaking, I oughtn't to tell you, I suppose. All the same I will--for a reason--if you'll promise first not tomention it to Rolls. Never mind why not, but promise, if you want toknow. "

"Of course I want to know. You make me fearfully curious. I'llpromise not to breathe a word to Petro. "

"Where the girl is or anything about her?"

"'Where the girl is, or anything about her. ' Honour bright. Is thatenough? Well, then--go on!"

"She's in the shop--employed there, it seems. We met her in the lift, Ena and I. It was a surprise all round. Ena wasn't overjoyed. No morewas the Lady in the Moon. They got rid of each other quickly andskilfully. Afterward, Ena buttonholed me and sat me down on a hardsettee in a beastly furnished room like a rathskeller, with price tagson everything, and made me solemnly swear not to split to Rolls. "

"About your meeting Miss Child?"

"_Ra-ther!_ And all the rest of it. "

"What rest?"

"A lot of rubbish. I don't know what she was driving at, I'm hanged ifI do. But if I didn't like Rolls, I'd suspect. "

"But you do like him. And so do I. "

"I've noticed that. So would Mubs, if she ever noticed anything thatdidn't wave suffragette colours. "

"And I shall go on liking him--'right straight on, ' as he'd sayhimself. Nothing that Ena or anybody else could tell me would make mebelieve a word against him. And the girl's nice, too. I'm sure she is. But how too endlessly quaint she should be in the shop. "

"She intimated politely, when we asked her questions, that it was alast resort. "

"I should think so, indeed! She was--well, not a beauty exactly, buttoo weirdly fascinating. "

"She hasn't changed. Only she looked scared at the sight of us. Andshe's thinner in the face. Her eyes seemed to have grown too big forit. Ena said Petro mustn't find out where she is. Rather rum--what?"

"Is this the thing that's made you so grumpy ever since?"

"I don't know that I've been grumpy. Only a bit reflective. The factis---"

"What?"

"Never mind. It wouldn't sound very nice. "

"Who cares how it sounds? You might tell me, now we've got so far. "

"Well, then, sometimes I wonder whether--the game's worth the candle. Whatever the rotten old proverb means!"

Eileen had no difficulty in understanding the allusion. 

"She's got heaps of good things about her, " the girl reminded him, being as loyal as was humanly possible to her hostess. 

"Heaps. They're simply piled up in the corners of her nature. But Iseemed to have wandered into an empty place to-day. By Jove, Eily, Ithought I'd made up my mind. I'm fond of the old place at home, andI'd like, to see it done up properly. It isn't as if I'd ever caretuppence again about any girl on earth after--Kathleen. So what doesanything of that sort matter? At least that's what I've been askingmyself. "

"I'm afraid Ena thinks you'll soon be asking _her_. "

"Heavens! I suppose she does. Not that I've said a confounded word. I'm hanged if I know what to do! I tell you what. I'll wait and seehow things go to-night. And then--maybe I'll toss up a penny. "

"We ought to go down now, anyhow, " said Eileen, still verythoughtful. 

"Come along, then, and face the music. "

"You go. I'll follow in a minute. I want to put this wonderful pinkorchid in just the right place in my dress, and I shall be nervous ifyou watch me. "

"What a ripper! Where did you get it?" Rags pretended that he cared toknow the history of a wonderful, live-looking flower that lay on hissister's dressing-table. 

"Petro. He bought it for me in the florist department of his father'sshop. He said it was the latest addition--the department, not theorchid. "

"Don't you get thinking too much about Rolls, " grumbled Lord Raygan. "There _may_ be something in that affair, after all. One can never besure. Anyhow, I thought I'd tell you. "

On that he closed the door, shutting himself out. 

"Petro--and the Lady in the Moon, " Eileen whispered, just above herbreath, as she found the right place for the orchid. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE SEED ENA PLANTED

Ena was glad when she saw Eileen wearing the orchid that Petro hadbought for her in the gorgeous new department at the Hands. Rags hadat the same time purchased some gardenias for Miss Rolls, she havingmentioned that the gardenia was her favourite flower. Both girlstucked these trophies into the front of their coats, and wore themhome. Also, they wore them again for dinner, a far more conspicuouscompliment to the givers. Ena meant it to be taken as such, andfaintly hoped, in spite of the afternoon's failure, that the thing sheprayed for might happen that night. Perhaps Lord Raygan needed alittle more encouragement, for, after all, she was rich and he waspoor, and men did hesitate about proposing to heiresses--in novels. 

Nothing did happen; but there was still time, for the guests werestaying on for a cotillon, and there was a meeting at which LadyRaygan had faithfully promised to speak. It was a shame, however, thatthe effect of the orchid as well as the gardenias should be wasted, and the morning after their visit to the Hands, Ena made anopportunity of speaking to Petro alone. 

He was in his own "den, " one of the smallest rooms in the house, meantfor a dressing-room, and opening off his bedroom. He had fitted it upas a nondescript lair, and indulged in ribald mirth if Ena tried todignify it with the name of "study. " All the pictures of the biganimals he hadn't killed were there--beautiful wild things he felt hehad the right to know socially, as he had never harmed them or theirmost distant relatives. In an old glass-fronted, secretary bookcase ofmahogany, the first piece of "parlour furniture" his parents had everbought, were the dear books of Petro's boyhood and early youth, andabove, on the gray-papered wall, hung a portrait of mother, which herson had had painted by an unfashionable artist as a "birthday presentfrom his affectionate self" at the age of sixteen. An ancient easychair and a queer old sofa still had the original, slippery, blackhorsehair off which Petro and Ena had slid as children. Petro hadnamed the sofa "the whale, " and the squat chair "the seal. " Bothshiny, slippery, black things really did resemble sea monsters, andhad never lost for Petro their mysterious personality. 

There were some cushions and a fire screen, the bead-and-wool flowersof which mother had worked in early married life, and on the floor, infront of the friendly wood fire which Petro loved, lay a rug which wasalso her handiwork It was made of dresses her children had worn whenthey were very, very little, and some of her own which Petro couldeven now remember. Nobody save he, at Sea Gull Manor, cared for agrate fire; or if mother would have liked one, instead of ahandwrought bronze radiator half hidden in the wall, she dared not sayso. But she came and sat in Petro's den sometimes, crocheting in theold easy chair, when he was self indulgent enough to have a fire ofships' logs. The rose and gold and violet flames of the driftwood litup for him the secret way to Dreamland and the country of Romance. What it did for mother, she did not say; but as her fingers moved, regularly as the ticking of a clock, her eyes would wander over theold furniture she had loved and back to the fire, as if she weretrying to call up her own past and her son's future. 

This morning Petro was not in a good mood, for he had been reading inthe newspaper an interview with him which he hadn't given. It was allabout the "Start in Life Fund, " and sounded as if he were boasting, not only of the idea, but of the way in which he meant to carry itout. Nobody likes to be made to appear a conceited bounder when hisintentions are as modest as those of a hermit crab, and a hundredtimes more benevolent. 

Therefore, when Ena came, using as an excuse a dire need of notepaper, and stopped to dawdle, lighting one of his cigarettes, Petro felt anurgent desire to be cross. She had on some perfume which he hated, anda split skirt, and was altogether so inconvenient and uncongenial thatdisagreeable things to say sat on the end of his tongue. He bit themback, however, for he knew he should be sorry afterward if he were abeast. 

"You look as if you'd like to snap my head off, " said Ena, fumblingamong his cigarettes. 

"So I would. But I won't, " said he. "It isn't you I mind. It's onlysomething that Raygan would call bally rot in the paper. "

"Something about us?" Ena was alert in a moment. 

"Only about me. "

"Is _that_ all! You're so silly about having things in the paper!Almost anything's better than nothing, I feel, as long as they don'tgo raking up father's and mother's past. Oh, I know you think theirpast's the best thing about them. Let's not argue. Does it say againthat you're engaged to Eileen?"

"No, thank heaven. I don't want to punch heads in her defence. "

His sister laughed, and tried to make herself comfortable by puttingher feet up on the slippery whale. The split green cloth skirt fellapart and showed a pink ankle clad in a tight-fitting film of greensilk stocking. Ena gazed at it appreciatively and liked the look ofher foot in a high-heeled green suède shoe with a gold buckle. 

"My private opinion is that dear little Eileen was tickled to death bythe mistake. The only thing she didn't like about it was--its _being_a mistake. "

"If you talk like that, I'll wish the whale was Jonah's, " said Petro. 

"She does love you!" Ena got out hurriedly, fearing to be stopped, orcaught up in the surprisingly strong arms of Petro, and gently setdown on the wrong side of the door. "She does! She does! I've thoughtso a long time. Now I know it. I mustn't tell you how. "

"You oughtn't to tell me how. It isn't true and it isn't kind--toeither of us. I hate hearing such darned nonsense about a girl wholikes me as a friend. And she'd be mad as the dickens if she couldhear. "

"Perhaps she'd be mad, " Ena admitted, "because it _is_ true. If itweren't she'd only laugh. You're a simple Simon not to see. Everybodyelse with eyes does see. And they'll all be sorry for her if you don'tspeak. "

"Any one would think I was a dog and she was a bone, " growled Petro. "Speak, indeed! I wish you'd mind your own business, Ena. "

"I am minding it as hard as I can, " said his sister, "and you ought tothank me for taking an interest in yours, too. Don't you _like_ poorlittle Lady Eileen?"

"Very much; same way she likes me. We're good chums. "

"If you don't believe what I say, Petro, there's a splendid way offinding out. Ask her. "

"See here, my dear girl, haven't you got anything better to do thismorning than to loll all over my sofa and talk drivel when I want towrite a letter blowing up somebody? I felt a fool when you came in. Now you've made me feel a double-dyed idiot. Kindly go away and dig ahole in the ground with yourself. "

Ena went. But she felt that, despite discouragement, she had alreadydug a tiny, tiny hole in very hard ground, not for herself, but for alittle seed which might perhaps send out its shoots later. 

It did not precisely do that; but as the ground raked over was Petro'sheart, the seed his sister had left made him uncomfortable. It burnedand stung and felt alive, and something had to be done about it. 

Of course Ena was wrong. He was the last fellow in the world a girlcould care for. He had learned that to his sorrow. A girl couldn'teven like him. There was something about him that bored her nearly todeath as soon as she began to know him fairly well, and made her wantto bolt. He was as sure, he told himself, of the exact nature of nicelittle Lady Eileen's feeling for him as of his for her. Nevertheless, that night at a dance, when he and she (for the best of reasons, theydidn't know how) were sitting out the tango, he found himself becomingconfidential. 

This was strange, for Petro had one of his father's characteristics ifno other--he did not confide things in people. Peter senior kept hisown secrets because it was wise to keep them. Peter junior kept hispartly because he thought they would bore every one save himself. Soeven where the two were alike, they were miles apart. For some vaguereason, however--which, if he had stopped to define it, would haveconvinced him that he was disgustingly conceited--Petro was moved thatnight, in a new-fashioned conservatory resembling a jungle, to tellLady Eileen one or two things about himself. 

How it started he was not quite sure, but with some awkwardness he hadtried to lead up to the subject, and suddenly Eileen had begun to helphim out. 

"I used to think a man would have to know a lot about a girl, " hesaid, "before he could be sure she was the sort he could fall in lovewith. I thought love at first sight wouldn't be love at all, but onlyinfatuation. Now I see that I didn't know what I was talking about. Itisn't a question of whether you _could_ love her. You've just got to. You can't do anything else. It's like seven devils or seven angelsentering into and possessing you. There they are before you knowwhat's happened. Afterward, when you find out what's struck you, maybeit's too late. Or maybe there'd never have been any hope, anyhow. "

"'While there's life, there's hope, '" quoted Eileen. 

"But what if life's parted you from her?"

"I wouldn't let it, if I were a man. I wouldn't allow the girl to goout of my life. It doesn't sound a _strong_ thing to do. "

"It might be, though, in some circumstances. For instance, if a girlshowed you very plainly she couldn't be bothered with you, it would beweak to run after her, wouldn't it?"

"I wonder, " said Eileen, "if a man's a good judge of why a girl doesthings that she does? Of course, I don't _know_ much. But I feel hemightn't be. It's so difficult for girls and men to understand eachother, really. Now there's my brother Rags and our cousin Pobbles--Imean, Portia. Pobbles is her nickname. You know we're great on themost endlessly quaint nicknames in our family. She's quite a distantcousin of ours, otherwise she wouldn't have such lots of money as shehas. _We're_ church mice. We'd be church worms if there were any! ButRags was in love with Pobbles for years, and she wouldn't believe it. She thought, because she's not exactly pretty, it must be her money hewanted. They never understood each other a bit. You mustn't sayanything about this, and I won't say anything about what you tell_me_. You _will_ tell me about the girl, won't you? Maybe I can help. You see, though I don't know so very much about men yet--exceptRags--I know a whole lot about girls. "

"There isn't much to tell, " said Petro. "I met a girl in rather aqueer way--sort of romantic, it seemed to me. And the minute I saw hershe stood out quite different from any one else I'd ever seen, like ared rose in a garden of pale-pink ones. I couldn't get her face out ofmy mind, or her voice out of my ears. She was like my idea of a dryad. It seemed she might turn into a tree if a man looked at her too long. But I didn't know I was in love. I thought she just appealed to me, fascinated me somehow or other. And I wanted to do things for her allthe time. I was always thinking of some excuse to be where she was. Iwas looking forward to doing a lot more things--I suppose it was onlyselfishness, because I wanted to make her like me, but I didn'trealize that till after she was gone. "

"Gone?" Eileen encouraged him. 

"Yes. She didn't want me to do those things I'd been planning for her. She wouldn't have what I could do, or me, at any price. "

"Did you--had you--told her you _cared_?"

"Great Scott! no. I hadn't got nearly so far as that. I told her Ihoped to see her again, that if there was something I could do tohelp, I--but she wasn't taking any. She seemed friendly and kindbefore that, which made it worse when she turned me down so hard. Isuppose she hadn't minded much at first, but the more she saw of methe more she couldn't stand for the shape of my nose or the way Italked, maybe. She just got to feel that the sight of me hangingaround would poison New York for her, and she intimated that herhealth would be better if I kept at the other end of the city. Youwouldn't have had me continue to butt in, would you?"

"I don't know. What happened then?"

"Oh, she went away. "

"You let her go?"

"What else could I do?"

"You could have found out where she went in case she changed her mind. But perhaps you did find out?"

"No. For she didn't seem like the kind of girl who would change hermind about a kind of fellow like me. Besides, I was sort of stunned bythe difference in her manner just at the moment. When I came tomyself--I mean, about wondering if I could have done anything better, and realizing what a terrible lot I cared, she was gone. Then I hopedEna would hear from her. I think she promised to write. But it appearsthat she never did so. "

"Is she in New York still?"

"I wish to heaven I knew!"

"Couldn't you find out?"

"I might, if I wanted to be a cad. "

"Why--what do you mean?"

"I dare say a private detective would undertake the job. SometimesI've been tempted--yet no, I don't believe I ever did come near toplaying the game as low down as that. "

"But it might be for her good---"

"That's the way I argued with myself. I almost got myself convincedsometimes. But I knew in my heart it was only sophistry. You see, itisn't as if she would let me do anything for her, even if she wantedanything done, which I've no particular reason to suppose she does. She's English, and a stranger over here, but she told me--when we werefriends--that she had letters of introduction to good people and thatshe'd plenty of money till they found her a job. I can't bear to thinkof her needing a 'job' when I--but I'm helpless! No doubt she's allright, and getting along like a house on fire. She was the sort ofgirl who would. Or maybe she's engaged by this time to some chap worthten of me. But I can't forget. I think of her by day, and I dream ofher by night. "

"What do you see her doing in your dreams?" Eileen asked in a newtone of voice. Not more interested, for she had shown deep interestbefore, but with a quaver of excited eagerness. 

"Dreams go by contraries, luckily, " said Peter, "otherwise I shouldworry. I always see her in some kind of trouble. If it isn't onedarned thing it's another. And I look for her by day when I'm up intown. I think, what if I should see her face framed in some carwindow? This afternoon I even looked for her in our store--thoughfeeling to me the way she did, it would be the _last_ place whereshe'd go to spend a cent, if she associated the name of Rolls withmine. I bet she'd rather go without a cloak on a cold day than buy itthere!"

"Our dance, Lady Eileen, " said another man, who had tracked a missingpartner through the tropical jungle. 

Eileen rose reluctantly, but graciously, throwing Petro a good-byelook. There was a sympathetic, understanding smile on her pleasant, freckled face which seemed to say: "Don't give up. You may find heryet. And girls _do_ change their minds about men. Anyhow, I'm gladwe've had this talk. "

She was glad, though she was sad, too--just a little sad. It wouldpass, she knew, for she had not let herself go far. In spite of allthat Ena had said, it had never felt true that Peter cared for her. She could have loved him, and been happy with him, and have made himhappy, she thought, but since he didn't want her, she must set herselfto work hard not to want him. She must take her mind off the littledeep-down, bruised hurt in her heart by thinking of a way in which shecould make him happy--a way in which, by and by, he might recognizeher handiwork and send her his thanks across the sea. 

"I should like him to know I did it, " she said to herself. "And thenthrough all his life he would have to remember me because of hishappiness, which, without me, he might have missed. "

Of course, Petro had mentioned no name, and Eileen had asked noquestions. If it had not been for Raygan's revelation she might nothave guessed; but now she did guess, and was almost sure. It seemed toher that a girl who could have Petro's friendship and then drop itlike a hot chestnut didn't deserve him for a friend, much less alover. But there must have been some reason. It wouldn't have beenhuman nature, to put things on their lowest level, for a girl in MissChild's position to "turn down" a young man in Peter Rolls's for amere whim. 

Could Ena have done something to put them apart? Eileen wondered. Itwould--she had to admit--be like Ena. And if Ena had been treacherousor hateful, then it would be a sort of poetical justice if she lostRaygan through making her brother lose his dryad. Even now Eileen didnot know what Rags would do; and since their day at the Hands, he hadseemed somehow "off" the affair with Ena. But whatever happened in theend--which, one way or the other, must come soon--between Ena andRaygan, Peter mustn't lose the Lady in the Moon because of a stupidpromise exacted and made to get his sister out of some scrape. 

Eileen wouldn't break the promise, because a promise was one of thefew things she and her brother Rags had never broken. Raygan wouldn'trelease her, even if she begged him to do so, but there might beanother way--a way which might lead Petro straight to the Lady in theMoon, if he were really in earnest about finding her. That was theclever part of the inspiration which suddenly came to Eileen that samenight after starting up from a dream which was "endlessly quaint. "

"I'll do it when I say good-bye to Mrs. Rolls, " she told herself. Andthe idea seemed to her so original, so filled with possibilities ofromance, that it was as soothing to the bruise in her heart as anapplication of Peter Rolls's Balm of Gilead. 

She guessed that he had put aside his reserve and told her about the"dryad girl" because Ena had put him up to think that she--Eileen--had"begun to care. " The mortifying part was that it had been--almosttrue. But Eileen wasn't going to mind. She was going to say toherself, if ever the pain came back: "If I can do this for him, surely, when he knows, he'll be glad he told me, and glad that I caredenough to help. "

It was only next morning, when the world showed its practical side, that she realized how seldom in real life romances can be worked outto a happy ending--or, at all events, the kind of happy ending thepeople concerned are striving after. 

"I'll do my best, though, " she reiterated, "for Petro's sake and formine. "

For her the lost dryad was but a shadowy figure in the background, necessary to the picture, perhaps, yet not of poignant, personalinterest. It was only of Petro she thought. 

CHAPTER XVII

TOYLAND

From her own point of view, the lost dryad was a prominent figure inthe middle of the foreground; for life was strenuous for those in thegrasp of the Hands, and it was only at night, when her body could liequiet while her brain was still terribly active, that other figuresassumed their due importance for Win in the great, bright picture ofNew York. 

It was something to be thankful for that she had escaped Peter the dayof that visit of inspection to the store. Not that she was afraid ofhim or anything he could do if they should meet. That would have beentoo silly and Victorian! Girls were not like that nowadays, if theyhad any sense, no matter how "dangerous" men might be. But she hadliked him so much, and had been so bitterly disappointed to learn fromhis own loving sister that he was not the "Mr. Balm of Gilead" createdby her imagination that it would be unbearable to meet him again, tosee him "giving himself away, " and thus proving his sister right. 

To be sure, after seeing Miss Rolls in the lift, certain kindprotestations of friendship had been contradicted by a frozen smile, acold, embarrassed eye. If Peter's sister were insincere in one way, why not untrustworthy in others? This was one of the questions thatdarted into Win's brain at night through one of the holes made thereby the giant bees of the "L" road. But the answer was obvious. MissRolls might be superficial, insincere, and snobbish enough to dislikeclaiming acquaintance with a girl of the "working classes, " but therewas no motive strong enough to make her traduce her brother'scharacter. Even untrustworthy people told the truth sometimes. 

It was rather fortunate, perhaps, that Win had another excitingthought to engross her attention at this time, though it was no moreagreeable than the thought of Peter Rolls. After her conversation withMr. Meggison, she confidently expected to find her dismissal in thenext pay envelope. It was not there; but, suddenly and withoutwarning, she was dragged out of Blouses and Neckwear and dumped intoToys. 

This was as great a surprise to Sadie Kirk and Earl Usher as to Winherself. She dropped upon them as if she had fallen out of the sky--orat least from the top floor. And nobody knew why: whether it was apunishment or a reward. For Toys gave harder work for the handswithout a capital H than Blouses and Neckwear, even when Miss Steinwas badly "peeved. " Also, Mr. Tobias, the floorwalker concerned withthe toy department was "a spalpeen and a pie-faced mutt from 'wayback, " whereas Fred Thorpe was a well-known angel. Yet, on the otherhand, not only were more than half the toy assistants men, but many ofthe customers also were men. This made the department more lively tobe in than Blouses, and some girls considered Toys next best toGloves. 

It was almost like coming into a strange shop when Win arrived withSadie before eight o'clock in the morning for her first day inToyland, as Earl Usher facetiously named it. The December morninghardly knew yet that it had been born, and though already there waslife in the Hands--fierce, active life--those pulsing white globeswhich made artificial sunshine whatever the weather, had not yet begunto glow like illuminated snowballs. Shadowy men were lifting paleshrouds off the counters. Voices chattering in the gloom were likevoices of monkeys in a dusky jungle--a jungle quite unlike that fairyplace where Peter Rolls had talked of Win to Lady Eileen. Out of thegloom wondrous things emerged to people, a weird world--the Hands'world of toys. 

As Win strained her eyes to see through the dusk, forth from itsdepths loomed uncouth, motionless shapes. Almost life-size lions andTeddy bears, and huge, grinning baboons as big as five-year-old boys, posed in silent, expressive groups, dangerously near to unprotecteddolls' houses with open fronts--splendid dolls' houses, large enoughfor children to enter, and less important dolls' houses, only bigenough for fairies. Dolls' eyes and dolls' dresses and dolls' goldencurls caught what little light there was and drew attention tothemselves. 

Some of them stood, three rows deep (the little ones in front, likechildren watching a show), on shelves. Others were being fetched outby the chattering shadows, as if they were favourite chorus girls, todisplay their graces on the counters. They were placed in chairs, ormotor cars of doll land, or seated carefully in baby carriages. Therewere walking dolls and talking dolls and dolls who could suck realmilk out of real bottles into tin-lined stomachs. Some exquisitelygowned porcelain Parisiennes, with eyelashes and long hair cut fromthe heads of penniless children, were almost as big and asaristocratic as their potential millionaire mistresses. Humblersisters of middle class combined prettiness with cheapness, and hadthe satisfaction of showing their own price marks. 

These delicate creatures, lovely in pale-tinted robes or forlorn inchemises, were the bright spots in the vast, dark department, shiningout through the dusk as stars shine through thin clouds. As Win becameone of the band of shadows, under Sadie's direction, gradually shegrew accustomed to the gloom, and her gaze called many of the strangeobjects forth into life. 

She found long-haired Shetland ponies big enough to ride, glorifiedhobby horses clad in real skins, and unglorified ones with nostrilslike those of her landlady in Columbus Avenue. Biscuit-coloured Jerseycows, which could be milked, gazed mildly into space with expensiveglass eyes. Noah's arks, big enough to be lived in if the animalswould move up, seemed to have been painted with Bakst colours. Fearsome faces glared from behind the bars of menagerie cages. Donkeysand Chinese mandarins nodded good-morning and forgot to stop. Dragonbroods of miniature motor cars nested in realistic garages. 

Dramatic scenes from real plays were being enacted in dumb show on thestages of theatres apparently decorated by Rothenstein. The Russianballet had stopped in the midst of "Le Spectre de la Rose. " Suits ofarmour, which Ursus called "pewter raincoats, " glimmered in darkspaces behind piled drums and under limply hanging flags oraeroplanes ready to take flight. Almost everything wasmechanical--each article warranted to do what it pretended to do inorder to have its appeal for the modern child. 

Win was a child of yesterday; yet the big girl has always the littlegirl of the past asleep in her heart, ready to wake up on theslightest encouragement, and she felt the thrill of Toyland. If whenshe was small she could ever have dreamed of spending her days in aplace like this, she would have bartered her chance of heaven forit--heaven as described in her father's sermons. It was another oflife's little ironies that her lot should be cast in a world of toyswhen she was too old to prefer it to Paradise. 

Sadie and Ursus had used up the little time they had in warning herwhat she would have to expect in Toys. 

"There are some punk fellers who'll try it on with you--pinch ortickle you as you pass by, and say things not fit for a dandy guyllike you to hear, " the lion tamer had hurriedly explained. "But don'tyou stand for it. You don't have to! Just hand 'em along to me, andI'll make 'em sorry their fathers ever seen their mothers. "

Sadie's story of girl life in Toyland was on the same lines, but witha different moral. 

"Don't you tell tales out o' school, no matter what any of the chaps_do_, " was her advice. "I kin hold my own, and I bet you can. You maybe a looker, but you ain't anybody's baby doll. If a feller calls you'childie' or 'sweet lamb' or tells you you're the peacherino in thepeach basket, don't you answer back, but just smile and wend yourways. If he goes so far as to put his arm around your waist or take anip with his nails out of your arm or hip, why, then you can land himone on the napper if nobody's lookin'. But all the same, the chapsmostly ain't so black at heart. They just try to decorate their graylives a bit, and if those sort of things didn't happen to me once ortwicet a day, why I'd be discouraged and think I'd lost my fatalbeauty. "

For some subtle reason, however, "chaps" did not pinch or tickle Winor slip arms around her waist. One confided to another that he guessedthere was nothing "didding" in that direction, and he'd as soon makelove to the Statue of Liberty as an English Maypole; which was aswell, for from the first moment of her entrance on the scene, the liontamer kept his eyes open. There were all sorts and conditions of menin Toys, but he was among them as a giant among pygmies; and even ifthe ex-ship's steward, the ex-trolley driver, the conjurer out of ajob, and the smart young men who had been "clerking since they were inlong pants, " had wished to try their luck with Win, Earl Usher wouldhave shown them the wisdom of turning their eyes elsewhere. 

The news soon ran round Toyland that "Winsome Winnie" was Usher'sgirl. The male "assistants" did no worse than call her by herChristian name (they must have caught it from Sadie), and that was nocause of offence to girl from man in a department store. Every girl ina department shared by men was "Kitty" or "Winny, " "Sadie" or"Sweetie, " while the men expected to be addressed as Mr. Jones or Mr. Brown, except by their own particular "petsies. " Sadie was popularwith all, even the "permanences, " who considered themselves above the"holiday extras. " The ex-steward, a good-looking young German, hadoffered to get her a dandy place as stewardess when he felt ready tosniff salt water again, and though she wasn't "taking any, " and oftenboxed his ears, she made "dates" with him for dance halls afterbusiness hours, especially one called Dreamland, which was too lovelyfor "wuyds. " There were movies, and you could dance till 'mostmorning. Real swell gentlemen, who wore red badges to show "they wasall right, " came up and asked if they could "interdooce" other gentsto you, in case you'd come in alone and didn't have friends. But Sadiealways did have friends. 

The red-haired girl, who had from the first been a haunting mysteryfor Win, was in the toy department. Her name was Lily Leavitt, and--asSadie had already told Win--she was "chucking herself" at Earl Usher'shead. At first Miss Leavitt "lamped" Miss Child "something awful. " Buton the English girl's third Toy day a thing happened which convertedthe enemy into a friend--an all too devoted friend. 

It was now so near Christmas that in the department devoted to toysand games you could not have placed a sheet of foreign notepaperbetween mothers (with a sprinkling of aunts and grandmas) unless youwanted it torn to pieces before you could count "One!" Children weremassed together in a thick, low-growing underbrush, and of theirspecies only babies were able to rise, like cream, to the top. Theair, or rather the atmosphere (since all the air had been breathedlong ago), was to the nerves what tow is to fire. Nobody could be init for ten minutes without wanting to hit somebody else or pushsomebody else's child, little brute! out of the way. 

What with heat, the rage for buying, impatience to get in andimpatience to get out, the fragrance of pine and holly decorations, the smell of hot varnish and hot people and cheap furs, the babble ofexcited voices and shrieks of exhausted children, it was the trueChristmas spirit. Peter Rolls's store in general, and the toydepartment in particular, were having what would be alluded to laterin advertisements as an "unprecedented success. "

Before Win came the folding chairs for "assistants" had all beenbroken or out of order. But (no doubt, said Sadie) because of somelingering suspicion that she might, after all, be an anti-sweat spy, the springs or hinges were mysteriously repaired throughout thedepartment. By law any girl could sit down. By unwritten law shemustn't, yet there were the chairs as good as gold and fresh as paint. They were even pointed out to Win, but in the whirl of things themoment after she forgot their very existence and never had time toremember it again. 

That third day in Toys was the most appalling she had known of all thelong, wild days at Peter Rolls's since coming in as an extra holidayhand. Dozens of customers clamoured for her at once. Each femalecreature seemed to have as many hands as Briareus, all reaching forthings they wanted, or gesticulating and brandishing money, orsnatching for change. If each distracted girl had had half a dozenhighly trained astral bodies with which to serve these terribleladies, it would not have been enough. More ladies would have come. 

Yet (Win noticed with wondering admiration) some of the girls, thosemost experienced and less easily rattled, did find opportunities topolish their nails and pat their hair. They would turn as if to findsomething "in stock, " stoop quickly, taking advantage of the crowdbehind the counters, snatch out of their stockings tiny mirrors andbags of powder or rouge, and "fix themselves, " while their anxiouscustomers supposed they were diving for a toy. These were the girlswho kept their own perfumed soap and scent bottles in their lockersand could afford becoming hats, whether or no they had money to buynew underclothes and stockings when the old ones gave out. 

Win, however, had neither experience enough nor desire to find timefor personal matters. She gave her whole soul to her work and worethat pleasant Christmas smile which floorwalkers wish to see onsalesladies' faces. But her smile was only skin deep. She had neverliked her sister women less--cross, silly, snapping, inconsideratethings, strutting and pushing about in skins and plumes of animals farmore agreeable and beautiful than themselves! Dangling all over withpoor little heads of dead creatures, just as if they were movingbutcher shops, and apparently without a sense of humour to tell themwhat idiots they looked. 

Yes, idiots! That was the word. And if they had enough humour to puton a thumb nail, _could_ they wear the stick-out and stick-upornaments on their hats they did wear, to prod each other's eyes? No, they couldn't! And what with feathers standing straight out behind, and long corsets down to their knees, they could never lean backagainst anything, no matter how tired they were. So, what with tightdresses and high heels and thin silk stockings and low shoes andblouses on winter days, no wonder men wouldn't let them have the vote!

Win turned from an incipient suffragette into a temporarily venomouswoman hater when a customer made her show nine dozen dolls, and thenminced away saying that Peter Rolls never did have anything worthbuying. Another patronizingly bestowed five cents upon Win for her"trouble" after making her change three toys bought yesterday andtaking half an hour over it. Altogether, when Winifred Child happenedto think of Mrs. Belmont's building with the great figure of a womanfalling down the front of it, she would have liked the statue to dropto earth with a crash. 

Once in a while, contriving to pass near, Ursus tried to whisper aword of encouragement:

"You're a Wonderchild, you are! Say, it don't spoil your looks bein'tired. You're the picture postal, you are! Never you mind these dames. Say the word and we'll make up with a large time to-night. I'll blowyou through all the best movies and stake you to an ice-cream, soda. Do you get yes?"

Despite his well-meant solicitude, however, Win's vitality was at anexceedingly low ebb toward five o'clock in the afternoon of the thirdday. There had been no time to go out for an alleged luncheon and abreath of fresh air. She had eaten nothing since her breakfast of hotchocolate at a soda fountain, save a poached egg in the employees'restaurant, and, as Sadie said, it wasn't safe to accept an egg fromthe Hands unless you'd met the hen socially and knew her past. Sincefour o'clock the exile had been thinking passionately of England, withits millions of women sitting down--actually sitting down!--to tea. And then, suddenly, a man pushed aside a female thing who was beingcross because she couldn't find a doll that said "Papa" and "Mama" inGerman. 

"As you can't get what you want, madam, I'm sure you won't mind mytaking your place, " apologized a cheerful voice. "Madam" was sodumfounded that she gave way. And Win, thankful for a change of sex inher customer, had put on her polite saleslady air before she realizedthat she was face to face with Jim Logan, her motoring acquaintance ofthe park. 

"Howdy do?" he inquired, and hastily added: "I want a doll. I don'tcare whether she can talk German or not. Though I do want a littleconversation--with somebody. "

Money could not be lost to the house of Rolls because one of itsfemale servants wished to snub an admirer. Mr. Logan was even betterdressed than when Win had seen him before. He looked rich enough tobuy Peter Rolls's star doll, price five hundred dollars, withtrousseau. Nevertheless Miss Child determined to outwit him. 

"What kind of a doll?" she asked in a business-like tone, showing nosign of recognition. "For a small girl or a large girl? And about whatprice do you wish to pay?"

"Doll for a middle-sized girl, " replied the customer, his twinklingeyes on the young woman serving him. "I like large girls best, girlsexactly your size and age, twenty at most, and warranted to lookseventeen if given a day's rest and a pretty hat and a supper atSherry's--with the right man. I don't mind how much trouble I takelooking for a doll any more than I mind the trouble of looking for agirl. This is a little sister of mine who has to have a doll. I likeother men's sisters better, but---"

"I think I know just what you want, " said Win briskly. "If you'll begood enough to wait here half a minute; I'll see that you get it. "

Like a flash she was off, looking for Sadie. But Sadie was too faraway. Win didn't want the redoubtable Tobias to scold her forneglecting customers, as she had heard him scold Lily Leavitt the daybefore, when Lily was trying to flirt with Earl Usher. Close by wasMiss Lily Leavitt herself, looking bored to the verge of extinction byan old lady who wished advice in choosing five presents for fivegrandchildren. "Miss Leavitt, " Win whispered, "would it be possiblefor you to take my man, who wants a doll for a middle-aged sister--Imean, middle-sized--and let me attend to your customer?"

Miss Leavitt threw a green-eyed glance at the man indicated, and said:"Ginks! Ye-h!" as quickly as she could draw breath. 

The immediate and brilliant success of the stratagem was as revivingto tired Win as the encounter in the park had been. Her splendidvitality came bubbling to the surface again, and she showed such aninterest in selecting the five grandchildren's presents that the oldlady thanked Providence for the exchange. No time, no trouble, was toomuch, and grandma joyously wallowed in layers of toys produced for herinspection. 

Now and then, when the old lady was choosing between an aeroplane anda train of cars, or a schoolroom and a Noah's ark, Win took aneyelash-veiled look at Miss Leavitt and her customer. He hadapparently bought one doll, veiled like a harem woman, and washesitating over another. The grandmother of five was not the onlyperson needing advice, it seemed. The brother of one middle-sizedsister was evidently demanding it from Miss Leavitt. 

In any case, their heads were close together over a Tango Tea doll whotried to look as if she had been dressed by Poiret. It stood to reasonthat a man might want a woman to tell him whether that was the sort ofthing a middle-sized child would like, but though their heads werebent over the doll, their eyes turned occasionally toward Miss Child. 

"Keep the change and buy yourself and your friends some little thingfor Christmas, " Win heard Logan say at last when, discouraged by theinterminable length of grandma's visit, he had resigned himself to goaway. 

The girl glanced involuntarily at Miss Leavitt's hand, which wasclenched into a fist. In it was a crisp-looking new greenback on whichat one end she thought she saw the word "Ten. "

Ten dollars! The man had made Lily Leavitt a present of ten dollars, and she had accepted it! Would he have tried to do the same with_her, _ or would he have attempted to be even more generous if she hadnot been chaperoned by the grandmother of five? Also, was it just theChristmas spirit, or had Lily done something special to earn themoney?

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BIG BLUFF

Lily Leavitt's gratitude was immense. She was a changed girl from thatmoment. Not that she ceased to like Earl Usher, who awkwardly resentedher overtures and was boyishly ashamed of them, but her jealousyseemed, after the handing over of Mr. Logan, to lose its bitterness. 

She no longer glared and talked "at" Miss Child, asking if she "woreher hair that way for a bet, " and "why some people wanted to take upall the room clerking in stores when they could get better money doinggiantess stunts in a Bowery show?" Instead she did her best to makefriends with Win and her smart little watchdog, Sadie Kirk. 

She brought them presents of hothouse fruit and chocolates, which Winrefused and Sadie nonchalantly accepted, wondering "where the Leavittcreature picked 'em up. They didn't grow on blackberry bushes, nofear. And _she_ wasn't going to let 'em spoil!"

As the desperate days before Christmas raged furiously on, Win wasstill unable to guess Mr. Meggison's real motive for putting her intothe toy department. Her duties were more exhausting than they had beendownstairs That suggested penance. On the other hand, they had morevariety and amusement, for there were five hundred different kinds oftoys to sell to five hundred different types of people. That suggestedbenignity. 

Perhaps, thought Sadie, Meggison wanted to see how much the new girlcould stand. Perhaps he wished to "sweat out of her" all the work ofwhich she was capable, the full wage worth she could give to PeterRolls before casting her aside forever. 

Or--it was just possible that, instead of exciting resentment she hadwon his respect by "cheeking" him. That had been known to happen inthe most unexpected, though now historic cases. And girls who hadawaited their discharge had been promoted, mounting slowly higher andhigher over the bodies of those who fell by the wayside, until theyhad become head buyers, receiving ten thousand dollars a year and atrip to Paris every summer. 

In any case, Win liked Toys better than Blouses, though Mr. Tobias(whose hair "left off where it began, " and who wore his eyes in bags)was a very "different proposition" from Fred Thorpe, the kind andhandsome floorwalker who loved Dora Stein, yet was fair to her rivals. If Tobias saw a young woman stop to breathe he came up and remindedher that this wasn't a matinée--they weren't having a party that daynor serving five-o'clock tea. 

The girls, too, were often rough in their ways and pushed each otherrudely about. They were surlily suspicious sometimes and seemedtemperamentally unable to trust one another, but they weregood-natured at heart. "Snap and let snap" was the unwritten law inToyland, and though they all squabbled among themselves, if a girlwere ill or had bad news her companions were ready in an instant tohelp or console. 

They mimicked Win and gave her the same nickname she had gaineddownstairs, "Miss Thank-you, " "Beg-your-pardon, " and "If-you-please. "But soon she found herself popular, and saw the girls, and even themen, adopting the gentler ways she brought among them. They seemedhalf unconsciously to fall into the soft manner they made fun of, which was a score for Win. Besides, there was Cupid, and he alone, shethought, would have been worth the move from Blouses into Toys. 

Cupid was an errand boy, employed to run with messages from onedepartment to another; but, though in Toyland there were some dollslarger, there were none more beautiful than he. His real name happenedto be Billy Slate, but he rejoiced in several others more appropriatesuch as "Bud, " "Christmas Card, " and "Valentine" That of "Cupid" wasadded to the list by Miss Child, who had more scientific, mythologicalknowledge of the youth in question than any one else at the Handsperhaps, though most of the others could boast a more intimatepersonal acquaintance with him in modern life. 

Billy, _alias_ "Bud, " _et cetera_, was a permanent fixture at PeterRolls's, having been in his present position for some time andpossessing no ambition to better it, though he had reached the matureage of "twelve, going on thirteen. " He had resisted the blandishmentsof all the prettiest girls in the store, but for some reason fell avictim to Miss Child at first sight; perhaps because she was English(his parents came from Manchester), or perhaps because she treatedhim, not like a little boy, but like a man and an equal. He adoredher promptly and passionately, and she responded, out of which arose asituation. 

Cupid sometimes received presents of violets or Malmaison pinks fromadmiring customers, gifts which he spurned with the weary scorn of amatinée idol for love letters, but had been willing to barter for sumsvarying from one cent to five, according to the freshness of theflowers. When Win drifted into his life, however, all tribute whichCupid received was laid upon her altar. He would take no money--hersmiling thanks were worth more to him than the brightest copper coinsfrom others--and an offer of candy was politely but firmly refused. 

"Pooh! Miss Child, I can get all of that stuff I want, on my face, offthe girls in the candy dep, " he explained with a blasé air. "You keepit for you and your friends, and I'll get you more. I'm tired of sweetthings myself. "

And from that time on Win's attenuated meals were eked out by Cupid'spresentation chocolates and marshmallows. Of the latter--a novelty toher--she and Sadie were very fond. They seemed nourishing, too, or, atall events, "filling, " and came in handy when you had allottedyourself only five cents for luncheon. As soon as Cupid learned hisloved one's penchant for marshmallows he contrived to produce a feweach day, even if he had to "nick" them when the "candy girls" weren'tlooking. 

The morning of Christmas Eve (the day which, Win knew, would decideher fate at the Hands) Cupid appeared with a whole box of herfavourites instead of the five or six crushed white shapes hegenerally offered in a torn bit of clean paper. 

"Why, Cupid, how did you come by this gorgeousness?" asked Win, whohad half a minute to spare in the luncheon lull. 

"Don't you worry and get a wrinkle, kid, " replied the youth, who hadpermission to apply any pet name he pleased. "The stuff's mine, allright. And now it's yours. Unless you think I sneaked it. Then you canchuck it away, box and all. See?"

"Of course I don't think you sneaked it. You wouldn't do such a thing. But--ought I to take it? That's the question. "

"'It's foolish question 786245, '" quoted Cupid with his weariestsneer. "I'm the guy what put the nut in cokernut! I guess there'll bemore where this come from in the sweet by and by. "

Win eyed him anxiously. Now where had she heard that quotation aboutthe "foolish question?" Why, it was a slang phrase of Mr. Logan's. Hehad used it only that morning, about half an hour earlier, in gay, bantering conversation with Miss Leavitt. He "blew in, " as he calledit, nearly every day now to buy something more for his "littlesister's Christmas tree, " something that he had forgotten yesterday, or to inquire earnestly after the sale of a mechanical frog, which heclaimed as his own invention and patent. He had never succeeded ingetting Win to serve him, but he was as free to look at her as a catis free to look at a king. 

Apart, however, from telling glances which Miss Child never seemed tosee, Mr. Logan appeared quite satisfied with the attentions of MissLeavitt or Sadie Kirk, who had waited upon him once or twice when Lilywas not available. 

Suddenly an idea flashed into Winifred's head. 

"Did a man give you this box for me?" she inquired. 

"Ain't I man enough?" Cupid tried bluff to hide a flush that mountedto his yellow curls. 

"Answer me. You _must_. "

"Ain't you some chicken to go on askin' silly questions about a goodthing? You just take it, kid, and be thankful"

"I can't, Cupid. I thought you liked me. "

"You bet I do, sweetie. "

"Then you wouldn't want to cheat me about such a thing, would you? I'mfond of you, Cupid, and we're friends, so I can accept presents from_you_. But I don't take them from strange men, and I should hate tofeel you cared little enough for me to play such a joke. It would getme misunderstood. "

Flattered by this appeal to and acceptance of his manhood, Cupidconfessed. 

"Well, don't have the nasty old stuff, then, " said he. "I thought Iwas doin' you a good turn. Thought gells liked strange men makin' 'empresents. The feller said 'twould be good business for you as well asme. And he tipped me fifty cents to pass you on the box. Suppose Imust hand it back to him now. "

"Do, Cupid dear, " urged Win. "But you shan't lose by that. I know youmeant no harm, and I'll give you fifty cents myself when I get mypay. "

"What kind of a jay do you take me for?" snorted Cupid. "Men don'taccept no lucre from ladies where _I_ live. I'll go chuck the guy backhis marshmallers and his dirty money, since you put it that way, mybaby doll. "

"Where is he? Waiting for you somewhere to hear the news?"

Cupid tossed his curls in the direction of the moving staircase, whichin Toyland was known as the "Oscillator. " A bored-looking youth wasstationed officially at the top in order to catch any ascending ladywho might threaten to fall; but as only the oldest and frailest everdid so, his bored expression had become chronic. 

"Chap's down at the foot o' that, " confessed the boy. "But say, won'tyou just look and see if there's a note under the cover? Maybe he'sslipped in a Christmas gift of a hundred-dollar bill or a diamondtiarey. "

"I've no curiosity, " said Win. "You may tell your friend that, and---"

"Oh, _I_ know! Tell him he'd darned better not try the same snapagain. "

"Yes, " laughed Win. "Exactly. "

Cupid darted away with the box, striding down the "osculator" as itcame rolling up, a feat forbidden. But the boy was a law unto himselfand was seldom scolded. When he had gone Win wished that she hadthought to ask how the man had found out her liking for marshmallowsBut perhaps he had invited a suggestion from Cupid. Or themarshmallows might be a coincidence. 

She did not for an instant doubt that the would-be giver was Mr. Logan, and she half hoped there was a note inside the box, in orderthat he might feel the mortification of getting it back unopened. Shehoped, also, that the disappointment might be a lesson which Mr. Loganwould take to heart, and--unless he were prepared to transfer hisattentions to Miss Leavitt or some one else equally ready to receivethem--that he would not again invade the busy land of toys. 

An hour later, however, he returned and loitered about, ostentatiouslywaiting until Miss Leavitt should be free to serve him. Win wasshowing dolls to a fussy woman who could not be satisfied with themost beguiling porcelain or waxen smile. At last, having looked atseveral dozens, she flounced away, announcing that she would go toBimgel's. This threat, being uttered in a voice intentionally shrill, was overheard by the hovering floorwalker, Mr. Tobias. 

He had never yet had occasion to scold No. 2884; and, as a matter offact, had noted her as a "lively proposition. " He had seen that if2884 had a few minutes to spare, she usually occupied them, not inpolishing her nails or talking about last night's dance, as not a fewof the girls did, but in "looking over stock, " peeping into boxes, andpeering into the background of shelves in order to see for herselfwhat was available without having to question salespeople who had beenlonger in the department than she. 

This was the sure sign of a "winner"; and besides, 2884 had the rightway with customers. She kept her temper, even with the most irritating"lemons. " Her charming enthusiasm about the toys and her knowledge oftheir mechanism (when they had any) often hypnotized customers intobuying expensive things they had not intended to take. With remarkablequickness she had picked up slang danger signals by which one"assistant" can warn another of impending trouble. 

She understood the warning cry of "ishra ankra" for a "crank, " andcould give the pencil taps telegraphing from counter to counter that anotorious "pill" or an "I'll-come-back-again" was bearing down on thedepartment. She seemed to know by instinct when she could offer tosend a toy C. O. D. For a stranger without fear of "cold pig"--havingthe thing returned unpaid--and she could give enough of her ownvitality to a tired woman to make her want to buy. 

All these virtues Mr. Tobias had discerned in 2884, and with suchheart as he had, he admired her. He intended, if she went on as shehad begun, to "set the good word going" which would reach those "atthe top. " But now, at a moment when he happened through acuteindigestion to be in a particularly fretful mood, he believed that hehad found out the "bright girl" in a grave fault. 

It was too late to inveigle the lost client back, but while Win washastily replacing dolls in boxes before taking another customer, Mr. Tobias pounced. "Why did you let that lady go without showing her anyof our best dolls?" he inquired, angling for guilt in her soul'sdepths with a fishhook glare. 

"I showed her everything of the price she wanted, and even some alittle higher, " 2884 excused herself. 

"What about the doll you all call 'Little Sister?'" Tobias threw outthe question as if it were a lasso. "I hear you've said that you won'tpart with that one if you can help it. "

Win grew pink, though she firmly gave him back look for look. LittleSister was her favourite doll, and it was an open secret that MissChild didn't wish to sell it unless she could be sure of finding it asuitable and happy home. In fact, she hated the thought of a sale. Many Teddy bears and other interesting personalities she had learnedto like, and to miss when they went the way of all good Teddy animals;but Little Sister she loved, and to barter that adorable sunny head, those laughing brown eyes and dimples, for money seemed almost as badas the auctioning of a child in the slave market. If she had hadtwenty dollars to play with she would have bought the doll forherself. As it was, she had to plead guilty to Mr. Tobias's charge. 

She changed her look of self-defence to one more deprecating yet halfmischievous; not the look of a scolded girl to an accusingfloorwalker, but that of charming young womanhood to man. 

"I'm so sorry, " she said. "I didn't forget; but I felt sure that ladywouldn't spend twenty dollars for a doll. And I _know_ I can find abetter--I mean, I know I can get some one to buy it. "

"I'll buy it, " said Mr. Logan, stepping up. 

This time he had safely caught his tantalizing rainbow trout, whichhad not a chance even to wriggle. There was 2884 without an excuse inthe shape of another customer, and there was Tobias, with whom, on thestrength of the alleged "invention, " Mr. Jim Logan had already scrapedacquaintance. 

The eyes of the girl and the man met. Logan saw that Miss Child hadalready guessed what he meant to do, or that she thought she had. Buthe believed that he had a card up his sleeve whose presence even hersharp wit had not detected. He looked forward joyously to the sceneabout to begin. 

"Get the doll I spoke of and show it to this gentleman, " commandedMr. Tobias, lingering to see that he was obeyed, for there was that inthe flushed face of 2884 which told him she was capable of a trick. 

Little Sister lived in a large, open-fronted box lined with blue silkand fluffy lace, in a desirable but not too conspicuous (Win had seento that!) corner of a shelf devoted entirely to dollhood. There shestood now, the sweet, smiling child, the image of the idealtwo-year-old baby which every girl would like to have for her own"when I'm married. "

In reaching up her hands to take down the box Win hesitated. Next butone was another doll, not unlike Little Sister to the casual eye, especially the casual eye of a mere man. Its dress was also white; itshair was of much the same gold, though not quite so radiant; its eyeswere as brown, if more beady; and it was larger, more elaboratelygowned, therefore more expensive. If Mr. Tobias recognized thedifference, would he not praise rather than blame the saleswoman, since instructions were to force high-priced articles on customerswhenever possible?

Win darted a cornerwise glance at Tobias to see if he weresuspiciously watching her. He was, with the expression of a cloudabout to emit a flash of forked lightning. Little Sister must besacrificed!

Just then, as Win reluctantly placed the box on the counter forLogan's twinkling inspection, Cupid went by on one of the endlesserrands which, as he said, "kept him jerking up and down all day likea churn. " He knew Little Sister, for had not his beloved "Kid" ruffledhis feelings by remarking on a likeness between her pet doll andhimself? _Infra dig_ as was the comparison, he had forgiven it whenthe Kid explained her affection for the type. Now that Fresh Guy whohad nearly "got him disliked" for fifty cents was going to buy thedoll!

Cupid "spotted" the trick at once and saw its cleverness. The boy"made big eyes" at Win as he stumped past, and wondered whether she"was fly enough to catch on" to what he wanted them to say. 

She was not. At that moment, when she found herself outwitted byLogan, Cupid's big hazel eyes and yellow head seemed irrelevant. 

"The price is twenty dollars, " she announced mechanically. These werethe first words she had uttered to Logan since passing him on to MissLeavitt the day of his first appearance in Toyland. 

"That's all right, " said her smiling customer. "Rather cheap for sucha handsome doll, isn't it? I think the young person I intend to giveit to will be pleased, don't you?"

"I can't say, I'm sure, " returned Miss Child with aggravatingprimness, her eyes cast down. 

"Why, you might give me your advice!"

The glare of Mr. Tobias was turned upon her again, like a two-dollarelectric torch. 

"It's quite one of our prettiest dolls, " she admitted under thesearchlight. 

"Good! I'm glad you think so. Well, here's the money, all in smallbills, I'm afraid. Would you mind just counting it over? I've got onmy gloves. "

She had to take the money from him, which gave him a chance to touchher hand, and he made the most of it. If Mr. Tobias saw what wasgoing on, he ignored it tactfully, for the great thing was to keep agood customer at any price. If the price were a flirtation, why allthe better for the girl, provided the man were chump enough to giveher a good restaurant dinner now and then. Peter Rolls had to think ofhis dividends, since he and his manager were not in business for theirhealth, and to make them satisfactory salesfolk had to be got cheap. It was "up to" the girls to take care of themselves. What they did outof business hours, Peter Rolls and Mr. Tobias did not care and didn'twant to know. 

No. 2884 required the address, which Mr. Logan seemed eager to give. 

"Write clearly, please, " he gayly commanded. "Miss--Winifred--Child. And now the number of the house. I know it as well as my own. "

"I can't accept this, " she said, not taken by surprise, because shehad been sure all along of what he meant. Only it came as a slightshock that he should have found out her whole name and the street andhouse where she lived. 

"But see here, " argued Logan, still in the low tone to which bothvoices had fallen, "I bought the doll for you when I heard you likedit. Why not? No harm in taking a doll from a friend. "

"You're not a friend, " she broke in. 

"I want to be. What will that floorwalker chap say if Little Sister isthrown back on Peter Rolls's hands? It might get you into trouble. "

"I can't help that, " Win was beginning desperately, when Earl Ushercame hurrying up from the other end of the department, where he hadbeen selling automatic toy pistols. 

"Excuse me, Miss Child, " said he briskly, "but that doll is sold. Iought to have marked it, but forgot. My fault. While you was away tolunch it happened. The purchaser is going to look in to-night, betweensix and six-thirty, to pay and take the parcel away. "

Mr. Tobias, hearing this announcement, came bustling into closerearshot again. 

"Very remiss--very remiss not to have marked the doll as sold, " hesputtered. "I don't think we can let the deal stand. _This_ gentlemanhas offered to purchase in good faith, and here's his money. Yourcustomer may as like as not go back on the bargain. "

"He won't, " said Ursus firmly. "It's a man. He's often here doingbusiness. He'll be awful mad, and we'll lose him certain sure if wethrow him down like that. I'll be responsible. "

"You!" sneered Tobias, impressed nevertheless. "Why, you ain't morethan a ten-dollar man, if you're that. This doll costs _twenty_dollars. "

"I know, and I don't pretend to have saved up a million. But thismix-up is my fault, and the man was my customer, so I ought to standthe racket. Look here, " and he proudly drew forth from some innerpocket on his enormous chest a handsome gold watch destitute of achain. "Presentation, " he announced. "You can see my name _and_ thedate. I've hocked this more'n once and got forty. Will you keep ittill my customer turns up?"

"No, " returned Tobias magnanimously. "If you're so sure of your man, Iguess it's all right, and the sale'll have to stand. I'm sorry, Mr. Logan. But you see how it is. Can't one of our young ladies show yousomething else?"

"No, thank you, not to-day, " said Logan, his long, sallow face red andthe twinkle gone out of his eyes. "It was Little Sister or nothing forme. "

But though he gathered up his mass of greenbacks and stalked away withhis smart hat on the back of his incredibly sleek head, Tobias was notgreatly worried. The young swell was sweet on Child, and wasn't abovea flirtation with red-haired Leavitt at the same time he was trying tospoon the English girl. He would come back, and soon--no fear!--to seehow his invention was going. 

"Lordy! but that was a big bluff I put up!" sighed Earl Usher toCupid, as he slid his watch into the little boy's hand. "If Tobias hadtaken me, I'd 'a' bin up a tree! Sure you can get off, sonny?"

"Dead sure, for they'll be sendin' me out. They always do. I'll managethe biz for you. "

"Good Bud! You get a quarter for yourself, see?--for puttin' me on tothe job in time. "

Mr. Tobias happened to be at a distance when Usher's customercame in and paid. But when the floorwalker inquired, atsix-thirty--characteristically remembering a small detail in theterrible Christmas rush--the transaction had been completed and LittleSister was gone. Even Win had not seen the purchaser. Ursus had comein a hurry, his client's twenty dollars in hand, and had taken awaythe box that contained the doll. There had not even been time to askif the man who had bought it looked kind and rich; but Win was toothankful to have been saved from her "scrape" with Logan to carepassionately, after all, for Little Sister's fate. 

That night, a few minutes before ten o'clock, the employees of thevarious sections were lined up (men in one aisle, girls in another) toreceive their pay envelopes and, in most cases where the "holidayextras" were concerned, their dismissals. Just in front of WinifredChild was Sadie Kirk, and Win knew that for her friend it was aquestion almost as important as that of life and death whether shewere to stay or go. 

After holiday time it was dreadfully difficult to get work, she notbeing the stuff of which stewardesses are made, and Sadie had morepluck than physical strength. Never had she entirely recovered "tone"after that attack of grippe which had lost her a good position, andthe strenuous work during these weeks at Peter Rolls's had pulled herdown. If she were to be "out of a job" things would be very bad forher; yet, as she moved up slowly, step by step, to the desk ofdestiny, she was reading a novel, calmly straining her eyes in thetrying light. Over her shoulder Win could see the name of the book, "Leslie Norwood's Wife. " Page after page Sadie turned, not with anervous flutter, but with the regularity which meant concentration. She was bent on finding out what happened to _Leslie Norwood's_ wifebefore the moment came to find out what was about to happen to SadieKirk. 

She was near the end now. But was she near enough? Win began, in hernervous fatigue and anxiety on her own account, to wager with herselfas to whether Sadie would finish that book before her turn came totake the fateful envelope. Would she? Would she not? "I bet she_will_!" Win thought. "If she does, it'll mean luck for us both!"

And she did. Just as the girl ahead of Sadie clasped her pay envelopewith a slightly trembling hand, Sadie read the last word on the lastpage, shut the volume, and tucked it under her arm. Then she took herenvelope and gave place to Win. 

They were among the few lucky ones out of the extra two thousand. Mostof the others received with their pay little printed slips signed"Peter Rolls, " announcing that it was "necessary to readjust our forcedown to the normal at this time. " Those dismissed were politelyinformed that their record was on file. Should vacancies occur wherethey might be placed in future, they would be "notified to thateffect. " Meanwhile they were thanked for loyal service. And--that wasthe end of them as far as Peter Rolls was concerned. 

He still had use, however, for Winifred Child, Sadie Kirk, Earl Usher, and two or three other "live" workers in Toyland. They compared notesjoyously; but despite her sense of relief, Win's heart was heavy forthose left out in the cold. The girls who were disappointed hurriedaway in silence, but many of the men whom No. 2884 had not thought ofas friends, scarcely as acquaintances, came up to say good-bye. Theyheld out their hands and remarked that they were "glad to have knownher. "

Some of her ways and some of her sayings were pretty good, theyguessed, and they wouldn't forget her, although they didn't supposethat they'd ever meet again. Suddenly Win realized that they had beenkind and pleasant, so far as it had lain in their power, and she, staying on, would miss the faces that were gone. She choked a littleover these men's appreciation of the difference between her "ways" andthose of some other girls, and was half ashamed that it shouldsurprise her. 

"I expect I'll have to take to the sea again, " sighed the ex-steward. "I wanted a little more time on land, but it ain't to be. Don'tforget, you and your friend Sadie, that I can get you jobs on one ofthe big greyhounds. "

"What a Christmas Eve!" Win said to herself aloud, as she almost fellinto her room at eleven-thirty. "In half an hour more it will beChristmas, and I don't suppose there's one soul with a thought for mein all Europe or America!"

But on the ugly red cover (warranted not to betray dirt) of therickety bed were two parcels--a big box and a little one. Somebodymust have been thinking of her, after all!

Revived, she cut the strings on both boxes and opened the little onefirst, on the childlike principle of "saving the best thing for thelast. "

"Lilies of the valley! Why, how lovely! Who could have sent them?"There was no name, and a question asked itself in Win's mind thatspoiled all her pleasure--but only for a moment. She unwrapped the bigbox, and on the cover (which looked curiously familiar) she read, evidently scrawled in furious haste, with pencil: "From Ursus toLygia, with respectful regards and wishes for a merry Christmas. Alsoplease accept lilies. "

(Miss Leavitt had testified her admiration for the blond giant bysending him a box of her name flowers, bought with some of the"change" Mr. Logan had told her to keep. The admired one had promptly"passed them on. " But Win did not know this, and he didn't see why sheever should. Anyhow, flowers were flowers!)

The girl was so pleased to know that the lilies came from Ursus, notanother, that she could almost have kissed them--but not quite. Then, in her relief, she lifted the cover of the large box and gave a crywhich was not unlike a sob. There, in silk and lace, with eyes closedand smiling lips, lay Little Sister. 

"Oh, his watch--his presentation watch!" she gurgled. And sitting onthe bed, with the great doll in her arms, she let fall on theunresponsive head a few tears of grief and gratitude. She understoodeverything now, even the "big bluff. "

What had been or had not been in Miss Leavitt's pay envelope Win didnot know until the morning after Christmas, that strangest Christmasof her life, which she spent resting quietly in bed. Returning nextday to Toyland, where everything looked half asleep in the earlygloom, she saw the glitter of red hair. 

"Hello!" said Miss Leavitt. "Here we are again! Did you have amerry---"

She stopped short, her eyes fastened on a tiny spray of pearly bellshalf hidden in the folds of the other's black silk blouse. For aninstant she forgot what she had meant to say, gasped slightly, closedher lips, opened them as if to speak, shut her teeth together with asnap, swallowed heavily, and went on where she had brokenoff--"Christmas?"

Win thanked her, said "Yes, " and asked politely how Miss Leavitt hadspent her holiday. This gave the girl with red hair time to controlthe temper which accompanied it. But if, in that brief interval ofuncertainty, she had burst out with the fierce insult which burned hertongue, never again could she have ventured to claim friendship withWinifred Child. And if she had lost her right to claim it, all thefuture might have been different for one of them. 

CHAPTER XIX

"YES" TO ANYTHING

At last it was July, and New York felt like a vast hermetically sealedTurkish bath into which all were free to enter, but once in, mustremain, as there were no exits and no closing hours. Most of thepeople you read about in the Sunday supplements (except those whocommit murders and such things) had escaped to the sea or mountainsbefore the Turkish bath opened for the summer. But there is neveranything in Sunday supplements about the assistants in departmentstores, for they are fashionable only in restricted districts, andthey do not commit murders and such things, though they mightoccasionally enjoy doing so. 

It had been, said the newspapers, an exceptionally gay winter andspring. Seldom had there been so many beautiful and importantdébutantes. Lovely girls and admiring men had decorated each page ofthe calendar, like rose petals. There had been cup races forautomobiles, and football and baseball matches for men and girls, andother matches less noisy but almost as emotional. There had beendinners and balls, first nights at the opera, Washington's Birthdayweek-end house parties in the Adirondacks, and Easter church paradesfor those who had not gone abroad or to Florida. Among those who choseFlorida (there had been a great deal about this in the Sundaysupplements) were Miss Rolls and her brother. Ena had collapsed underan alleged attack of grippe after Lord Raygan went away and hisengagement with Portia (_alias_ "Pobbles") Gregory--the rich MissGregory--was announced. Some people were mean enough to say that itwas not grippe but grief which laid Ena low in the height of theseason; and if there was anything in this gossip, the grief would havebeen greater had Miss Rolls known that she herself was (indirectly)responsible for the happy ending of Raygan's romance. 

A letter written by Lady Eileen while at Sea Gull Manor to her cousinPobbles had (so Pobbles confessed later) suddenly opened the lady'seyes to her own true feelings. She began to wonder if Rags had lovedher "for herself, " after all. And, anyhow, she didn't want a girl likeEna Rolls to get him. So she met the ship on which Lady Raygan, Rags, and Eileen returned to Ireland, in order to "make a dead set" at theman she had once discarded. An engagement was the consequence, and inthe first letter Rags wrote to thank his kind host and hostess on LongIsland, he asked for congratulations. 

It was the same day that Ena began to sneeze so dismally that the onlyplace for her was bed. And when she could leave its seclusion the nextonly place was Palm Beach. She said she would die unless she could goto Palm Beach, so mother took her, and Peter took them both, not tospeak of Ena's maid. 

He did not wish to play courier. To turn his back on New Yorkinterfered seriously with his plans and half plans and hopes and halfhopes. But father would not go, and mother and Ena could not withouta man. Peter was the only one available at the moment, and it wasApril when Ena felt well enough to face the North again. By this timethe news of her engagement to the Marchese di Rivoli had been copiedfrom all the principal papers into the little papers, and even themost confirmed cats must be acknowledging far and near that to lose anearl and gain a marquis is a step up in life. 

It was, of course, not ideal that the Marchese di Rivoli had noremaining family estates of which his _fiancée_ could talk, and therewere creatures ready to swear not only that he had come to Palm Beachto pick up an heiress, but that the penniless princess who introducedhim to Miss Rolls had received a commission. Still there are alwaysfamily estates in the market, and where a coronet is there is gossipalso. Only the cat tribe start or believe it, and even cats purr to a_marchesa_, lest they may want to visit Italy next year. 

In the Turkish bath which was New York that July, Peter Rolls'sdepartment store was one of the hot rooms. Miss Rolls did not comeover from Long Island to choose her trousseau there, as a badlyinformed newspaper announced that she would do. She went to London andParis instead, because it was cooler as well as smarter to put theAtlantic between her and "New York with the lid off. " She ran overwith the divorced Italian princess who had made her acquainted withthe Marchese di Rivoli, and mother and Peter were released. 

No doubt other big stores were as hot or hotter than Peter Rolls'sthat July; but it seemed to Winifred Child that the Tropic of Cancermight have breezes which the Hands missed. Those of the salespeoplewho did not look as if at any moment their eyes might come out and alltheir veins burst, were living advertisements for Somebody'sAnti-Anemia Mixture before the mixture was taken. Win was of thelatter type. She had become so pale and thin that Sadie Kirk comparedher to a celery stalk. Sadie herself had, according to her owncriticism, "shrunk and faded in the wash, " but the two girls had nowfew chances of "passing remarks" on each other's appearance, for, though Sadie was still in Toys, Win had been put into Mantles. 

This in itself was a solution of the Meggison mystery. The girl's"cheek" had frightened the would-be "dog" and reminded him that amodel superintendent must never lose a born saleswoman. But he had notsent for Win again, and Gloves were not for such as she. 

Sadie, having "sauced" her landlady, found it wise to change herquarters. She had taken a room in an apartment house two blocksremoved from her former home, and Win, not being able to afford a"flit, " remained at the old address. At first, when her pay wasincreased by two dollars a week, she had intended to save and followSadie. One had, however, to live mostly on ice-cream soda in the hotweather, which cost money. Besides, even had she possessed thedollars, she lacked energy of late. It was easier to keep on doingwhat one had done than do anything new. And, in any case, nothing thatone did seemed to matter. 

As for the lion tamer, Peter Rolls's shop saw him no more. He had "gothis nerve back" and had returned to lion taming, not because the oldlife drew him irresistibly, but because there was far more money indominating real lions than in selling Teddy ones. 

In the birth of Earl Usher's adoring love for Win the demise of theanimal who had "died on him" was forgotten. "Nerve" and courage andlove and the desire to conquer were one in his heart. When a "goodsummer job at Coney" came his way, through an old friend in the "showbusiness, " he took it. 

Reluctant as he was to leave Peter Rolls, which meant leaving "hisgirl, " a change of position offered the only hope of obtaining her inthe end. And despite every discouragement from his Lygia, Ursus didsecretly cherish this hope. As she no longer lived in Toyland when hewent, the wrench of parting was not what it would have been to leaveher at the mercy of any man who could afford to buy a doll. There wasno excuse for men to "butt into" Mantles, unless accompanied by femalebelongings, and thus accompanied, their sting was gone. 

At Coney Island Ursus was earning thirty dollars a week instead often, and was encouraged by crowds of admiring girls (who watched hisperformance and bought his photographs) to consider himselfexceedingly eligible on that income. Many indeed made it plain to himthat he would have been worth taking for his face, his muscles, andhis spangled tights alone. 

Sometimes on Sundays Sadie Kirk persuaded Win to "go to Coney for ablow. " The crowd on the boats was alarming and on the beach when yougot there, but the air was splendid, and poor Ursus beamed over hislions' heads with pride and pleasure. These few excursions, however, had been Winifred's only outings, except a play or two seen from agallery, since she came to make her fortune in America; and as eachday the heat pressed more heavily upon her with its leaden weight, shefelt that she would collapse and "do something stupid" if she couldnot have a change. Anything--anything at all that was different andwould break the monotony!

Lily Leavitt, who was in the Mantles, too, had never ceased to befriendly, and had often invited Win to go out with her in the longsummer evenings, but always in vain, month after month, until one dayin mid-July, when the heat wave had surged to its record height. Itjust chanced--if there be such a thing as chance--to happen on the daywhen the girl's craving for a change had become an obsession, almostan illness. 

It was a little past noon, and the seniors in Mantles had gone out tolunch. They were rather by way of being aristocrats, these seniors, for the mantle department, Jewellery, and some others worked "oncommission. " Salaries were no larger than elsewhere, but a handsomepercentage was paid on sales; and those tigers and tigresses who werestrong and ferocious enough to grab meat from under their weakercomrades' noses did extremely well. The Mantles girls who had gone outwere champion tigresses. They could afford to eat at something likereal restaurants, and as there was nothing worth rushing back for, they would not return until the last moment. 

Lily Leavitt, who was qualifying as a tigress, had just snatched asale which ought to have been Win's, but that did not count in theirprivate relations. It was business, and Win was "welcome to play thesame game"--if she could. Only, there was no danger that she would. Win was not of the stuff from which tigresses are made, and wasincapable of seizing for herself anything--be it a seat in the subwayor the chance to sell a mantle--which some other human creature wasstriving to get. 

Win bore Lily no grudge for having "bagged" her customer and gained inthree minutes three dollars which should rightfully have found theirway to her purse. She listened without resentment to the descriptionof a hat which Lily intended to buy with the money--a "sticker" it hadproved in Hats, and was now marked down to half price. Lily had had aneye on it for some time, and would, of course, get it "ten per. " off. 

"I bought me a sweet party dress last week--a bargain, " Miss Leavittwent on, seeing that Win had no intention of "slanging" her for whatshe had just done. "It came outta commission on that green chiffonevening cloak and that white yachtin' I snapped off Kit Vance when shewas daydreamin' and let me catch onto her customer like you done justnow. Things is down to no price this hot weather. It's an ill windblows no one good, and now is us guyls' time to get a bit of our own. P. R. Always manages to make his hay, rain or shine. And even with ourten per. Off, it's forty per. Profit for him. When you think there'stwo thousand folks forced to buy on the premises, you savvy what hesqueezes outta us! If we do pick up a bargain, it's a rare chance. Iwonder you don't hustle more'n you do and make enough com to buyyourself sumpin' nice. Your sheryt waists are the wuyst in the dep, ifyou don't mind my sayin' so, and the guyls speak of it. Now if you hada party dress to doll up in, I could give you the time of your lifeto-night. "

"Could you?" echoed Win, more in the desire to turn Miss Leavitt'sattention from her "shirt waist" to something else than because shewished to hear about the great opportunity. 

Miss Leavitt had offered her numerous opportunities of allegedentertainment, none of which, though glowingly described, had evertempted her to acceptance. At first she had been afraid of Lily'sfruit and chocolates and theatre tickets, which, like themarshmallows, might have come from Mr. Logan. But for the last threeor four months, since the two girls migrated together into Mantles, Logan had been conspicuously absent. Apparently he had not invented acloak as well as a toy! Win no longer connected Lily Leavitt'soccasional invitations with him. Her refusals were prompted merely bya disinclination for Lily's society out of business hours and theconviction that her friends would be no more congenial than herself. Winifred now, however, particularly wished to show her companion thatshe bore no animosity for the filched commission, therefore she becameloquacious. 

"I don't need to spend my hard-earned dollars on a party dress, as ithappens, " she said. "I can save all my pennies for the hire of mytypewriter, which is going to lead me from the Hands some day alongthe road to fortune. I've got the most gorgeous gown you can possiblyimagine. I don't believe _Cinderella's_ godmother could give heranything better. There's only one trouble. I shall never be invited toa party good enough for it. "

"I've invited you to as swell a party as there could be in little oldNew York, " boasted Miss Leavitt. "I ain't foolin'. That's straight. Honour bright, cross my heart. "

"Oh, but you didn't invite me. You said you would if I had a dress. You've got only my word for that, " Win reminded her. 

"I meant to invite you all the same, dress or no dress, " Lilyconfessed, "I'd o' lent you one. Have you really got something swell?If you have, now's your chance to show it off. It's an artist givesthis party. I sit to artists sometimes, Sundays, for my hair. I guessyou offen seen it on covers o' magazines. This artist friend o' mine'sthe best o' the whole bunch. "

"Man or woman?" Win wanted to know. 

She expected the answer to be "man, " but Lily did not seem to hear. Her face looked dreamy. 

"It's the loveliest house where the party'll be, " she said. "'Tain'tthe artist's own. It's some relation's that's lent it for the summerwhile they're away at the seashore. I bin there. It's in the Fifties, just off Fift' Av'noo. Tonight it'll be cool as snow, andeverything'll be iced for supper. Iced consummay, chicken salad coldas the refrigerator, iced champagne cup flowin' like water; ice-creamand strawb'ries, the big, sweet, red ones from up north, where theykeep on growin' all summer, and lilies and roses from the country togive away to us when we go home. "

Win forgot the question that had not been answered. She seemed to seethose strawberries and to smell the sweetness of roses and lilies in ahouse "as cool as snow. "

"Heavenly!" she sighed. "I didn't remember there were such things inthe world!"

"Well, come with me to-night and remind yourself, " coaxed MissLeavitt. "You needn't be afraid, because I said it was artists, tobutt into some rowdy crowd. They'll be as quiet and refined as mice. They're more your kind than mine, I guess. "

"But who invites me?" Win made another bid for information. 

"My artist friend said I could bring any one I wanted to bring, and Iwant to bring you. I don't just know who all'll be there, but I guessnot many, and it's a real swell house to see. You always refuseeverything I ask you to, but I do think you might say yes this onetime and show you're not proud and stuck up. It'd do you good!"

"I believe it would, and I'll go!" cried Win. She was in the mood tosay "yes" to anything. 

"Hully gee! That's the best thing's happened to me since the measles!"exclaimed Miss Leavitt jovially. "I'll call for you at your placehalf-past nine this evening, so you can have a good rest before youbegin fixin' yourself up. "

"It's an engagement, " said Win, with a kind of self-defiance. 

She had wished for a change, "anything for a change, " and presto! herwish had been suddenly granted by fate. Rather spitefully granted, itwould seem, because to go to a "party" with Lily Leavitt was the verylast thing she would have chosen. And spitefully, also, as if topunish her own foolishness in wishing, she accepted such goods as thegods had mischievously provided. 

"You've said yes, and now you must stick to it, " she told herself inpreparation for a wave of regret, but to her surprise the day wore onand the expected tide of repentance did not set in. 

The girl realized that she was looking forward, actually lookingforward to the evening. It would be like walking wide awake into theHall of Dreams to put on a dress beautiful enough for a princess, andeat ice-cream and big red strawberries in a house "cool as snow"instead of sitting in her hot bedroom practising on the hiredtypewriter or panting on her bed, dead to everything in the worldexcept a palm-leaf fan. 

When she had been a little girl, invited to children's parties, it hadnot been of the slightest importance whether she liked the child ornot. The party was the thing. Now history was repeating itself in hernature. The blank monotony of life and work had given back thatchildish eagerness for fun, no matter whence it came. She did not carewhose ice-cream and strawberries she was going to eat, provided shegot them and they were good. Besides, it would be like finding an oldlost friend to look into her mirror (it was cracked and turned one'scomplexion pale green, with iridescent spots; but that was a detail)and see a bare-necked, white-armed girl in evening dress. 

There was a new way of doing the hair which Win had noticed on asmiling wax beauty in Peter Rolls's Window-World and had dimly wishedto try for herself. Only dimly, because if her hair were glossy andtrim it suited those plain, ninety-eight-cent shirt waists better thanthe elaborate fashions affected by Lily Leavitt and one or two of themore successful tigresses who cheaply copied expensive customers. Nowthere was an incentive for the experiment and Win laughed at theeagerness with which she looked forward to the moment of making it, laughed patronizingly, as she might have laughed at a child's longingfor Christmas. 

"Anyhow, it's something that I _can_ laugh, " she thought, recalling, as she often did, her boast to Peter Rolls, Jr. "And I haven't criedyet!"

She had not guessed how vividly the sight of the Moon dress andputting it on would bring Mr. Balm of Gilead to her mind. But as shestood gazing into the greenish glass, with her hair very successfullydone in the new way and the Moon gown shimmering night-blue andsilver, it was as if Peter Rolls came and looked over her shoulder, their eyes meeting in the mirror. 

Yes, she saw him for an instant as clearly as that. He was there. Hewas her friend, the nicest, most altogether delightful man she hadever seen; the one she knew best and needed most, though their actualacquaintanceship was but a few days old. The kind blue eyes were trueand brave, and said: "I dare you not to believe in me, as I believe inyou!"

Then the vision (it had almost amounted to that) was gone like abroken bubble. Win felt physically sick, as if the one thing worthhaving in the world had been shown her for a second, then suddenlysnatched away forever. 

The silvery sheen and the faint, lingering perfume of that Nadinemodel gown had woven a magic carpet of moonbeams and transported herback to the mirrored room on the _Monarchic_ for an instant. But itwas only for an instant. Then the Columbus Avenue bedroom, with itswindow open to the roar and rush of the "L, " had her again, and madethe Moon dress and the Moon-dress dreams seem ridiculously unsuited tolife. 

Win touched a switch which shut off light from the one unshadedelectric bulb hanging like a lambent pear over her head. Then, palm-leaf fan in hand, she sat down in the blue summer darkness toawait the coming of Miss Leavitt. 

For the first time she repented her promise to go out. Monotony waspreferable to the party as she pictured it--a silly, giggling crowd ofcrude young people among whom she, the stranger, would be like a mutednote on a cheap piano. Should she stay at home, after all, and tellLily that the heat had made her too limp to stir? It would be quitetrue. But no. If she stayed she would not have the courage to undressfor a long, long time. She would just sit there in the dark by thewindow in the Moon gown, its perfume surrounding her with the past, shutting her up, as it were, in the mirror room with Mr. Balm ofGilead who had never really existed. 

Yet, had he not? What had the eyes in the cracked glass said just now?Why shouldn't she believe them instead of Ena Rolls's dreadful hints?Why might not a sister, even with the best intentions, be mistakenabout a brother?

These were exactly the sort of questions that were upsetting andaltogether useless to ask one's self, and Win jumped up to turn on theelectric light again. She _would_ go with Lily Leavitt!

Five minutes later a taxicab--a real, live, magnificent, unthinkablyexpensive taxicab--stopped and chortled in front of the apartmenthouse in which Mrs. McFarrell's flat was one of many. Heads flew outof windows, for the thing was unbelievable, and among other heads wasWin's. 

Instinct cried that the chortling was for her. The balcony where therubber plants had died and mummied themselves, being scarcely morethan a foot wide, she was able to see a face, crowned with red hairand white as a _Pierrette's_ in the lights of the street, lookinganxiously up from the cab window. Its expression implored the guest tohurry down, because each heart-throb meant not a drop of red blood, but several red cents. Win caught the message, and seizing the ancientthough still respectable evening cloak which had spent months in atrunk with the "New Moon, " she flew downstairs. 

"What an extravagant creature!" she gasped, breathless when after awasted sixty seconds at most the taxi was _en route_. 

"I had a present from a gentleman friend, " said Lily in aself-satisfied voice, adding hastily, in deference to Miss Child's"stuck-up primness, " "a filopena present, to choose myself anything Iliked with. I thought us bein' in party dress, and you sort o' tiredout, a taxi'd be just about the best thing goin'. "

This reduced Win to the necessity for gratitude, and after months ofthe "L, " the subway, and the crosstown car, the girl could not helprevelling in a taxi. She refused to be depressed by the gloomyspectacle of lower-class New York in the throes of a heat wave--pallidpeople hanging out of windows or standing at corners to be eased oftheir torture by the merciful spray from fire hydrants; barefootedhalf-naked children staring thirstily at soda fountains in bright, hotdrug stores they could never hope to enter--every one limp, lethargic, glistening unhealthily with horrid moisture, all loathing themselvesand indifferent to each other. Sometimes Win felt that these were hertrue brothers and sisters, the only ones who could understand, becausethey were the only ones who really suffered; but to-night she darednot think of them. If she did, because of what they endured she couldnot enjoy the ice-cream and strawberries in the snow coolness of theartist's borrowed house. 

New York not being her own city, its different divisions lacked forher the meaning and importance they had for those at home; thereforeshe was disappointingly calm when Lily made the taxi stop in front ofa house only three or four doors off Fifth Avenue. Miss Leavitt hadthe fare ready, with a small tip for the driver, and the two were outof the cab, standing in the street, before Win noticed a thing thatstruck her sharply and quickly as being very strange. 

"Why!" she exclaimed, "we must have come to the wrong place. All thesehouses are shut. Their doors and windows are boarded up!"

CHAPTER XX

THE CLOSED HOUSE

"It's all right, " said Lily. "Don't you remember I told you the housewas lent to my artist friend by the folks who own it and who've goneaway for the summer to the seashore? The front door and windows wereboarded up, I guess, like they always are, before the house was lent. My friend lives in the back part, and the caretaker looks aftereverything, but it's awful nice. You needn't be afraid you're goin' towaste your grand dress. Say, it's some swell street, ain't it?"

Lily talked fast and slid an arm through Win's in the thin silk kimonocloak, encouraging her to mount the steps. But Win objected to beinghustled. She paused to look up at the house front which--like all itsneighbours except a big, lighted building at the corner, that had theair of being a club--had apparently been put to sleep for the summermonths. 

The dark-brown façades were expressionless as the faces of mummies. Smooth boards had been neatly fitted into the window frames and madeto cover front doors. There seemed at first glance to be no way in, but as Winifred slowly ascended the steps of the fourth house from thecorner, she made out the lines of a little door cut in the boardswhich protected the big one. There was no handle to break the smooth, unpainted surface of wood--old, well-seasoned wood which had evidentlyserved the same purpose year after year--but there was a small, inconspicuous keyhole, and into this Miss Leavitt deftly fixed a keywhich she took from her hand bag. 

"My friend sent me this, " she explained, "to save us waiting, 'causethere's only one servant, and he might be busy. Say, this is real fun, ain't it?"

"It's--it's quite like a sort of adventure, " Win answered "I had noidea the house would be shut up, or---"

"It'll make it all the cooler, " said Lily. She had got the little dooropen, and the space between it and the house door it protected couldbe seen in the street lights, like a miniature vestibule. "Squeeze inand feel around till you find the electric bell, " she went on. "Someone'll open the real door, and I can lock up behind us. "

"Why lock up?" argued Win, hesitating. "Aren't there others coming?"

"My, yes, unless they're all here. But it wouldn't do to leave acover-up door like this standing open. If the police happened alongand saw, they'd think there was something wrong and make my friend awhole lot of bother. "

Win saw the force of this explanation, and stooping to pass throughthe low aperture, found herself close to a pretentiously carvedportal. The electric bell revealed itself to groping fingers, and toher surprise a few seconds after she had touched it, without hearing asound, the door opened. 

In the dimness of a hall or large vestibule the figure of a manloomed black against dark gray. Win could see of him only that he wastall and straight and prim, like a well-trained servant, and his voicewas a servant's voice as he said: "Please be a little careful, miss, not to trip. We have to keep it rather dark here, but there's plentyof light inside Let me show you through the hall. "

Win thanked him, but turned inside the door to ask: "Aren't youcoming, Miss Leavitt?" (They had never been upon Christian nameterms. )

"Yes, I'm just turning the key, " replied Lily. "Go along. I'llfollow. "

Win went on through the dusk, dimly seeing panelled walls. She heardthe door shut sharply behind her and supposed that Lily had come in, but at the same instant another door opened ahead and a soft wave ofrosy light flowed out. 

"Walk in, if you please, miss, " requested the tall servant standingattentive, and mechanically Win obeyed. 

Lily Leavitt had not exaggerated--this was a "swell house, " and "coolas snow. " The room into which she had been ushered was a dining-room, and at first glance was all one rosy glow--walls, drawn curtains, thick, mossy carpet, brocade-upholstered furniture, lamps and candleshades. The table was a shining bunch of lilies in a garden ofdeep-red roses seen at sunset, and the glitter of silver and gleam ofglass was a bright sprinkle of dewdrops catching the red westernlight. 

It was so long since Win had been in a pretty room or had seen acharmingly decorated table that for a few seconds she lost herself inthe sheer joy of beauty. The sunset-garden simile flashed into hermind and pleased her. She was glad that she had come. The guests mightbe uninteresting, of the Lily Leavitt sort, and the artists might beso called only by themselves. The room might be over-gorgeous bydaylight, but it was beautiful thus lighted, with a rosy radiance fromabove, bringing out the whiteness of damask, the snow purity ofcamellias crowding a crystal bowl, and the ruby splendour ofstrawberries piled on their own leaves. 

What a wonderful sight after months of the Hands restaurant and freelunches with five-cent chocolate in busy drug stores! Oh, yes, she wasglad she had come, and she must look, look, look at this beautifulpicture, so that she might remember its details and hold it before hereyes, like a delicately painted transparency, in front of futurerealities. 

But it was in carrying out this intention, in taking in the details, that Win's heart suddenly bounded and then missed a beat. The tablehad two chairs drawn up to it. It was small and round, and on it onlytwo places were laid. 

Win turned her head and looked for Lily Leavitt. Lily was not there, neither was the tall, respectable servant. But a smiling man inevening dress was just coming into the room with the ingratiating airof one who is a little late for an appointment. 

"How do you do, Miss Child?" Jim Logan cordially inquired, holding outhis hand. "This is mighty good of you!"

A thousand thoughts whirled after each other through the girl's head, like the mechanical horses on a circular toy race course, such as shehad often sold at Peter Rolls's. Round and round they wildly turnedfor an instant, then began to slow down. 

This house was closed for the summer. The front was boarded up, andperhaps the back windows also. No lights could be seen, and probablyno sounds heard. Two places only were laid for supper. Lily, then, hadgone--had always meant to go and leave her here, had been bribed tobring her and go. Oh, but it must have been a big bribe this time, forsurely Lily Leavitt would never dare look her in the face again! Oneof them would have to disappear from the mantle department of theHands. Was Logan giving Lily enough money to make up for a sacrificeof all those commissions, or did Lily think that after to-nightshe--Winifred Child--would never come back to Peter Rolls's?

As that question asked itself loud bells jangled in Win's head. Shefelt as if she were losing her senses. But no, she must not--must notdo that. Never in her life had she so much need to keep them all asnow, in this locked house, where she had no help to hope for save whather own wits might give, and no one could hear or see what happened toher except this smiling man and his well-trained servant. For alloutside this was an empty house. 

She steadied herself, the more readily because something in the narroweyes twinkling into hers said that Jim Logan had expected her toscream and make a scene. Never until now had she imagined it possibleto be afraid of him. In the park, when he had stopped his car tofollow and speak to her, she had been a little startled, a good dealannoyed. Then, when Ursus had opportunely arrived to frighten himaway as easily as the _Spider_ frightened _Miss Muffet_, she had beenimpishly amused. 

In Toys at Peter Rolls's she had been vexed, irritated, but neverhotly angry. The young man's persistence had not seemed serious enoughto call "persecution. " She had rather enjoyed "shunting" him off uponLily Leavitt, and thwarting him through Cupid and Earl Usher. It hadnever occurred to her that behind the unfailing smile and thetwinkling gray eyes the brutal ferocity of the animal might lurk. 

She had thought that he had forgotten her long ago and turned hisattentions elsewhere. What girl, unless silly and Victorian, would beafraid of a dude who lived for the sleekness of his hair and thespick-and-spanness of his clothes? Yet now Win was afraid, and she didnot think it was because she had suddenly become silly or Victorian. This aquiline-faced young man with the prominent jaw was looking ather as the primitive brute looks at the prey under his paws, and if hesmiled and twinkled, it was but as the primitive brute might purr. 

Winifred thought of this, and she thought, too, that when the prey hadpresence of mind to feign sleep or death the brute was said not tokill, after all. 

She did not put her hand into the hand that Logan held out, butneither did she turn to run from him. "This is quite a surprise, " sheremarked quietly. 

"A pleasant surprise, I hope, " he suggested. 

"A sort of practical joke, I suppose, " the girl said. 

"Well, yes, that's just what it is, " Logan smiled, evidently wonderingat her calmness and not sure whether to take it as a good or bad omen. "It seemed to be the only way I could get you to accept anyinvitation of mine. "

"Rather a high-handed way!" said Win, shrugging her shoulders. "Still--here I am. This seems to be a nice house. Is it yours?"

"It's my father's. We're all supposed to be somewhere else for thesummer. But I run in sometimes. My servant looks after me. He's asdevoted as the servants in books. I pay him to be. There's nothing Iwant done that he wouldn't do. "

"He appears to have made you a very nice supper. " Win's eyes rested onthe table. 

"Nothing could be too good for you. If I've got you here--well, sortof under false pretences--there'll be no false pretences aboutanything else now I _have_ got you. There's a little surprise in thoseflowers by your plate. I hope you'll like it. "

"A peace offering?" suggested Win lightly. 

"Yes. And a love token. You know I've been in love with you, youbewitching thing, just madly in love, since that night in the park. Inever rested till I saw you again at Peter Rolls's. And then I knew Icouldn't rest until---"

"Wait!" exclaimed Win, putting out both hands to hold him off as hecame close. "Wait--_please!_" She still spoke lightly. "I'm yourguest. I quite understand that 'might makes right!' But there'sanother law--the law of hospitality, isn't there? This is--a greatadventure. Let me get into the spirit of it before you say or do anymore. Give me time--to breathe. Where may I put my cloak? Perhapsyou've a long mirror somewhere? I want to see if I'm beautiful enoughfor my background. "

Logan yielded to the hands which pushed him away. It charmed him thatthis tall, spirited creature was taking things in a debonair way. Hethought it splendid that she should talk of an adventure and ofentering into the spirit of it. If she had made a fuss and tried toescape and refused to eat supper with him, there would have been somepleasure in conquering, but not the same pleasure there would be in ajolly little supper with a pretty girl who gayly acknowledged that the"joke was on her, " and then making love to her afterward. 

Not that he quite trusted the strange creature yet. She might be likea kitten that submits to be petted while lying in wait for its chanceto spring. But this kitten might lie in wait as long as it liked. Thechance to spring wouldn't come. By and by the kitten would discoverthat fact if the hope were in its mind, for he meant business thistime. 

"There's a room next door my mother and sister use for their boudoir, "he said graciously. "It's full of long mirrors, and you can have allthe electric light you want, but the furniture's covered up. Thedining-room and my den are the only places that are shipshape, I'mafraid. "

Logan walked out into the hall and threw open one of the doors thatopened into it. "Here you are!" he announced, switching on a blaze ofelectric light that showed a small room shrouded in white covers. "Thefirst thing you see is a life-size picture of yourself. I guess that'swhat you want. "

"You have guessed right. You deserve a prize, " Win answered. 

In the lighted boudoir a mirror faced the door. 

"Will you give me a few minutes to myself?" she asked. "I may just aswell confess that this surprise of yours has--gone to my head alittle, as your champagne probably will--when I drink it. The hotweather has been taking it out of me horribly, and I'm not verystrong. If I may sit still for five minutes and shut my eyes andthink, why--I'm sure I shall be a more amusing guest at supper. "

Logan, who had touched the electric-light switch inside the door, stood on the threshold, barring the way. Win did not try to push pasthim, nor did she show any impatience, nor even eagerness. He staredher in the eyes as if to ask: "What trick do you hope to play, Iwonder? Do you think I'm such a blamed idiot as to leave a way outopen after all the trouble and expense I've put myself to on youraccount?"

But being perfectly sure that there was no way out, no trick in herpower seemed worth worrying about--unless she had some melodramaticlittle bottle of poison concealed about her which she would drain anddie, like the heroine of an old-fashioned play. He was certain thatthe brave, vital young creature who had seized his fancy would donothing of the kind, however, and he felt that it was safe to humourher. 

"You can even go to sleep on the sofa, if you like, provided you'llpromise to dream of me, " he said, "and if you'll let me come and wakeyou up. Oh, I've caught you looking at the keyhole! There's no key init, you see, for me to lock you in--or for you to lock me out. "

"Neither of us would be so medieval, would we?" she laughed. "Thatwould be a silly way to begin the evening. Now that I am here I amgoing to make the very, very best of it, I promise you!"

"That's right! You're the girl of my heart!" said Logan, and, steppingaway from the door, let her walk into the lighted boudoir. 

Gently and slowly, almost coquettishly, she shut him out, smiling intohis face until the oak panels had closed between him and her. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE TELEPHONE

The boudoir was stuffy and smelled of moth powder With its ivory-whitewalls and masses of sheeting it looked crudely bright in the glare ofelectricity switched on by Logan. A glance at the closed bay windowshowed that outside the glass was a screen of unpainted wood. Therewas no door save that through which Win had just entered. 

All the furniture was pushed against the walls, except a writing-deskwith gilded legs, which stood in the embrasure of the big window, andto this the girl ran softly, on tiptoe, across the bare parquet floor. It was covered with sheeting, which she turned carefully back thatnothing might be disturbed and, in falling, make a noise. Almost shehad reached the limit of her strength and had no breath even towhisper the "Thank heaven!" she felt, seeing what she had prayed tofind--a telephone and directory. 

It was the hope of this that had upheld her through the scene whichalready seemed dreamlike. But though telephone and book were here, shewas far enough yet from being out of danger. She had not seen thehouse number, as the boards which covered the front door covered italso. Knowing the street and the name of the man who owned the house(if Logan had told the truth), she could find the telephone number inthe book, but it meant a waste of time. 

And then, Logan might have lied. This might not be his father's house. Or, if it were, the telephone might have been cut off for the summerin the family's absence. She could not be sure of that till the lastmoment, for the instant Logan heard her talk he would try to tear heraway from the telephone. If only there were a key or a bolt--thefrailest, slightest bolt, just strong enough to keep the man out forfive minutes! But it was useless to wish for what could not be. Shemust do her best with the ammunition at hand, and be quick about it, for here was her fort of refuge, and she must hold it while she firedher one shot. 

On the desk lay a large tortoise-shell paper knife. That, thrust underthe door as a wedge, would be almost as good as a lock. At least shemight count on it to protect her for those so necessary five minutes. But if she pushed it through to the other side Jim Logan would see theflat, brown blade stick out like a defiant tongue over the door sill, if he were in the hall keeping watch. Knowing that she could notescape, perhaps he had returned to the dining-room, perhaps he wasgiving instructions to his servant--perhaps any one of a dozen things, yet she could not count on any of them!

She took the paper knife, and holding it firmly by its carved handle, she put the blade under the sole of her foot and thus snapped it offshort. 

The thick end, still attached to the handle, was just not too thick topush part way under the door. Win could only hope that it might holdwhen need came. 

Now for the book! As she began turning over the pages she found thather hands were trembling. She had to repeat the alphabet from thebeginning before she could remember where the letter "L" came in. 

Yes, there was the name--Logan. There were many Logans, but only onein this particular street. With a blunt pencil attached to a smallwriting-pad she scribbled down the telephone and house number to havethem before her eyes, lest in her frantic excitement she might confusethe two in her mind. 

These preparations made, the girl's heart quickened as the fatefulmoment came. The prompt response from Central was heavenly music. TheLogan family had not studied economy and cut off their telephone. "Give me the nearest police station quick!" she added to the number, and at the sound of an hysterical note in her voice Logan's hand wason the door knob. 

If the wedge failed she was lost. But bending over the desk, thereceiver at her ear, she dared not turn to see what was happening. 

"You young devil! Let me in, or you'll be sorry all your life!" Loganshouted through the door, giving the heavy oak panels a kick. 

"Is that the police?" Win spoke loudly that Logan might hear. She gavethe number of the house, then hurried on: "For God's sake send atonce. The house is shut up, but by a trick a girl has been brought inby young Mr. Logan. She's in great danger. It's she who iscalling--begging for help--quick--quick--he's here!"

_Crash!_ The door flew wide and banged against the wall, Logan almostfalling into the room as the wedge shook loose. Slipping on thesmooth parquet, he lost his balance for an instant, and before hecould reach the girl to snatch the receiver from her hand, she haddashed through the door and into the hall. There she would have beenstopped by the servant if she had not dodged under his arm and dartedinto the dining-room. Once in, she slammed the door shut in the faceof Logan's man, and fumbled wildly to turn the key her tremblingfingers found. 

Something was wrong--or else it was the fault of those shakingfingers. The key would not turn. Win set her shoulder to the door andpushed against the panels with the whole strength of her slim body. But it was not enough. The door gave and pushed her back. Then, realizing that she could not hold it against superior force, shesuddenly let go and ran to stand at bay behind the table. 

When Jim Logan, all the latent brutality in him wide awake, camebounding over the threshold she faced him across his silver andflowers and glittering glass. 

"Come here!" he said in a voice curiously unlike the jovial tones shehad known as his. 

"No!" she panted. "I'll stay where I am till the police arrest you asa kidnapper. "

"You'll not stay!" he flung at her. "If you won't come out of that, I'll fetch you. "

The girl stood behind one of the two chairs drawn up to the table andboth hands convulsively clutched the high, carved back. But seeing himspring toward her, she lost her nerve for the first time. Trying tomake a screen of the chair, she felt the floating gauze of her dresscatch on some unseen nail or splinter of broken woods struggled totear it free, and found herself in Logan's arms. The shrill sound ofripping stitches and tearing gauze mingled with the sharp blow of thegirl's palm on the man's ear, and his oath breathed hot on her cheek. 

"You fool, do you think I wish to keep you after what you've done?" heblurted out. "All I ask is to be rid of you before those fellows gethere. I thought I'd have one kiss--but I wouldn't take it now if yougave it to me. Sims, run down into the basement and let her out thatway. Now, you young devil, after him, if you don't want to be chokedand buried in the cellar. "

Hardly knowing what she did, Win obeyed. Tripping in the rags of hertorn gown, she followed the man, who opened a door that led to anarrow stairway. Next came a vague vision of a basement corridor and adisordered kitchen. A minute later she was pushed into a dark area, adoor was shut behind her, she was stumbling up some stone steps; then, hurrying along the street as fast as she could go, conscious only thatdanger was behind her, that she must fly from it and put a longdistance between her and that closed house. 

If Win had known that the door had shut upon Jim Logan also, and thathe had walked out of the house almost on her heels, she would havehurried even faster. But she did not know. And luckily he took theopposite direction, making straight for the New Cosmopolitan Club atthe corner, which she had noticed when passing in the taxi. 

Hardly five minutes after he had interrupted his guest in her call tothe police, Jim Logan was inquiring of the hall porter whether Mr. Fred Fortescue had come in that evening. 

"He came, sir, but has gone out again, " replied the man, thinking thatthe immaculate Mr. Logan--one of the best-dressed, best-groomedmembers of the New Cosmopolitan--appeared to be feeling the heatseverely. 

"Jove, I'm sorry to hear that, " and Logan's expression confirmed hiswords. "I wanted to see him badly. Let me think. Who else is here?What about Mr. Pindar?"

"Hasn't been in, sir, for weeks, " was the reply. 

"Gee!" muttered Logan. He seemed worried, and in the brilliant lightof the fine hall--white-panelled, and hung with clever caricatures ofwell-known men--his face was pale and even drawn. He looked, itoccurred to the hall porter (a man of imagination), rather like acaricature of himself, not so well coloured as those on the walls. Evidently conning the names of friends who might be useful in anemergency, Logan's eyes were fixed on the stairway, as if thenceinspiration or salvation might come. He had the air of having sent hisastral body hastily upstairs to reconnoitre the reading and smokingroom, but at that minute Peter Rolls, Jr. , appeared on the landing, and Logan and his astral body joined forces again. 

"Hello, Rolls!" he called out. "You're just the man I want. Will youdo me a great favour in a big hurry?"

Petro, whose inmost self had also been absent on some errand, came toearth again with a slight start. "Hello!" he echoed, hastening hissteps. 

He did not care much for Logan, who had been a classmate of his atcollege, and whose acquaintance he had not cultivated since. Still hehad nothing against the fellow except that he was a "dude" andsomething of an ass, whose outlook on life was so different fromPetro's that friendship was impossible. They met occasionally at theNew Cosmopolitan Club, of which they had both been members for someyears, and at houses where their different "sets" touched distantly. If they talked at all, they talked of old times, but each bored theother. Petro, however, could never bear to refuse any one a favour, even if granting it were an uncongenial task. This peculiarity wasconstitutional and too well known for his comfort. 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked in a tone polite, but void ofpersonal interest. 

"To come home with me quick and get me out of a horrid scrape. Notrouble for you--but a lot for me without a pal to see me through. Iwon't keep you more than a few minutes, if you're engaged anywhere. "

"I'm not engaged. But--" Petro began, only to be cut short. 

"Come along, then, for the Lord's sake. Tell you everything when we'rethere. " And taking Rolls affectionately by the arm, the other rushedhim out of the club. 

"House shut up, you know. But I stay there. My man'll let us in thebasement way, if you don't mind, " Logan explained disjointedly as theyhurried along the street to the dwelling four doors away. 

Sims, obedient to instructions flung at him over his master's shoulderwhen the girl had been let out, now awaited Logan's return at thetradesmen's entrance. The two young men were admitted and the doorlocked behind them. A minute more and they were in the rosily glowingdining-room, where the white table still offered attractiverefreshment. 

"Sit down, " said Logan, and as he said it a great knocking begansomewhere. 

Listening in surprise, Petro forgot to accept the invitation--whichmight have been more tempting if he had not, about half an hour ago, finished dinner. Logan repeated the words, however, and even pulledout a chair for Petro, who took it. Logan seized the other, and Petro, following his host's example, drew up to the table. Still the poundingwent on, more loudly than before, if possible. It began to seem ratherlike something in a play when you had missed the first scene anddidn't quite understand what it was all about. 

"I think, sir, it's some one at the door, " calmly announced Sims, raising his voice decorously, to be heard over the noise. "Shall I seewho it is, or shall I let them knock and go away?"

"See who it is, and if it's the police, make no objection to theircoming in. Be surprised, but not frightened, and say Mr. Logan has afriend supping with him. Savvy?"

"Yes, sir, " responded Sims, and vanished. 

"No time to let you into this stunt on the ground floor, " went onLogan. "But I will as soon as the turn's over. For all sakes, keep mumwhile I talk. "

Before Petro could answer, if he had an answer ready, there were deepvoices in the hall. Then the door was opened by Sims, and twoplain-clothes policemen stepped briskly in. 

"Hello! What's up? House on fire?" exclaimed Logan, pausing in theact of handing a dish of iced caviar to his guest. 

"We're not from the fire department, " said the elder and smarterlooking of the pair, civilly, yet with a certain grimness. "I guessyou know that well enough. We've been sent here on a hurry call onyour 'phone to the police--a girl supposed to be detained in the houseagainst her will. " And keen eyes took in the details of the room. 

Logan broke into a jovial guffaw. "Girl? Well, of all--thefreak--stunts!" he chortled. "Say, Rolls, are you the great femaleimpersonator? Ha, ha!"

"Sorry to interrupt you and your friend, " remarked the detective, still grimly, though he had caught and been slightly impressed by thename of Rolls, as the speaker had, perhaps, intended. Logan as a namealso carried some weight in New York. One was not rude to a Loganuntil sure how far and fast duty compelled one to proceed. "But Igotta ask you straight whether there's a girl in this house, and you'dbetter answer the same way. "

Logan stopped laughing. "Really, I thought at first you were some ofthe fellows from the club got up in disguise for a joke, " he said. "Ofcourse I'll answer you straight. There's no girl in this house so faras I know, and hasn't been since my sister went away with the rest ofthe folks, 2d of June. I can't think how such a--but gee! yes, I can!The silly old sucker! I bet it's a put-up job. "

"What d'ye mean?" the plain-clothes man wanted to know. 

"Why, does the name of Frederick Doland Fortescue mean anything toyou?"

"We know who he is. "

"Well, then, I guess you know he's the champion practical joker ofthis burg. He was here a while ago--hasn't been gone a quarter of anhour. Went just before Mr. Rolls came in. Asked if he could use thetelephone. I said yes, and my servant showed him into my mother'sboudoir next to this room. I heard him ring up some one, but didn'tget what he said. I noticed when he was through he came out chuckling, and then he was off like a shot--told me he had a date uptownsomewhere. That's all I know, but it would be like him to play justsuch a fool trick on you and me. "

"Seems 'twas a woman's voice at the 'phone. "

"Gee! I did sort of get onto it, he was mimicking a girl! Sounded kindof shrill, but I didn't pay attention. He's always up to some lark. You're welcome to go over the house, though, if you don't believe me. "

"It ain't a question of believing or not, " said the detective. "Butwe'll have to look around. "

"All right!" returned Logan, still with that perfect good nature whichwas having its effect on the two intruders. "Would you rather do thejob by your lones, or shall my man show you the way? I suppose youdon't mind us going on with our supper if I spare you Sims and we helpourselves to food?"

"You can stay where you are, " was the answer. 

"Thanks. But when you're satisfied that a mosquito or so's the onlylive stock on the premises, I should like you both to crack a bottleof champagne with us. "

"It wouldn't be quite in order---"

"Hang order! The police and I are pals. Now you'll do me proud ifyou'll look in on your way out. Bring the girl, if you find her!" AndLogan laughed at his own joke. 

"Don't think I've let you in for anything!" he turned to Rolls as thedoor shut. "They'll find no one, for the good reason that there's noone to find. All the same, I should have been in a mess if you hadn'tcome right along like a brick and helped me out. "

"I don't quite see yet how I have helped you, " rather dryly remarkedPetro. 

"But I guess you're guessing. "

"If I've guessed right, I'm not enjoying the joke. "

"Then maybe you _haven't_ guessed right! Give me the benefit of thedoubt till those good men and true are the other side of the frontdoor, will you? I'm as rattled as they make 'em now! Say, this is araid, ain't it? Wonder if they've got the Black Maria outside? Can'tyou eat any caviar? Wish you would. Well, shall we skip along to theconsommé?"

"I've just got down my dinner, " said Rolls, who was guessing too hardto taste anything with salt in it, in his old classmate's house. 

"Well, a little of this champagne cup, anyhow? It's girls' drink, butnot bad this weather, and old Sims is a nailer at mixing---"

"No, thanks, nothing at all. "

"You must let me half fill your glass, or those chaps will get onto itthat you're playing dummy!" As he spoke Logan poured champagne cupinto Peter's tall tumbler and his own. The latter he filled with theice-cold, sparkling liquid which, as he said, was "girls' drink, " andthen, seizing the glass, emptied it in one long draft. 

It was he who did most of the talking that whiled away time till thepolicemen returned from their tour of the house; and when they openedthe door of the dining-room once more he was eating chicken saladwhile Peter crumbled toast. 

"I don't see the lady!" Logan exclaimed facetiously, with his mouthfull. 

"Neither did we, " said the man who had taken the lead. 

"Hope you did the thing thoroughly while you were about it! Garret tocellar and all the rest?"

"You bet we did, " returned the policeman, allowing himself the reliefof a grin now. "I guess you was right about the practical joke. Butyou must excuse us if we look behind these curtains. "

"Under the table, too!" laughed Logan, jumping to his feet. "Stand anddeliver, Rolls!"

Petro obeyed rather reluctantly, feeling that he had been made a foolof, at best, in his stupid wish to be good-natured. It might be ajoke, as Logan insisted, but something told him it was not. The lookon the fellow's face as he gulped down the champagne cup had not beenfunny. It was in Petro's mind that he had been brought in to cover upwith his presence an unpleasant incident and ignorantly to trick thepolice. 

Of course, if there were a girl in the house, the police would havefound her. But--there was something queer. He meant to have it all outwith Logan when the police were gone. Meantime, however, he behavedloyally and stood up to leave the table clear while one of thedetectives did actually bend down to peer under it. As the policemanstooped Peter mechanically pulled the chair back, and doing so hecaught sight of a thin blue streak lying, like solidified cigarettesmoke, across the red brocade cushion. In this smoke-blue streak therewere little things that glistened--little silver things shaped likecrescent moons set at regular intervals from each other. Peter hadbeen unconsciously sitting on the smoke wreath, and as the policemanrose he deliberately sat down on it again. He felt suddenly sick, andhis heart was large and cold in his breast, where it did not beat, butfloundered like a caught fish. 

CHAPTER XXII

THE FRAGRANCE OF FRESIAS

Winifred Child had been in this house, or else she had sold or giventhe Moon dress to another girl who had been here. 

Thoughts were flashing through Peter's brain with the sharp quicknessof motion pictures following one another to a far conclusion. Of thegirl he could not be sure. The lost dryad, needing money more than sheneeded a smart evening gown, might well have disposed of Ena's gift. And yet Petro had--strangely enough it had seemed to him then--thoughtof Winifred and the mysterious "dryad door" on the _Monarchic_ themoment he came into this place. 

The perfume of the mirror room was here--the perfume which made allNadine's model dresses delicately fragrant of spring flowers; fresias, the youngest dryad had said they were; and since then Peter had askedfor fresias at the florist's, requested the Scottish head gardener toplant fresias in the garden, and had kept fresias in his room to callback old dreams. If the dryad had sold her dress, would the fresiafragrance haunt it still? Petro thought not. The other woman wouldhave given it her own special perfume. Only in the possession of adryad would it have retained this scent. 

Winifred Child had been here, then--in Logan's dining-room, nearLogan's table laid so alluringly for a supper _en tête-à-tête!_

This idea, passing through several phases, had shaped itself clearlyin Peter Rolls's mind by the time the policeman's round black head hadcome up from under the table. And it was because of the idea that hesat down deliberately on the film of chiffon. He did not wantquestions to be asked, or Winifred Child's name to be mentioned inthis business, at all events, until he had made up his mind what todo. 

There was still time to make it up, and speak, if necessary while thedetectives were on the spot, for Logan had offered them champagne andthey had accepted now they were sure that all parties had beenvictimized by a practical joker. "Girls' drink" was not for theguardians of New York, and Sims was opening two frosty-looking bottlesof the "real thing" just produced from some household iceberg The menwould not go for several moments yet. 

Winifred Child had listened to Ena Rolls's warnings and had taken themdeeply to heart. It had seemed to her impossible that a sister could, for any motive whatever, calumniate a brother whom she loved. Andthen, Win had reminded herself that her own ignorance of men wasprofound They were said to be "all alike" in some dreadful ways, eventhose who seemed the noblest, the most chivalrous--or more especiallythose. So she had believed Ena's words, against her own instinct, andhad not told herself that she lacked her favourite virtue--loyalty. 

But with Peter it was exactly the opposite. He trusted his instinctbefore everything, and though he thought that his lost dryad had beenin this shut-up house with Jim Logan, he knew that she had comeinnocently. 

Somehow Logan had met her, admired her (that went without saying), andtricked her into the place. When she had understood the trick she had, of course, tried to get away. (Why, if proof were needed, was not thetorn wisp of chiffon enough?) Her quick intelligence had suggested thetelephone, and somehow she had contrived to call the police before shecould be stopped by Logan. 

Yes, that was like her! Then Logan had been scared and let her go, lest she should be found and he should get into disgrace. This was thenatural thing for such a man to do in the circumstances, and equallynatural that he should dash out to find a supper companion--someaccommodating fellow whose presence would account for the table withits two places. 

But that he--he, of all men in New York, should be the accommodatingfellow found to screen the beast from punishment! This was theastounding thing--the terrible thing--and yet, the providential thing. Through Logan and the coincidence which had brought them together at acertain moment in the hall of the New Cosmopolitan Club, Petro toldhimself that he would by and by reach Winifred Child. It was a hatefulcombination of circumstances; but finding her thus would be no worsethan discovering a rare jewel in a toad's head. 

While the two detectives tossed off their champagne Peter Rolls satstill, his thoughts flashing on behind a face deprived of allexpression, as a screen of motionless dark trees can hide the whiterush and sparkle of a cataract. His vague contempt for Jim Logan hadturned in the last few minutes to active loathing, even to hatred. Hewanted the fellow punished, as he would have wanted a rattlesnake tohave its poison fangs drawn. He wished to speak out and tell the nowlaughing policemen the brief story of Logan's hurried visit to theclub. 

Down would go the half-full champagne glasses on the table. Thecheerful grins would be wiped from the two strong faces as by anartist who, with a stroke, changes the expression of a portrait. PeterRolls's word was at least as good as Jim Logan's. Questions would beasked. Jottings would be made in notebooks. Perhaps they would bothhave to go to the police station. The girl's name would be demanded;Logan might be forced to tell it. That would be one way of findingWinifred--but it would be a way intolerable. 

If only Peter were certain--as certain as he was of herinnocence--that she wasn't hidden in the house, he would let thedetectives go quietly and get the truth out of Logan himselfafterward. But--could he be certain? Had he a right to take suchchances when the girl's safety might depend on police knowledge of herwhereabouts?

It was reasonable to suppose that Logan had put her into the streetafter the giving of the alarm and before he ran to the club. Yet hemight not have done so. She might be fainting, or even dead. The mostterrible, melodramatic things happened every day in New York. One sawthem in the papers and felt they could never come into one's own life. Supposing there were some hiding-place?

The fishlike flopping of Peter's heart slowed down as if the fish werelosing strength. The thought was too hideous to finish. Yet he wouldnot dismiss it until he had played his hand in the game. 

So far he had hardly spoken since the sight of the blue smoke wreathon the chair had set his brain whirling. But when Logan suddenlychallenged him to drink a health to the New York police, he took theglass of champagne Sims offered. 

"Here's to you!" he said. "I never had such a good chance toappreciate the thoroughness of your methods! By Jove! think of lookingeven under the table! Now that would never have occurred to me. "

"I guess it would, " one of the men encouraged him, "if you had ourexperience. It gets to be second nature to be thorough. We never, soto speak, leave a stone unturned"

"Well, it's mighty smart of you, that's all I can say!" young Mr. Rolls went on. "What do you call being thorough--not 'leaving a stoneunturned?' Here, for instance how can you be sure you've looked inevery hole and cranny where Mr. Logan might have stowed a young womanin a dead faint, if he wanted to fool you?"

Both men laughed. "You ought to bin with us when we went on our triparound the house!"

"I wish I had! It would have been a sort of experience, " said Peter. "I sometimes read detective stories and wonder if they're like thereal thing. When you were out of the room I was thinking if we'd had agirl hidden in here--behind the curtains, for instance--we might havesneaked her away when you were upstairs or down in the basement. "

They laughed again, patronizing the amateur. "You must take us forUncle Ezras from Wayback!" genially sneered he who claimed leadership. "We didn't 'both' go upstairs--or in the basement. While I waited inthe hall my mate slipped down and locked the door that lets into thearea and brought away the key on him. What's more, he did something tothe keyhole--a little secret we know--that would have told us if anyone had used another key while we were gone. But no one did. Goodguard was kept, and if a mouse had tried to slip by we'd 'a' caughtit. "

"But what if a mouse had tried to hide?" suggested Peter Rolls. 

"We'd 'a' found it. There ain't a closet or a pair o' curtains or ashower bath or bookcase or a screen or bureau or table or bed that'shad a chance to keep a secret from us---"

"Did you ever hear the song of 'The Mistletoe Bough?'" inquired thedoubter. 

"You bet we did. You don't have to show us! We snooped all around thetrunk room and rummaged in every box big enough to hold a dwarf. Noneof 'em was locked, but if they had been--why, we go around prepared. "

"You don't look as if you'd done much prowling in the coal cellar, anyhow!" laughed Peter. 

"That's because there ain't enough coal in it to dirty a dove, "explained the policeman. "Why, we even had a squint into the wine binsand the kitchen pantries and under the sink and into a laundry basket. There ain't a fly on the wall in this house but we wouldn't know itsface if we met it again!"

They all laughed once more, and none more loudly than Logan, thoughhe had given Peter Rolls a puzzled glance for each new and apparentlyaimless question. 

"If I wrote those detective stories, I'd use this for a plot, " Petrowent on; "but it wouldn't be much good to the magazines the way it'sturned out. I think I'd have a girl hidden behind a sliding panel, ora picture that came out of its frame, or something, and the hero findher. "

"Then you mustn't lay your plot in this house, " retorted the officer. "There ain't any pictures a full-sized cat could crawl through, and asfor Mr. Logan's panels, they look real nice, but I guess they're thekind you buy by the yard. And there ain't a room with a wall thatcould open to hide anything thicker than a paper doll. "

He earned a laugh again on that climax. Peter said that he would haveto go to some old country on the other side to write the kind of storyhe meant. The men finished their champagne and had more. Then theyfinished that with a gay health (proposed by their host) to FreddyFortescue. And at last there was no doubt that the time had come togo. 

Logan shook hands with both and pressed gifts of cigars and cigarettesupon them. If Peter intended to give Logan away, now was the latest, the very latest moment. But he said not a word. Satisfied that thegirl could not possibly be concealed in the house, her name must notbe risked. While Logan accompanied the guardians of the law to thefront door, opened by Sims for their benefit, Peter annexed the bluesmoke wreath. A splinter of wood (the furniture was only imitationJacobean) had impaled the rag of chiffon, and almost tenderlyreleasing it, Rolls folded the trophy away in a breast pocket. 

His imagination had not tricked him. The stuff did smell offresias--which he proved by holding it to his lips for an instant--thevery scent that had come out to him whenever the dryad door opened, inreality and memory, the scent he had grown intimate with while theMoon dress hung in his wardrobe during those days when he had awaiteda chance to present his offering to Ena!

When Logan came back he turned to tell Sims at the door that he wouldnot be needed again, at any rate, for the present. Then he shuthimself and Peter into the rosy glow of the dining-room. 

"At last!" he exclaimed, sinking contentedly into the chair oppositeRolls. "I feel as if I'd earned a whole bottle of drink. But all'swell that ends well. "

"It hasn't quite ended yet, has it?" remarked Peter. "No, thank you, no champagne!"

"Not ended?" repeated Logan, bottle in hand. "Oh, I see what you'reat!" and he began filling his own glass, already emptied half a dozentimes during the visit of the detectives. "You mean you want anexplanation of this hanky panky. Well, I promised it to you, didn't I?I said you must give me the benefit of the doubt till those chaps wereout of the house. I hope you have. But I thought once or twice youlooked a bit thick, as if you weren't sure what I'd let you in for. But I'm not the kind of chap to get a pal in a fix to save my ownface. I'm going to explain, all right. Only first I want to thank youagain for---"

"You needn't, " said Peter. 

"Sure you won't change your mind and take a little fizz? We've beenthrough some hot work for this weather. "

"_You_ have. No--not any!"

"One go at mine, then, and I'm yours. A-ah! that was pretty good. Well--there _was_ a girl, of course. But she came because she wantedto come. Then the trouble began. There was a little misunderstandingabout a pearl dog collar she admired in a jeweller's window. Sheseemed disappointed to find that this wasn't to be the occasion of apresentation. Said I'd promised. I hadn't! I never do promisebeforehand to give girls things. Girls would love to have the sameeffect on your money the sun has on ice. Not that this one's like allthe others. She's worth a little expenditure. A real stunner! Anyfellow'd be wild over her. An English girl, tall and slim, butgorgeous figure: long legs and throat, and dark eyes as big assaucers. You'd turn and look after her anywhere! A lady, and thinksherself the queen, though she works in a New York department store. I've been running after her since one night we made acquaintance inthe park--great chums--called each other Jim and Winnie and held handsfrom the first. 

"But to-night, just because I said I'd never promised a dog collar oranything like one, she went mad as a tiger cat and took revenge byringing up the police with a beast of a story that I'd kidnapped her. She got it out before I could make her stop, and for just a minute Iwas in a blue funk. New York's rampagin' so just now on the subject ofkidnappers. But I had wit enough to chuck her into the street and runto the club for help. I thought of Freddy Fortescue (by the way, Imust get him to stand by me with a story in case he's questioned. Ican count on him every time!), but he wasn't in. I tried another manor two, same result, and just then I saw you coming downstairs--ramcaught in the bushes. "

"For the sacrifice, " Peter finished. 

"Well, not too much of a sacrifice, I hope, " Logan temporized "Youdon't regret standing by?"

"No, I don't regret it. "

"Yet your tone sounds sort of odd, as if you were keeping somethingback. I don't see why, either. I've kept my promise. I'veexplained--put the whole story in a nutshell, not to bore you too muchwith my love affairs gone bad. And what I've told you is the Gospel'sown truth, old man, whether you believe it or not. "

"I don't believe it, " said Peter. "I know it to be the devil's ownlie. "

As he spoke he rose, and Logan jumped up, hot and red in the face. 

"By Jove!" he sputtered. "I don't know what you mean. "

"You know very well, " Rolls insisted. "I mean--that you're a liar. Adamn liar! The girl didn't come here because she wanted to come. Andshe wouldn't take a pearl collar or a _paper_ collar from you if youwent on your knees. "

"You must be crazy!" Logan stared at him, paler now. "If you weren'tmy guest, in my house, I--I'd knock you down. "

"Try it, " Peter invited him. "This is your father's house, I believe, not yours. And I don't call myself your guest. Neither need you. I'm asort of out-of-season April Fool. At least, I was. I'm not now. "

"I tell you--you're bughouse!" stammered Logan. 

"You stand up for a girl you don't know a damn thing about---"

"I'd stand up for any girl against you, " he was cut short again. "ButI do know this girl. I won't say how. I know you're the dirt under herfeet, and if I hadn't made sure every way that she was out of thehouse, I'd have set the police onto you as--as I _wouldn't_ setterriers onto a rat. "

"You--you can't tell me her name--or anything about her--I'll bet!"

"You won't bet with me. And neither of us is going to speak her namehere. Shut your mouth on it if you don't want it stuffed down yourthroat and your teeth after it. You've been a villain. That's the onething that stands out in this business. God! do you think you couldmake me believe anything wrong about that girl--_you_? Why, if anangel looped the loop down from heaven to do it I wouldn't. Tell mewhat store she's working in. That's what I want to hear about her fromyou, and nothing else. "

Logan was not red in the face now. He had grown very pale. In truth, he was frightened. But he was angry enough to hide his fear for thepresent. He determined that Rolls should not get a word out of him. 

"That's _all_ you want to hear, is it?" he mimicked. "If you know somuch about her, you can jolly well find out the rest for yourself orkeep off the grass. I don't intend---"

The sentence ended in an absurd gurgle, for the hand of Peter Rollswas twisting his high collar. It was horribly uncomfortable and madehim feel ridiculous, because he was taller and bigger and older thanRolls. He tried to hit Peter in the face with his fist, but suddenlyall strength went out of him. The hated face vanished behind a showerof sparks. 

"You're murdering--me!" he gasped. "I've--got--a weak heart. "

Peter let go and flung him across the room. He tottered toward thedoor. And his servant, who had been breathlessly listening outside, opened it opportunely on the instant. Logan saw his chance, as Simsmeant him to do, half fell, half staggered out, and the door slammedin Peter's face. 

It took the latter no more than thirty seconds to wrench it open againand drag Sims, who was holding desperately to the knob, into thedining-room. "Don't hurt me, sir!" the man pleaded. "I only did myduty. "

"Hurt you!" repeated Rolls with a laugh. "Don't be afraid. Where's theother coward?"

"If you are referring to Mr. Logan, sir, " Sims replied politely, "heis gone. If you look for him, I think you will find he has _quite_gone. I had the front door open, all ready, in case it should beneeded. "

Peter reflected for an instant, and then shrugged his shoulders. 

"Let him go!" he said. "I'd as soon step twice on a toad that washopping away as touch him again. _Br-r!_ This place is sickening. I'llgo, too--but not after him. "

"Yes, sir, certainly, " returned Sims with alacrity, slinking along thehall to the vestibule. "I'll open the front door for you. This, " headded with a certain emphasis "will be the fourth time I've done soto-night. Once to let Mr. Logan in, once when the young ladies came, and---"

"Ah, there were two of them!" Rolls caught him up. 

"Yes, sir. And though I did my duty just now helping Mr. Logan--if Imay say it, sir, without offence--helping him out of _danger_, I amready to assist you, sir, by answering any questions you may wish toask. I do not consider my doing so disloyal to my employer. Mystatements won't hurt him, I assure you. And if you would--er---"

"Would 'make it worth your while, ' I suppose you're trying to getout, " Peter disgustedly prompted him. 

"I have a wife to support, sir, and a child. I keep them in thecountry, and it comes expensive. "

"Give me ten dollars' worth of talk, " ordered Peter, "and I'll believeas much as I choose. "

He was half ashamed of himself for stooping to bribe the fellow whoperhaps, after all, was only trying to delay him. Yet he might havesomething worth hearing. He could not afford to lose a chance. 

"Two young ladies came as far as the door, sir, " said Sims, pocketingthe greenback, "but only one came into the house--a tall, handsomeyoung lady, different looking from most, with a thin yellowish silkcloak over a blue dress. She walked right in, but when she found herfriend was gone she seemed surprised, and the next thing she was inthe boudoir telephoning. Mr. Logan went in and she came out. They hada little dispute, I think, and though he'd been expecting her tosupper, he told me to get her out of the house as quick as I could. Ishowed her through the basement, and she walked, rather briskly Ishould say, sir, down the street, while Mr. Logan went in the otherdirection--toward the corner, where the club is. As for the youngladies themselves, I can give you no information, except that the onewho didn't come in to-night has been here before on several occasions. The one who came in and--er--used the telephone, I have neverpreviously seen. That's all I know which you don't know yourself. ButI hope I've been of some assistance to make up for doing mydisagreeable duty, sir?"

"I've had ten dollars' worth, thank you, " said Peter. "And now for thefourth time of opening that door. "

He went out, satisfied that he was carrying with him the only trace ofWinifred Child from the shut-up house. To-morrow he would begin withthe opening of the shops and look through every department store untilhe found her. 

CHAPTER XXIII

MOTHER

Peter Rolls, as it oddly happened, had run up to New York that hotnight in order to see a girl do a "turn" at a vaudeville theatre--anEnglish girl about whom he had read a newspaper paragraph, and whomight, he thought, be Winifred Child. The girl's stage name wasWinifred Cheylesmore. The newspaper described her as "tall, dark, andtaking, with a voice like Devonshire cream. "

She was a new girl, of whom nobody had heard, and Peter had beenthrilled and impatient. Her "singing stunt" was to be heard at teno'clock, and Peter had dined at his club, meaning to be early in hisseat at the theatre. But a man he knew, sitting at a table near, was abudding journalist, an earnest amateur photographer. He began passingsamples of his skill to Peter Rolls, calling out rather loudly thenames of ladies snapshotted. Among them was Winifred Cheylesmore, whomhe had interviewed. She was no more like Winifred Child than MarieTempest is like Ethel Barrymore. Consequently Peter gave his ticketaway and sat longer over his dinner than he had meant. 

If he had started out even five minutes earlier he would have missedJim Logan and the adventure in the shut-up house. He would not haveknown that there was hope--indeed, almost a certainty--of finding thelost dryad in one of New York's great department stores. 

He was excited, and would have liked to spend half the night walkingoff his superfluous energy in the streets or the park where that lyingbeast said he had made Miss Child's acquaintance. Peter would havefelt that he was marching to meet the dawn and that the day he longedfor would come to him sooner if he walked toward the horizon. Butfather was in town that night--presumedly at his club, and Peter didnot like to leave mother alone. She had exacted no promise--she neverdid exact promises, for that was not her way. Peter had said, however, that he would motor home after the theatre, and though mother mustn'tsit up, she would know that he was in the house. 

He determined to keep to this plan, which, of course, would notprevent his returning to New York early enough next day for the firstopening of the first shop. He wished there were not so many shops. Unless luck were with him on his search, he might not reach the dryadfor days. 

In spite of all that had happened, midnight was not long past whenPeter tiptoed softly through the quiet house at home and opened thedoor of his own den. He had expected to find the room in darkness, butto his surprise the green-shaded reading lamp on the book-scatteredmahogany table was alight, and there in the horsehair-coveredrocking-chair sat mother with her inevitable work. Close by the windowwas wide open, and the night breeze from over the Sound wasrhythmically waving the white dimity curtains. 

The sweetness of home-coming swept over Peter with the perfume ofwallflowers which blew in on the wind--a sweetness almost as poignantas that of fresias. Half unconsciously he had been wishing to see hismother--perhaps not even to speak, but just to see her placid face inits kind womanliness. It was almost as if his wish had been whisperedto her telepathically and she had answered it. She made a charmingpicture, too, he thought, in the shadowy room where the pale, movingcurtains in the dimness were like spirits bringing peace, and all thelight focussed upon the white-haired, white-gowned woman in the high, black chair seemed to radiate from her whiteness. 

Mother looked up, pleased but not surprised, as the opening doorframed her son. 

"Howdy do, deary!" She smiled at him. "I thought you'd be coming alongabout this time. "

Peter threw his hat and coat at the whale, whose large, shiningsurface hospitably received them. Mrs. Rolls's small, plump feet incheap Japanese slippers rested upon a "hassock" on whose coveringreposed (in worsted) a black spaniel with blue high lights. Thisanimal she had herself created before the birth of Peter or Ena, butit was as bright a beast as if it had been finished yesterday. No oneat Sea Gull Manor except Peter would have given Fido house room. Buthe liked the dog, and now sat down on it, lifting his mother's littlefeet to place them on his knee. 

"You oughtn't to have waited up, " he remarked, having kissed hersnow-white hair and both apple-pink cheeks and settled himself more orless comfortably on Fido. 

"I thought I would, " she returned placidly. "I like being here. And Ihad just this to finish. " She held up a wide strip of crocheted lace. "It's 'most done now. It's go'n' to be a bedspread for Ena. But Idon't know if she---"

Mrs. Rolls did not finish the sentence, but it was a long, long agoestablished custom of hers not to finish sentences. Except when alonewith Petro, she seldom made any attempt to bring one to an end. It waslife at Peter senior's side which had got her out of the habit oftrying to complete what she began to say. As he generally interruptedher when she spoke, even in their early years together, she had almostunconsciously taken it for granted that he would do so, and stoppedlike a rundown mechanical doll at about the place where herquick-minded husband was due to break in. 

Peter junior, who never interrupted (though he, too, had a quickmind), knew as well as if she had gone on that his mother meant: "Idon't know if Ena will think a homemade coverlet of crocheted lacesmart enough for a real, live _marchesa_, but I feel I should like tomake my daughter some bridal present with my own hands. "

"Oh, yes, she's certain to. It'll be beautiful, if it's anything likethe one you did for me, " Petro assured her when the long pause hadtold him that mother had no more to add. "Just think of Ena gettingmarried!"

"Yes, indeed, " sighed Mrs. Rolls. "And it seems only a little whilesince you were both---"

Peter knew that the missing word was "children. " "Anyhow, she's happy, I think, " he reflected aloud, a far-away look in his eyes. 

"I guess so, " mother agreed. "She'll like real well being a--- Iwish---"

"_Marchesa"_ was easy for Peter to supply mentally, and would havebeen much easier for him to pronounce than it was for Mrs. Rolls, whohad had small education in the management even of her native tongue. 

She made dear little, cozy, common mistakes in grammar and otherthings. Peter adored her mistakes, and Ena was ashamed of them. But inthose good manners which are taught by the heart and not by the head, no queen could have given Mrs. Rolls lessons. 

As for the next sentence, beginning with "I wish---" and ending in theair, that was more difficult. Even mother, so placid, seemingly socontented, must have many wishes. And so Petro ventured on a "What?"

"I wisht I could be just as sure _you_---"

"As sure that I'm happy?"

"Yes, dear. "

Peter had been looking at his mother's feet in those blue Japaneseslippers, whose cheapness was rather pathetic. (With all their money, she never enjoyed wearing expensive things herself. It was as if shefelt lost and un-at-home in them. ) But suddenly he glanced up. Thepink-and-white face was as calm as usual, yet her tone had meantsomething in particular. A chord seemed to vibrate in his soul, as ifshe had softly, yet purposely, touched it with her finger. 

"Don't you believe I am happy?" he asked. 

"Not--just like you used to be, " she said. Their eyes met as shelifted hers from her work and began rolling it up, finished. Sheblushed beautifully, like a girl. 

Peter pressed both the little feet between his hands, pressed themalmost convulsively. He did not stop to think how strong his fingerswere, though Logan had had cause to realize their strength two hoursago. The pressure hurt the small toes so lightly covered. And themother of this strong, though slight, young man gloried in the hurt. She was proud of it, proud of Peter, the one thing in the world shefelt was really hers. 

"Mother!" he said in a low, tense voice. "_What_ told you?"

"Why--just bein' your mother, I guess. I was wonderin'---"

"Wondering what?"

"Whether some day you'd say something. "

"I wanted to. I wanted to talk to you about--about it all. But I wasafraid it might make you sad. I like to think of you always happy, dearest. And I couldn't bear to be the one to chase away your smile Ilove so much. "

"It's thinking of you helps me to smile, Petie, " said his mother, reverting to the pet name of his childhood as she stroked his smooth, black hair. "If 'twasn't for knowing I've got you--and your lovingme--I do believe I could never smile. "

"You're not unhappy?" Peter cried out, startled. It would be adreadful pain to know that the placid reserve of this sweet, lovedwoman meant unhappiness. 

"Not while I have _you_. But---"

"You must go on, dear. Tell me what you feel. We're here together, allalone in the night, talking out our hearts. It seems as if it wasmeant to be--my finding you waiting here. "

"I guess maybe it _was_, Petie. Something kind of said to me, 'Youwait up for him. He wants you. ' And I--why, I always want you, boy. "

"Darling! We've got each other fast. "

"Thanks be, dear! My! You don't know the times I've sneaked in and setin this room when you was away. And even now, if you're go'n' to beout pretty late, I bring in my work 'most always when your pa's out. Igenerally slip back to my room before you come in, because I know youthink I oughtn't to be sittin' up. You mightn't just understand that'twas because this is my only real home. "

"Your only real home? Why, Mother!"

"The rest of the house is so big--and so _awful_ new-fashioned andgrand. Not like me a bit, " she apologized meekly--but not with theflurried meekness of her apologies to Peter senior. "Here you've savedall my dear old things I had in the days before everything was big. Inever _can_ get used to it, and I never will now. It's the bigness, Iguess, that's seemed--somehow--to take your pa and Ena away fromme--long ago. But I've got you. And you let me come here. So I amhappy. I'm a real happy woman, Petie. And I want you to be happy theway you used to be--or some better way, not all restless like you arenow. I guess if there was some one you loved different from me youwouldn't make a new life for yourself without a little place in it formother, would you--just a weenty little place I could come and live insometimes for a while?"

"I'd want you in it always, " said Peter. He leaned up and wound hisarms around the plump, formless waist in the neat dressing-gown. "Sowould _she_--if there were a she. I hate the 'bigness, ' too--the kindof false, smart bigness that you mean. We'll have a little house--sheand you and I. For your room will be there, and you'll be in itwhenever father'll spare you. But I'm running away in what I used tocall my 'dreamobile!' I haven't found her yet. That is, I found heronce and lost her again. I'm looking for her now. Mother, do you knowwhat a _'leitmotif'_ is?"

"No, dear, indeed I don't. I'm afraid I don't know many of the thingsI---"

"There's no reason why you should know this. In Wagner's operas, whichI don't understand, perhaps, but which I love with thrills in myspine--and that's a _kind_ of understanding--whenever a charactercomes on the stage he or she always is followed by a certain strain ofmusic--music that expresses character, and seems even to describe aperson. Well, wallflower perfume might be your _leitmotif_. Can't you_hear_ perfume? I can. Just as you can seem to see music--wonderful, changing colours. The wallflower scent's all around us now. It's you. But through it I imagine another perfume. It's here, too. It's beenwith me for months. Because I've got to feel it's her spirit, her_leitmotif_. The perfume of fresias. Do you know it?"

"I thought maybe she liked it, " mother said calmly. 

"What put that idea in your darling head?"

"Why, because you've been havin' fresias planted in the garden--and inyour room--as long as they lasted through the spring. You'd neverthought of 'em before as I know of. "

"You witch! You notice everything. Who'd believe it, you're so quiet?"

"Of course I notice things about you. I wouldn't be fit to be yourmother if I didn't. Now, do you feel like tellin' me things abouther?"

"I'm longing to, " said Peter. 

They forgot it was late at night. He told her everything, beginning atthe moment when he had plunged through the dryad door and going on tothe moment when he had lost, not only the girl, but her friendship, though he said nothing of the Moon dress or the shut-up house. Eventhen he did not stop. 

"I must have done something inadvertently, " he went on, "to make herstop liking me all of a sudden. For she did like me at first. Therewas no flirting or anything silly about it. I felt there was a reasonfor her changing, and ever since, every day and every night, I've beentrying to make out what it could have been. I've thought the ideamight come to me. But it never has. That's partly why I'm so anxiousto find her--to make her explain. I was too taken aback, too--sort ofstunned--to go about it the right way when she changed to me at thelast minute there on the dock. Once I could understand, why, I mightstart with her again at the beginning and work up. It would give me achance--the chance I once thought I had, you know--to try to make hercare. Maybe it would be no use. Maybe I'm not the kind she could everlike that way, even if things hadn't gone wrong. But--but, Mother, it's been just agony to think that all this time she's hated methrough some beastly misunderstanding which might easily have beencleared up. "

"My poor boy!" the kind voice soothed him. "I guess that's the worstpain of all. I knew there was something hurting you, but I didn'tknow 'twas as hard a hurt as this. But 'twill come right. I feel itwill--if she's really the right girl. "

"She's the only girl!" exclaimed Peter. "You'd love her, and she'dadore you. "

"Tell me just what she looks like, " commanded mother, shutting hereyes to see the picture better. 

Peter excelled himself in his description of Winifred Child. "Nobodyever even dreamed of another girl who looked or talked or acted a bitlike her, " he raved. "She's so original!"

"Why, but that's just what somebody _did_!" mother cried, throwing offthe cloak of her placidity. "Lady Eileen. "

"Lady Eileen did what?"

"Dreamed about such a girl. It must have been a real interestingdream, because she couldn't get it out of her head and told me allabout it. She saw a tall, dark girl, with wonderful eyes and afascinating mouth and graceful sort of ways like you've been tellingme about. Hearing Lady Eileen talk was almost like seeing aphotograph. In the dream you were in love with the girl--English shewas, too, like the real one--and ransacking New York for her, whileall the time she---"

"Yes--yes, dear! All the time she---"

"Lady Eileen said particularly I was to tell you about her dream andlet you know she wanted you to hear it, because it seemed kind ofdramatic and made her almost superstitious, it was so real every way. But she made me promise I wouldn't say a _word_ unless you spoke firstabout such a girl as she dreamed of--and told me you loved her andwanted to find her again. If _I_ began, it would spoil the romance, and there wouldn't be anything in it. That was how Lady Eileen felt. "

Peter listened, but his spirit had rushed on past these explanations. Lady Eileen had chosen this method of leaving a message for him. Itwas a strange method, and he did not understand why she had notherself told him of the dream. But she was a kind and clever girl, atrue friend. There must have been a good motive for the delay. Loyalhimself, he believed in her loyalty and was grateful. But he could notstop to think of her now. 

"Where did Lady Eileen see my dryad girl--in the dream?" he asked. 

"At father's place, " said mother simply. "At the Hands. "

CHAPTER XXIV

THINGS EXPLODING

Lily Leavitt did not come back to Mantles next morning. She sent noword, asked no leave for illness--and the rule at the Hands wasdischarge for such an omission. If she appeared again her place wouldbe filled--unless she had a strong enough "pull" to keep it open. 

Win, who arrived promptly, as usual (just as if last night's adventurehad been a black dream) heard the other girls talking about Lily. Shelistened and said nothing; had no opinion when asked what she thought. But not a soul pitied Miss Leavitt. The general idea seemed to be thatshe was one "who knew which side her bread was buttered. " She wouldnot be stopping away without notice unless she had done better forherself. Probably she had secretly married one of those swell beausshe was always boasting about!

Win, pale and absent-minded (but that might be the heat), was givingthe finishing touches to a cloaked group of figurines when a letterwas brought to her by a messenger boy. It was not yet time for PeterRolls's doors to open to the world, but the girl had to finish hertask before reading the note. A glance at the envelope showed Sadie'shandwriting, and as Sadie ought at that moment to have been makingthe toilets of dolls upstairs, Win realized that something unexpectedmust have happened. 

Perhaps Sadie was ill and wanted her to explain to the management. Shemust make short shrift with the figurines and be ready to help Sadiebefore strenuous life began. 

Five minutes later five headless ladies in perfectly draped wraps wereshowing off their finery to the best advantage, and their tiring maidwas standing as still as they, an open letter in her hand. 

"What's the matter?" asked a pretty, snub-nosed girl who laughedoftener than Win in these days. "You look as if you'd lost your lastfriend. "

"I'm afraid--I have, " Winifred replied in a strange, withdrawn voicewhich made Daisy Thompson's eyes widen. 

"Say! I'm real sorry! I hope it ain't your beau. "

Win did not answer, because she did not hear. Sadie! Sadie! The dearlittle old sardine!

"Good-bye, deerie, " she read again. "I coodn't of said this to yurefase. I only noo for shure yesterdy. Its cunsumsion and they won'thave me back for fere of my giving it to others. I gess thats righttho its hard luck on me. It aint that I care much about living. Idont, becawse theres sum one I love who loves another girl. Shes a lotbetter than me and werthy of him so thats all right too but it hertsand Id be kind of glad to go out. Dont you be afrade of me doinganything silly in the tabloyde line tho. I wont. Im no coward. But Igot to leeve this house for the same reeson as the Hands. I mite givemy truble to sum one else. Its a good thing we found out in time. Ivehurd of a noo plase where they take consumps for nuthing, and Ive gotto steer for it. Its in the country but I wont tell you where deerieor you mite try to see me and I dont think I cood stand it the way Ifeel now. But I love you just as much. Good-by. Yure affecshunateSadie. "

Win was overwhelmed. Lately she had seen little of her friend. Neithergirl had much time, and the weather had drunk all their energy. Sheought to have guessed from Sadie's thinness that she was ill. Sheought--oh, she ought to have done a dozen things that she had notdone! Now it was too late. 

But no, it mustn't be too late! She would find out where Sadie was. Itought to be easy, for the verdict which had sent the girl away fromthe Hands must have been that of a young doctor who attended theemployees. There were certain hours when he came to the hospital roomwhich Win had seen on her first day at Peter Rolls's. One of thesehours was just before the opening of the shop. Perhaps he hadn't yetgot away. 

The floorwalker who controlled Mantles was one of the smartest men inany department, somewhat of a martinet, but inclined to be reasonablewith those who had any "gumption. " Miss Child had gumption, and thoughit was nearly time for the public to rush in (there was a bargain salethat day) he gave her a permit of absence. 

"Nothing worse than a headache, I hope, takes you to the H. R. ?" hequestioned, scrawling his powerful name. "We need everybody to getbusy to-day. "

"I'm going to beg for some _sal volatile_, " answered Win, anddetermined to do so, as even white fibs were horrid little things, almost as horrid as cowardly, scuttling black beetles. 

Poor Sadie had giggled the other night: "You stick even to the _truth_this hot weather!"

The doctor had not gone, but he did not know of the new place Sadiereferred to, and, not knowing, didn't believe in its existence. He hadtold Sadie Kirk yesterday that her lungs were infected and that shehad become "contagious. " Of course she had had to be discharged. Thesethings were sad, but they were a part of the day's work. It was a pitythat Miss Kirk hadn't been longer with the Hands. Her insurance moneywouldn't amount to much. 

"Do you mean to say that they've sent her away to die and haven'tgiven her anything?" Win gasped. 

"Not to die, I hope, " said young Dr. Marlow. "She's curable. But shewouldn't get more than a week's salary with her discharge, I'm afraid. Old Saint Peter isn't in this business for his health. "

"Or for any one else's, " the girl retorted. 

Marlow shrugged his shoulders, bowed slightly to the pretty butunreasonable young woman, and went away. 

Winifred also should have gone. She had got her _sal volatile_ and herinformation. But life was lying in ruins around her--Sadie's life, ifnot her own--and she did not know how to set about reconstructing it. 

"What man does she love who loves another girl?" she asked herself. 

Then, suddenly, she knew. It was Earl Usher, and he loved her, Winifred, who could never be more to him than a friend. 

Win had heard of a "vicious circle. " It seemed that she and Sadie andUrsus were travelling in one, going round and round, and could neverget out. 

"But I must go down, " the mechanical part of herself kept repeating. 

She had involuntarily paused near the door to think things out inpeace. There were no patients for the two narrow white beds, and thenurse--a small, nervous woman with sentimental eyes--was heating waterover a spirit lamp. She suffered from headache and had prescribedherself some tea. The water had begun to boil, and despite thethrobbing in her temples she hummed monotonously: "You Made Me LoveYou. "

Winifred heard the tune through her thoughts of Sadie and Earl Usher, and it seemed to make everything sadder and more hopeless. Butsuddenly the singing broke off--the thin voice rose to a shriek, andwas lost in a loud explosion. 

In the act of going out Win turned, bewildered and expecting horror. Head down, her hands covering her burned face, the nurse camestaggering toward the door. Hair and cap were on fire. All over thewhite dress and apron were dotted little blue tongues of flame thathad spouted out from the bursting lamp. 

Often such an accident had been lightly prophesied by this very woman. The spirit sent up for the hospital was of the cheapest. Peter Rollswas "not in business for his health!"

Dazed by the deafening noise, and shocked to the very heart by thewoman's shriek of pain, Win was not conscious of thought. She did nottell herself to spring to the nearest bed, tear off the covering, stop the nurse before she could rush wildly into the corridor, andwrap her in the blanket. All she knew for a moment was that she haddone and was doing these things, that she was using her strength tohold the maddened creature, and all the while calling out for help. 

The doctor had not yet reached the end of the long corridor, and theexplosion and cries brought him and others running. Vaguely Win wasconscious that there were women there, maids who cleaned floors andwindows, and that there were two or three men besides Dr. Marlow. Shethought that he ordered some of them out and gave directions toothers, but the scene sharpened into detail only when she heardherself told to stay and give assistance. 

She aiding the doctor, the nurse's burns were dressed. The littlequivering creature, hastily undressed, was put to bed, face, head, arms, and hands covered with oil and bandaged. It was not untilanother nurse--telephoned for from somewhere to somewhere--hadarrived, and the invalid had been given an opiate, that Win realizedthe tingling pain in her own fingers. 

"Why, yes, so I _am_ burned a little!" she exclaimed when the doctorasked to see her hands. "But it's nothing to matter. I can go back towork now. Nurse is all right. "

"No, it's nothing to matter, and you can go back to work, all right, "briskly echoed Marlow, who was no coddler of any hands at PeterRolls's; "that is, you can when I've patched you up a bit. And nurseisn't going to be bad, either. She won't be disfigured, I canguarantee that--thanks to you. "

"Thanks to me?" Win echoed. 

"Yes, just that. Perhaps you don't realize that you probably saved herlife. "

"No. I--I don't think I've realized anything yet. " She found herselfsuddenly wanting to cry, but remembered a day on the _Monarchic_ (asshe always did remember if tears felt near) and swallowed the risinglump in her throat. 

"Well, don't bother about it. You can get conceited later. Here, drinkthis to quiet your nerves in case you feel jumpy, and now run along. It'll be all right for you downstairs. The news will have got to yourdep by this time and they'll know why you're late. "

Win "ran along" and found the doctor's prophecy correct The news hadbounded ahead of her. 

"I hear you've been distinguishing yourself, " said Mr. Wellby, thefloorwalker. "Let's see your hands. Oh, I guess they won't put you outof business, a brave girl like you. "

"I'm as well as ever, thank you, " said Win. 

Stupid of her, wanting to cry again just because people were payingher compliments! But perhaps she hadn't quite got over last night andnot sleeping at all. And then Sadie's letter. Things had piled on topof each other, but she mustn't let herself go to pieces. She must keepher wits and think--think--think how to get at Sadie and what to dofor her. 

Dr. Marlow had covered Win's fingers with something he called"newskin, " since it would not do for a "saleslady" to disgustcustomers by serving them with bandaged hands. It was like atransparent varnish and made her nails shine as brightly as those ofthe vainest girls who spent all their spare time in polishing. But theredness showed through, as if her hands were horribly chapped. She sawa lady who had asked her to try on a white lace evening coat staringat them. 

"What's the matter with your hands?" The question came sharply. 

"I scalded them a little this morning, " Win explained. 

"Oh! I'm glad it isn't a _disease. "_

The girl blushed faintly, ashamed, glanced down at the offending pinkfingers, and turning slowly round to display the cloak, suddenlylooked up into the eyes of Peter Rolls. 

She could not help starting and drawing in her breath. For half asecond her brain whirled and she thought that she imagined him, thatit was just such another vision as those of last night when she hadput on the Moon dress. 

His eyes were looking at her as they had looked then, and they werethe good blue eyes of Mr. Balm of Gilead. It could not be that he wasreally here gazing at her. It must be some other man like him. But no!He had taken off his hat. He was saying something in the wellremembered--too well remembered!--voice. 

"How do you do, Miss Child? When you've finished with this lady, Ishall be so much obliged if you can speak to me for a minute. "

She bowed her head--quite a polite, ordinary sort of bow, just likethat of any well-trained saleslady to a prospective customer intendingto wait till she was free. But really it did not mean politeness atall. It meant that she had to hide her face, and that it was takingevery square inch of nerve force she had to behave in the least likea saleslady. 

It was seeing Peter Rolls suddenly--Peter Rolls in flesh and bone andmuscle and magnetism of eyes, which told her in a devastating flash athing about herself she had feared for months--ever since the day sheturned her back upon Mr. Balm of Gilead and the _Monarchic_. 

She was in love with him. Hideously, desperately, overwhelmingly inlove with him, just as ridiculous girls always were with men theyoughtn't to think of. Probably he had tried to make her so at firstwith his friendly, chivalrous ways that hid blacknesses underneath. 

She had escaped, thanks to his sister. And it looked as if thosehorrid hints had indeed been true, otherwise he would not havetroubled to persist after his snubbing. For he had persisted. Someglint of blue light in the steady eyes told her that. This was not acoincidence. Mr. Rolls had the air of having found her at last. Shemust make him sorry for it. Because, after her experience of the otherman who had persisted--though she thought herself forgotten--whyshould she hope against hope that this man was different?

At last the customer, who did not hurry in the least--rather thecontrary--wore all excuses for lingering to shreds, she waddled fatlyaway, carrying the lace cloak with her; and Win, not shirking theordeal as she had done when Jim Logan haunted Toyland, turned to PeterRolls. 

CHAPTER XXV

A PIECE OF HER MIND

"Miss Child, I've been looking for you for months!" were Peter's firstwords when he had her to himself. 

Instantly she knew what her pose ought to be. Not prim stiffness, notsuspicious maidenly dignity, but just smiling civility, a recognitionof past slight acquaintance. This would do for the beginning. Thismust surely show him that the tactics Ena credited him with wereuseless here. 

"Have you? How nice of you to say so, " she braced herself to replywith gayest indifference. "Well, I've been in this store for--a longtime, migrating from one department to another and learning thebusiness. I'm quite a fair saleswoman now, I assure you. Are you goingto buy a cloak? Because, if not--this is a busy morning. "

"Yes, I'll buy one as a present for my mother, " said Peter. "I shouldlike you to choose her something. I described her to you once, but Isuppose you've forgotten. She's little, and rather plump, and hasbeautiful white hair and a rosy complexion. But, Miss Child, I want totalk to you, not about cloaks, about yourself. I've asked permission, and they know who I am, and it's all right. I said you and my sisterwere friends. That's true, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"I believed _we_ were friends once. And we were, too. The more I'vethought of it, the surer I've been. Something happened to make youchange your mind about me. I was struck all of a heap at first. Ididn't have the sense to know what to say or do, to try and put myselfback where I had been. I let you go. And I lost you. But I'm not goingto lose you again. You can see how much in earnest I am when I tellyou that I haven't stopped looking for you for one single day after Irealized you wouldn't keep your promise about writing my sister. "

"It wasn't a promise, " breathed Win. "I--never meant to write to her. "

"I thought so!"

"Why should I? It was very kind of Miss Rolls to suggest it, if Ishould ever want help. But I didn't want help. All I wanted was to geton by myself. "

"I know you mean me to understand from that, Miss Child, that youdon't think I've any right to force myself on you after you showed meso plainly you thought me a bounder, " said Peter, not mincing hiswords or stumbling over them. "But I'm not a bounder. There must besome way of proving to you that I'm not. That's why I'm here for onething, though there's another---"

"What?" Winifred threw in, frightened, and thinking it better to cuthim short in time. 

"I want you to meet my mother and let her help you to get some kind ofa position more--more worthy of your talents than this. "

Win laughed aloud. "You run down your father's shop?"

"It's not good enough for you. "

She flushed, and all her pent-up anger against the House of the Handstingled in that flush. 

"You say so because I once had the great honour of being anacquaintance of yours--and your sister's, " she hurried breathlesslyon. "For all the rest of the people here, the people you don't knowand don't want to know, you think it good enough--too good, perhaps--even splendid! It does look so, doesn't it? Magnificent! Andevery one of your father's employees so happy--so fortunate to beearning his wages. They're worms--that doesn't matter to rich men likeyou, Mr. Rolls. Unless, perhaps, a girl happens to be pretty--or youknew her once and remember that she was an individual. Oh, you mustfeel I'm very ungrateful for your interest. Maybe you mean to bekind--about your mother. But give your interest to those who need it. I don't. I've seen your name in the papers--interviews--things you tryto do for the 'poor. ' It's a sort of fad, isn't it--in your set? Butcharity begins at home. You could do more by looking into things andrighting wrongs in your father's own shop than anywhere else in theworld. "

She stopped, panting a little, her colour coming and going She had notmeant this at first. It was far removed from smiling civility, this--tirade! But, as Sadie Kirk would say, "He had asked for it. "

He was looking at her with his straight, level gaze. He wasastonished, maybe, but not angry. And she did not know whether to beglad or sorry that she had not been able to rouse him to rage. Hislook into her eyes was no longer that of a young man for a youngwoman who means much to him. That light had died while the stream ofher words poured out. 

For a moment, when she had ceased, they stared at each other insilence, his face very grave, hers flushed and suggesting asuperficial repentance. 

"Forgive me, " she plumped two words into the pause, as if pumping airinto a vacuum. "I oughtn't to have said all that. It was rude. "

"But true? You think it's true?"

"Yes. "

"You have been working here in my father's store for months, and yousay I could do more good by righting the wrongs here than anywhereelse in the world. That sounds pretty serious. "

"It is serious. Whether I ought to have spoken or not. "

_"I_ tell you, you ought to have spoken. It was--brave of you. That'sthe way I always think of you, Miss Child, being brave--whateverhappens. And laughing. "

"I don't laugh now. "

"Not at other people's troubles--I know. But you would at your own. "

"I'm not thinking of my own. To-day of all days!"

He wondered what she meant. His mind flashed swiftly back to lastnight and all that had happened. He could have kissed the hem of herblack dress to see her here, safe and vital enough to fling reproachesat him for his sins--of omission. Yet he must stand coldly discussinggrievances. No, "coldly" was not the word. No word could have beenless appropriate to the boiling emotions under Peter Rolls's grave, composed manner. 

He let the baffling sentence go--a sentence which framed thoughts ofSadie Kirk. 

"I should like to hear from you the specific wrongs you want righted, "he said. "I know a girl of your sort wouldn't speak vaguely. You _do_mean something specific. "

"Yes--I do. "

"Then tell me--now. "

"You came to buy a cloak for your mother. "

"I didn't come for that, and you know it. I came for you. But you puta shield between us to keep me off. When you have emptied your heartof some of these grievances that are making it hot--against me, maybeyou won't have to put me at the same distance. Maybe you'll let me beyour friend again, if I can deserve it. "

"I don't want to talk or think of ourselves at all!" she broke out. 

"I don't ask you to. All that--and my mother's cloak, too--you needn'tbe getting down that box!--can wait. If you won't be my friend, anyhowshow me how to help your friends. "

"Oh, if you would do that!" Win cried. 

"I will. Give me the chance. "

Despite his injunction, she had taken from its neat oak shelf a box ofsummer wraps and placed it on the counter behind which she stood. Now, not knowing what she did, she lifted the cardboard cover and seemed topeep in at the folds of chiffon and silk. 

Peter looked not at the box, but at her pitiful, reddened hands on thelid. The blood mounted slowly to his temples and he bit his lip. He, too, was standing, though any one of several green velvet-coveredstools was at his service. He turned away, leaning so much weight onthe bamboo stick he held that it bent and rather surprised him. 

Suddenly the scene struck him as very strange, almost unreal--WinifredChild, his lost dryad, found in his father's store, separated from himby a dignified barrier of oak and many other things invisible! Thistalk going on between them--after last night! The hum of women'svoices in the distance (they kept their distance in this vastdepartment because he was Peter Rolls, Jr. , as all the employees bythis time knew) and the heavy heat and the smell of oak seemed to addto the unreality of what was going on. Fresias would have helped. Butthere was nothing here that suggested help--unless you wanted adviceabout a cloak. 

Win had been marshalling her ideas like an army hastily assembled tofight in the dark. 

"That is a favour I couldn't refuse to take from you, even if Iwould, " she said in a low voice, "to help my friends. "

"It is no favour. You'll be doing me that. "

She went on as if he had not spoken. 

"I don't know about any shops in New York except this one--only thingsI've heard. Some of the girls I've met here have worked in otherdepartment stores. They say--this is one of the worst. I have to tellyou that--now I've begun. There's no use keeping it back--or you won'tunderstand how I feel. There are real abuses. The Hands don't breakthe laws--that's all. About hours--we close at the right time, but thesalespeople are kept late, often very late, looking over stock. Notevery night for the same people, but several times a week. We haveseats, but we mustn't use them. It would look as if we were lazy--orbusiness were bad. We 'lend' the management half the time we'reallowed for meals on busy days--and never have it given back. Themeals themselves served in the restaurant--the dreadfulrestaurant--seem cheap, but they ought to be cheaper, for they'realmost uneatable. Those of us who can't go out get ptomain poisoningand appendicitis. I know of cases. Hardly any of us can afford enoughto eat on our salaries. I should think our blood must be almost white!

"But nobody here cares how we live out of business hours, so long aswe're 'smart' and look nice. When we _aren't_ smart--because we'reill, perhaps--and can't any longer look nice--because we're gettingolder or are too tired to care--why, then we have to go; poor, worn-out machines--fit for the junk shop, not for a department store!Even here, in Mantles, where we get a commission, the weak ones go tothe wall. We must be like wolves to make anything we can save for arainy day. But any girl or man who'll consent to act the spy onothers--_there's_ a way to earn money, lots of it. A few are tempted. They must degenerate more and more, I think! And there are otherthings that drive some of us--the women, I mean--to desperation. But Ican't tell you about them. You must find out for yourself--if youcare. "

"If I care!" echoed Peter. 

"If you do, why haven't you found out all these things, and more, longago?" she almost taunted him, carried away once again by the thoughtof those she championed--the "friends" she had not come to in herstory yet. 

"Because--my father made it a point that I should keep my hands offthe Hands. That was the way he put it. I must justify myself farenough to tell you that. "

"But--if one's in earnest, need one take no for an answer?"

"I suppose I wasn't in earnest enough. I thought I was. But I couldn'thave been. You're making me see that now. "

"I haven't told you half!"

"Then--go on. "

"You really wish it?"

"Yes. "

"The floorwalkers and others above them have power that gives them thechance to be horribly unjust and tyrannical if they like. There arelots of fine ones. But there are cruel and bad ones, too. And then--Ican't tell you what life is like for the under dog! And cheating goeson that we all see and have to share in--sales of worthless thingsadvertised to attract women. We get a premium for working off 'deadstock. ' Each department must be made to pay, separately and on its ownaccount, you see, whatever happens! And that's why each one is its ownsweatshop---"

"I swear to you this isn't my father's fault, " involuntarily Peterbroke in. "He's not young any more, you see, and he worked so hard inhis early years that he's not strong enough to keep at it now. Notsince I can remember has he been able to take a personal interest inthe store, except from a distance. He leaves it to others, men hebelieves that he can trust. Not coming here himself, he---"

"Why, he comes nearly every day!" Win cried out, then stoppedsuddenly at sight of Peter's face. 

"I--am sure you're mistaken about that one thing, Miss Child, " hesaid. "You must have been misinformed. They must have told you someone else was he---"

The girl was silent, but Peter's eyes held hers, and the look she gavehim told that she was not convinced. "You don't believe me?" he asked. 

"I believe you don't know. He does come. It's always been toward theclosing hour when I've seen him. The first time he was pointed out tome was by a floorwalker on Christmas Eve. I was in the toy departmentthen. He was with Mr. Croft. How strange you didn't know!"

"If it was father--perhaps I can guess why he didn't want us to findout. But even now I--well, I shall go home and ask him if he realizeswhat is happening here. Somehow I shall help your friends, MissChild. "

"I haven't told you about them yet, " Win said. "It was really onefriend who was in my mind. There may be ever so many others just assad as she. But I love her. I can't bear to have her die just becauseshe's poor and unimportant--except to God. Dr. Marlow thinks she'scurable. Only--the things she needs she can't afford to get, and Ihaven't any money left to buy them for her; just my salary, and nomore. There's one thing I can do, though! I'll learn to be a wolf, like some of the others, and snatch commissions. "

"Don't do that!" Peter smiled at her sadly. "I shouldn't like to thinkof you turning into a wolf. Your friend is sick---"

"She was told by the doctor yesterday that it was a case ofconsumption. I had a letter from her this morning--bidding megood-bye. You see, she was discharged on the spot, with only a week'swages. "

"Beastly!" exclaimed Peter. "There ought to be some kind of aconvalescent home in connection with this store--or two, rather, onefor contagious sort of things and the other not. I---"

"She wrote in her letter that she'd heard of a place whereconsumptives were taken in and treated free, " Win went on when hepaused. "But she wouldn't tell me where it was. And Dr. Marlow saysthere is nothing of the sort---"

"Oh, he can't have read the newspapers these last few days. It's beenopen a week. "

"Then _you_ know about it?"

"Yes. You see--it's a sort of--friend of mine who's started thescheme. The house is not very big yet. But he'll enlarge it if itmakes a success. "

"Quite free?"

"Yes. Anybody can come and be examined by the doctor. No case will berefused while there's room. I--my friend lost his dearest friend yearsago--a boy of his own age then--from consumption. It almost broke hisheart. And he made up his mind that when he grew up and had a littlemoney of his own, he'd start one of those open-air places in thecountry free. "

"I believe you're speaking of yourself!" exclaimed Win, her facelighting. Then Ena Rolls's brother couldn't be all bad!

"Well, I'm in the business, too. This must be the place the girl isgoing to. She shall be cured, I promise you. And when she's well sheshall have work in the country to keep her strong and make her happy. Will that please you?"

"Yes, " Win answered. "But--it doesn't please me to feel you're doingit for that reason. "

"I'm not. Only partly, at least. I'm thankful for the chance to help. And this shan't be all. There'll be other ways. Please don't think toobadly of me, Miss Child. I trusted my father, as he wished. And hetrusts Mr. Croft--too completely, I fear. "

Again Win was silent. She had heard things about Peter Rolls, Sr. , which made her fancy that he was not a man to trust any one buthimself. And she did not yet dare to trust his son. The look wascoming back into his eyes which made her remember that he was a manlike other men. Yet it was hard not to trust him! And because it wasso hard she grew afraid. 

"Give me the address of that convalescent home, " she broke her ownsilence by saying. "I want to write to my friend, Sadie Kirk--and goto see her--if she's really there. Mr. Rolls, I shall bless you if sheis cured. "

Petro had taken out his cardcase and was writing. 

"Then, sooner or later, I shall have my blessing, " he said quietly. "Couldn't you give me just a small first instalment of it now?Couldn't you tell me what changed you toward me on the ship? Had itanything to do with my family--any gossip you heard?"

"In a way, yes. But I can't possibly tell you. Please don't ask me. "

"I won't. But give me some hope that I can live it down. You see, Ican't spare you out of my life. I had you in it only a few days. Yetthose days have made all the difference. "

Win stiffened. 

"I can't let you talk to me like that, " she said almost sharply, ifher creamy voice could be sharp. "I hate it. You'll make me wish--formy own sake--if it weren't for my friend, I mean--that you hadn'tfound me here. I thought--I don't see why I shouldn't say it!--when Iasked for work in your father's store that none of the family wouldever come near the place. I was told they never did. But it wasn'ttrue. You all come!"

"You mean my father and I?"

"And Miss Rolls, too---"

"She came?"

"Yes, with Lord Raygan, and--and I think you and Lady Eileen werehere, too. "

"We were, " Peter said. "And so--you were in the store even then?Nobody told me. "

"I hoped they wouldn't. "

It was his turn to be silent, understanding Eileen's dream. Rayganmust have talked to her about the girl. But there would have beennothing to say, if Ena had not said it first. Ena had "explainedthings" to Raygan, perhaps--and then---

An old impression came back to Peter. He remembered Ena's protestagainst his friendship for a "dressmaker, " and her kindness later. Heremembered asking himself on the dock if Ena could have made mischief. He had put the thought away as treacherous, not once, but many times. Now he did not put it away. He faced it, and wondered if he couldever forgive his sister. It seemed at that moment that he never could. 

"Will you choose the cloak for Mrs. Rolls?" Win was asking in theprofessional tone of the obliging young saleswoman. 

"I--er--yes, I suppose so. Which one do you suggest?"

"Any of these would be charming for--the lady you've described. She'dlike it better, I'm sure, if you chose it yourself. "

"No, I want you to choose, please. I've already told her about you. Ifit hadn't been for her I shouldn't have found you so soon. She advisedme to try the Hands. No matter what you may think of me, there's onlyone opinion to have of mother. And you can't object to meeting her. You choose the cloak and I'll bring her to see you--in it. "

Win kept her eyes on the assortment of silk motoring and dust coatswhich she had arranged on the broad counter for Mr. Rolls'sinspection. Suddenly a great weight was lifted from her head, as ifkind hands had gently removed a tight helmet. 

Would such a man as Ena Rolls had sketched in her shadow portrait of abrother bring his mother to meet a shop girl whom he fancied? Itseemed not. Yet men of that type were the cleverest, as she alreadyknew. Maybe he didn't really mean to bring Mrs. Rolls. It would beeasy, from time to time, to postpone her visit. And Win was veryproud. She thought of Ena's annoyance at happening upon her in theelevator, and how reluctantly Miss Rolls had taken up the cue ofcordiality from Lord Raygan. Oh, it was best--in any case--it was theonly way to keep personalities out of her intercourse with the man whohad once been Mr. Balm of Gilead. 

"This silver gray is one of the prettiest of the new wraps, " sheglibly advertised her wares. 

"Very well, if you like it, I'll marry--I mean, I'll take it. Tell mehow you hurt your hands. "

"There's nothing to tell, " she put him off again, visibly freezing--anintellectual feat in such weather. "And--really, as I said before, Idon't care to talk about myself. "

Her look, even more than her words, shut Peter up. The cloak saved thesituation during a few frigid seconds. But as a situation it hadbecome strained. The only hope for the future was to go now. And Peterwent. He went straight back to Sea Gull Manor and to his father. 

CHAPTER XXVI

WHEN THE SECRET CAME OUT

Father was in the library when Peter got home. One did not open thedoor and walk straight into this sacred room. One knocked, and iffather happened to be engaged in any pursuit which he did not wish thefamily eye to see, he had time to smuggle it away and take up anewspaper, or even a book, before calling out "Come in. "

To-day, not being well, he was allowing himself the luxury of ajig-saw puzzle, but as he considered the amusement frivolous for a manof his position, at the sound of his son's voice he hustled the boardcontaining the half-finished picture into a drawer of his roll-topdesk. In order to be doing something, he caught up a paper. It was_Town Tales_, and his eye, searching instinctively for the name ofRolls, saw that of the Marchese di Rivoli coupled with it and aslighting allusion. A wave of physical weakness surged over thewithered man as he asked himself if he had done wrong in sanctioninghis daughter's engagement to the Italian. 

"What do you want?" he greeted Petro testily. 

He was invariably testy when indigestion had him in its claw, and histone gave warning that this was a bad moment Still Petro was burstingwith his subject. He could not bear to postpone the fight. Instead ofputting it off, he resolved to be exceedingly careful in his tactics. 

"I want to talk with you, Father, if you don't mind, " he beganpleasantly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"

"I am supposed to be left to myself in the mornings, " said Petersenior, martyrized. "Though I don't go to the store, I must readCroft's reports and keep in touch with things. "

"It's about the store I'd like to talk. " Peter was thankful for thisopening. He perched hesitatingly on the arm of an adipose easy chair, not having been specifically invited to sit. 

"Why, what have you got to say about the Hands?" Defiance underlaytone and look. 

"It was in this very room I promised you I'd keep my hands off theHands, " Peter quoted. "But I want you to let me take the promiseback. "

"I'll do nothing of the sort!" shrilled Peter senior. "What do youmean?"

"I need to work. I've tried other things, but my thoughts always comeback to the Hands. I'm proud of your success you know. I want to--tobatten on it. And I want to carry it on. I have ideas of my own. "

"I bet you have, and damned poor ideas, too, " snapped the old man. "I'm not going to have them tried in my place while I'm alive. "

"Let me tell you what some of them are, won't you, before you condemnthem?" his son pleaded, refusing to be ruffled. 

"No. I won't have my time wasted on any such childishness, " growledPeter senior. "You ought to know better than to trouble me with everysilly, trifling idea you get into your head. "

"To me this is not trifling, " Peter argued. "It's so serious that ifyou refuse to take me into your business--I don't care how humble aposition you start me--I shall begin to make my own way in the world. I can't go on as I am, living on you, with an allowance that comes outof the Hands, unless you give me some hope that I can soon work up tohaving a voice in the management. "

"I suppose what you are really hinting at is a bigger allowance undera different name, " sneered old Peter. "Now you're turningsocialist--oh, you don't suppose I'm blind when I come to your nameand your quixotic schemes in the newspapers! You don't like thered-hot chaps raving about 'unearned increment, ' or whatever they callit. "

"No, it isn't that, " Peter said simply. "I don't much care what peoplesay, so long as I can help things along a bit; though, of course, I'drather it would be with my money than yours, no matter how generousyou are about giving and asking no questions. I don't ask for more, orwant it. But I do want to feel that--forgive me, Father!--I do want tofeel that on the money I handle there's no sweat wrung out of men'sbodies or tears from women's eyes. "

Peter senior had sat only half turned from his desk, as if suggestingto Peter junior that the sooner he was allowed to get back to work, the better. But at these last words, unexpected as a blow, he swungviolently round in his revolving chair to glare at the young man. 

"Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. 

Peter sincerely hoped not, but felt that silence was safer thanputting his hopes into words. 

"This comes of turning socialist! You insult your father who supportsyou in luxury---"

"I don't mean to insult you, Father, and I don't want to be supportedin luxury. I want to work for every cent I have. I want to work hard. "

"I never thought, " Peter senior reflected aloud, abruptly changing histone, "to hear a son of mine spout this sort of cheap folderol, and Inever thought that any one of my blood would be weak enough to comecrawling and begging to break a solemn promise. "

"It means strength, not weakness, to break some promises--the kindthat never ought to have been made, " Peter junior defended himself. "I'd break it without crawling or begging if I thought you'd prefer, except that it would be no use. Unless I had your permission, Icouldn't get taken into the Hands. "

"Well, you don't get it. See?" retorted the head of the Hands asrudely as he could ever have spoken in old days to his humblestsubordinate. 

"Then, Father, if that's your last word on the subject, " said Petro, rising, "this means for you and me, where business is concerned, theparting of the ways. "

The old man's sallow face was slowly, darkly suffused with red. "You're trying to bully me, " he grunted. "But I'm not taking anybluff. "

"You misjudge me. " Petro still kept his temper. "I'd be a disgustingcad to try on such a game with you, and I don't think I am that. I'mmore thankful than I can tell you for all you've done for me. You'vehad a hard life yourself, and you've secured me an easy one. You neverhad time to see the world, but you let me see it because I longedto--when I saw you had no use for me in the business. You let me givemoney away and, thanks to your generosity, one or two schemes I had atheart are in working order already. There's enough saved out of myallowance for the last few years to see them through, if I never takeanother cent from you. And I never will, from this day on, Father, while you run the Hands on present lines. "

"You're a blank idiot!" snarled the old man; but a strained, almostfrightened look was stretched in queer lines on his yellow face. Hewas thinking of Ena and of the newspapers. He could hear the dogsyapping round his feet. 

"Young Peter Rolls breaks away from home. Earns his living with hisown hands, not father's Hands. What he says about his principles"--orsome such rot as that would certainly appear in big, black headlinesjust when Ena and her magnificent _marchese_ were searching thecolumns for gush over the forthcoming marriage. It would spoil thegirl's pleasure in her wedding. 

Old Peter was furious with young Peter, but began angrily to realizethat the matter was indeed serious. He desired to be violent, but fearof Ena dashed cold water on the fire of his rage. Against his will andagainst his nature he began to temporize, meaning later to revenge hispresent humiliation upon his son. 

"Who the devil has been upsetting you with lies about the Hands?" hespluttered. 

"I'm afraid we must take for granted that what has 'upset' me isn'tlies. " Peter let his sadness show in face and voice. "I don't wonderyou're surprised and perhaps angry at my coming to you and suddenlythrowing out some sort of accusations, when year after year I've beenreceiving money from the Hands as meek as a lamb without a word orquestion. I don't defend myself for lack of interest in the past orfor too much now. Maybe I'm to blame both ways. But please remember, Father, you said that unless I distrusted you, I was to stand aside. After that I was so anxious to prove I trusted you all right, that Ihurried to promise before I'd stopped to think. Since then I've beenmade to think--furiously to think--and---"

"I was brought up to believe there was _no_ excuse for breaking apromise, " Peter senior cut him short severely. There was Petro'schance to score, and--right or wrong--he took it. 

"Then things have changed since the days when you were being broughtup, " he said, with one of those straight, clear looks old Peter hadalways disliked as between son and father. "Because, you know youpromised Ena you would give up going to the store except for importantbusiness meetings once or twice a year. And you haven't given it up. You go there nearly every night. "

Peter senior physically quailed. His great secret was found out! Nouse to bluster. Somehow young Peter had got hold of the long-hiddentruth. He was, in a way, at the fellow's mercy. If Petro chose to tellEna this thing she would fancy that every one except the family knewhow old Peter's grubbing habits had never been shaken off; that withhim once a shopkeeper, always a shopkeeper, and that behind her backpeople must be laughing at the difference between her aristocraticairs and her father's commonness. 

The old man's stricken face shocked Peter. He was as much ashamed ofhimself as if he had kicked his father. 

"I oughtn't to have told you, I know, " he stammered. "Anyhow, not likethis. I'm sorry. "

Peter senior gathered himself together and feebly bluffed. 

"You needn't be sorry, " he blustered in a thin voice at the top of histhroat. "What do I care whether _you_ know or not? There's no disgracein looking after my own business, I guess! To please Ena, I've made asort of secret of it, that's all. I never 'promised. ' I only let herand other folks it didn't concern suppose I lived in idleness, likethe lords they admire so much. No harm in that! As for you, you'rewelcome to know what I do with my time when I go to New York. But it'snone of your business, all the same, and you'd better keep still aboutit, or you'll regret your meddling. Who told you? That's what I wantto get at. Who stuffed you up to the neck with all that damnednonsense about 'sweat and tears?' I bet it's the same man who tried toblackmail me with my own son about my going to the Hands nights. "

"It wasn't a man who told me, " said Peter, "it was a woman--or, rather, a girl. It was _me_ she was blaming, not you. She thought Iwas responsible for the wrongs she and other employees suffer from. She didn't know it was a secret, your visiting the place. She simplymentioned it as a fact---"

"And you, a son of mine, stood quietly listening to abuse of yourfather and the house that's made his fortune--his fortune andyours--from a pert young clerk in his store!"

At last Peter senior could speak with the voice of injured virtue. Hecould reach Peter junior with the well-deserved lash of reproach. Butno! The lash striking out, touched air. 

"Father, I listened because I love the girl, " Peter answered "Wait, please! Let me explain. I fell in love with her on the _Monarchic_. Then something happened and I lost sight of her. Yesterday I found herat the Hands. I wanted to talk to her about love, but she made melisten to her instead. She said sharp things about the store that cutlike knives. Don't think I'm accusing you if the Hands _is_ asweatshop. You trust Croft, and he's abused his trust. That must beit. For God's sake, give me a chance to help you put things straight. "

For a moment--a long moment--Peter senior did not speak, and Peterjunior would have given much to know where his thoughts had gone. Theywere away somewhere--with the Hands or with the girl who had madePetro listen. 

"Will you do it, Father? Will you give me a chance?" his son repeated. 

Old Peter started. "Old Peter" seemed the only name that fitted himjust then. 

"One of my children is going to marry a marquis and the other wants tomarry a clerk behind my counters, " he almost whimpered. 

Then Petro knew, without telling, which direction his father'sthoughts had taken. 

"Don't be afraid that she isn't a lady, " the young man humoured theold man's prejudices. "She's English and beautiful and clever andbrave. She saved a woman from being burned to death to-day at theHands. She didn't tell me that story, but I heard it. God made her tobe a princess. Misfortune put her behind a counter in our store. Oh, no! _not_ misfortune. Though she's had a hard time at the Hands, andshows it in her face, I believe she'd say herself that she's glad ofthe experience. And if through her those that have suffered wrong fromus can be--"

"Don't talk to me any more about all this just now, my son, " Petersenior suddenly implored rather than commanded "You've given me ashock--several shocks. I--I'm not fit for 'em to-day, I guess. I toldyou I wasn't well. I'm feeling bad. I'm feeling mighty bad. "

His looks confirmed his words. In the last few moments since the angryflush had passed, the old man's face had faded to a sicklier yellowthan Petro had ever seen upon it--except one day, long ago, when PeterRolls, Sr. , had tried to be a yachtsman in order to please Ena--andthe weather had been unkind. The young man was stabbed by remorse. Reason told him that now was the moment to press his point home. Butcompassion bade him withdraw it from the wound. It was true that hisfather was not well and had warned him of the fact at the beginning oftheir conversation. Petro had gone too far. 

"I'm sorry, Father, " he apologized. "I meant to stir you up, but Ididn't mean to give you a shock. Shall I ring? Is there anything youwant?"

"Only to be alone, " replied the other. "I'll lie down here on thesofa. By and by, if I don't feel better, I'll go to my room maybe andmake it dark and sleep this headache off. I don't remember when I'vebeen so bad. But don't say anything to your mother. "

"You mean about your going to the Hands? She knows about the girl. "

"No, I mean about my head. I don't care whether or no your motherhears that I go to the Hands. It's Ena and outside folks I care for, and them only for Ena's sake. She's so proud! And when she gets homefrom France--"

"Not a word to her, I promise. Nor to any one outside. But do youknow, I believe mother would be glad to hear that you sometimes go tothe store? She'd think it was like old times. And she loves the oldtimes. "

"Tell your mother anything you like. She's got a still tongue in herhead. " Peter senior gasped out his words with the desperate air of aman at the end of his tether. "Only go now--go, and let my head rest. You and I can discuss all these things later. That'll be best for usboth. "

Peter junior was silenced, though he thought he knew his father toowell to draw great encouragement from an offer of future discussion. The old man assuredly did feel ill, and it would have been brutal toforce him into further argument. The only thing was to go now andattack him again before the sensitive surface of his feelings had hadtime thoroughly to harden. 

Young Peter and his mother lunched alone together at the statelyEnglish hour of two which Ena had decreed for the household. Old Peterhad ordered a cup of hot milk and had sent word that, his indigestionbeing rather worse than usual, he intended to spend the afternoonlying down. This had often happened before, and mother, thoughdistressed, was not alarmed. 

She would not have admitted it in words to herself, but she was happyin her _tête-à-tête_ with Petro. He had his place moved near hers. They dared to dismiss the dignified servants and help themselves towhat they wanted. Or, rather, Petro jumped up and helped her, whethershe wanted things or not. They talked about Miss Child, and Petrorelated his adventure at the Hands, which he had not, until theluncheon hour, been able to describe in detail. 

He told his mother again, several times over, how wonderful Win was, and mother was not bored. She listened with a rapt smile, especiallyto the part about the fire in the hospital room and the girl's quickpresence of mind, Win having refused to confess how she had hurt herhands, Petro had used the influence of his name to find out tactfullyfrom another source, all that had happened. And he made quite a goodstory out of it for his mother. The latter promised gladly to go andsee Miss Child and to wear the pearl-gray wrap, which she thought verypretty, reflecting marvellous credit on the taste of the chooser. 

Petro did not touch upon Miss Child's indictment of the Hands. Itseemed unnecessary to distress mother just when she was interested andeven delighted (not at all shocked or startled) at having father'ssecret broken to her. 

"It's more natural, " she said, "that he should take an interest in theHands. More like he used to be. I often wondered---"

Another sentence which she did not need to finish!

For a while Petro's whole soul was so steeped in the joy of mother'ssympathy, and in plans for the future, that he forgot the faintuneasiness which had stirred within him at father's message about themilk. Something had seemed to whisper: "It's only an excuse. " And hisasking not to be disturbed all the afternoon, "can it mean that he'sgot a special reason for wanting to be let alone hour after hour?"

But Petro and mother had been deep in conversation before the whispercame. In the very midst of it she had asked a beautifullyunderstanding question about Win, and in answering Petro forgoteverything else for a time. 

They talked intimately in the big, unfriendly, imitation Elizabethandining-room which for once they had to themselves And then theycontinued their talk still more intimately in the "den. " It was onlythe grandfather clock striking four that reminded Petro of hisuneasiness and of the whisper. 

Why it did remind him he could hardly have explained, except that theclock had a very curious individuality for him. It had belonged to hisgreat grandmother and had come down through her to his mother. Even asa little boy he had felt that it was _more_ than a clock: it was anold friend who had ticked through the years, keeping time with theheart-beats of those for whom it told the passing moments of life anddeath. Often he had imagined that with its ticking it gave goodadvice, if only one could understand. Now, when it struck four, itseemed to Petro that it did so in a dry, peremptory manner intended tobe arresting, to remind him of something important that he was indanger of forgetting. 

This pause in his thoughts left room for the whisper to come again. It came, adding to its first suggestion: "Don't you know that whileyou and mother were lingering so happily over your lunch, father stoleaway and went off to make mischief between you and the girl?"

Petro sprang up. He was ashamed to harbour such a thought oftreachery, but it was there. He could easily learn whether father hadgone to New York by inquiring if one of the motors had been taken out. But it was hardly worth while to ask questions. Peter _knew_ that hisfather had gone, and why. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BATTLE

All the morning Win was in a state of strange, almost hysterical, exaltation. Again and again she warned her spirit down from theheights, but it would not hear, and stood there in the sunshinesinging a wild song of love and joy. 

Wonderful, incredible pictures painted themselves before her eyes. Shesaw Peter, impressed with her words--as indeed he had seemed tobe--and remembering them nobly for the benefit of the two thousandhands within the Hands. She saw herself as his wife (oh, bold, forbidden thought, which dared her to push it from her heart!) helpinghim reach the ideal standard of what a great department store shouldbe, planning new and highly improved systems of insurance, thinkingout ways for employees to share profits, and of giving them pensions. 

She, who knew what the hands suffered and what they needed, could dofor them what no outsider could ever do. With Peter's money and powerand the will to aid, there would be nothing they two could notaccomplish. Their love would teach them how to love the world. She sawthe grand Christmas parties and the summer picnics the Hands wouldgive the hands, and Peter's idea for a convalescent home should besplendidly carried out. She saw the very furniture and its chintzcovers--then the picture would vanish like a rainbow--or break intodisjointed bits, like the jig-saw puzzle Peter senior had hiddenshamefacedly in a drawer. 

For some moments Winifred's mind would be a blank save for a jumble ofParis mantles and warm customers, then another picture would form: shewould see Peter and herself sending Sadie Kirk to the mountains, wherethe girl would be even happier and healthier than at the new placewhich was "free for consumers. " Sadie would be Win's own specialcharge, her Mend, for whom she had the right and privilege to provide. No more work in shops for Sadie! No more work at all till she wascured. Perhaps a winter in the Adirondacks, then such radiant healthas the "sardine" had hardly ever known. 

Meanwhile the thoughts of Ursus must be turned from the girl who couldnever love him to the girl who already did. He and Sadie had been goodchums since the day when all three marched in procession toward Mr. Meggison's window--how long ago it seemed! The big heart of the liontamer was easily moved to pity, and pity was akin to love. Whenshe--Win--gently broke it to him that she was going to marry PeterRolls, whom she had loved before she ever saw her poor Ursus (ofcourse she had loved Peter always! that was why it had hurt her socruelly to believe Ena) the dear big fellow, pitying Sadie's weakness, would turn to his "little old chum" for comfort. 

Oh, yes, everything would come right! warbled the disobedient spiritsinging on the heights. Then the common sense and pride in Win wouldpluck the spirit's robe, and presto! another picture would dissolveinto gray cloud. 

Going out to luncheon (ice-cream soda and a sponge cake) somehowbroke the radiant charm. Common sense put the singing spiritrelentlessly into its proper place, where, discouraged, it sang nomore. Ugly memories of last night's danger and humiliation crowdedback into the brain no longer irradiated by Peter's presence. Win feltdully that none of the glorious fancies of the morning could ever cometrue, though she still hoped that her words might have some livinginfluence upon the future of the Hands. 

Even if Peter really and truly wanted to marry her (which seemedincredible), and his sister misjudged him (also well-nigh incredible), Ena Rolls and Ena Rolls's father would bar the way to any suchhappiness as the magic pictures had shown. It would be hateful toforce herself upon a snobbish family who despised her and let her seethat she was unwelcome. 

The girl was suddenly surprised because she hadn't seen, the momentPeter's back was turned (even if not before), that the oneself-respecting thing was to give up her place at the Hands. It wouldbe decent and rather noble to disappear as she had disappeared before, so that Peter, when he came again (as he surely would), should findher gone. 

This thought made so gloomy a picture in contrast with the forbiddenbright ones, that Win was nearer tears than she had been in thehospital room. 

"Laugh--laugh--if you laugh like a hyena!" she was saying to herselfbetween half-past four and five, when other girls were thinking of thenice things they would do when they got home. 

Win envied them. She wished the things that satisfied them couldsatisfy her. Yet, no, she did not wish that. Divine dissatisfactionwas better. She must keep that conviction before her through yearswhich might otherwise be gray. For now she was quite sure that nothingbeautiful, nothing glorious, nothing even exciting, could ever happento her. And it was at this very moment that she received a peremptorysummons to Mr. Croft's office. 

"It'll be about the fire, maybe, " the nicest girl in the departmentencouraged her. "I shouldn't wonder if they're going to give you areward. If there was anything wrong, the word would come throughMeggison sure. "

Win smiled thanks as she went to her fate; the girl was kind, not ofthe tigress breed. But she couldn't guess how little any paltry act ofinjustice from the Hands would matter now. 

Miss Child had never before been called to the office of the great Mr. Croft, but she knew where it was, and walked to the door persuadingherself that she was not in the least afraid. Why should she be afraidwhen she intended--really _quite_ intended--to leave the Hands of herown accord?

There was an outer office guarding the inner shrine, and here a girltypist and a waxy-faced young man were getting ready to go home. Itwas now very near the closing hour. The waxy-faced youth, a secretaryof Mr. Croft's, minced to the shrine door, opened it, spoke, returned, and announced that Miss Child was to go in. He even held the door forher, which might be a sign of respect, or of compassion for one aboutto be executed. Then, as the girl stepped in, the door closed behindher, and she stood in an expensively hideous room, looking at alittle, dried-up dark man who sat in Mr. Croft's chair at Mr. Croft'sdesk. But he was not Mr. Croft. He was Peter Rolls, Sr. 

Win recognized him instantly and knew not what to think. Luckily hedid not keep her long in suspense. 

"You Miss Child?" he shortly inquired, holding her with a steadystare, which from a younger man would have been offensive. 

"I am, sir, " she said in the low, sweet voice that Peter junior loved. Even Peter senior was impressed with it in spite of himself, impressedwith the whole personality of the young woman whom Petro had said was"made to be a princess. " She looked a more difficult proposition thanhe had expected to tackle. 

"Know who I am?" he continued his catechism. 

"You are Mr. Rolls. "

"What makes you so sure of that, eh?"

"You were pointed out to me one evening last winter, when you wereinspecting the shop with Mr. Croft. "

"Nobody had any business pointing me out. Who did?"

"I'm afraid I've forgotten, " said the girl, more calmly than she felt. "It was so long ago. "

"You seem to have been dead certain he was right. "

"I took it for granted. "

"That's dangerous, taking things for granted. I advise you not to doit, Miss Child. "

Still he stared as she received his advice in silence. Not a featureof the piquant, yet proud, arresting face, not a curve of the slimfigure, did his old eyes miss. 

"I guess you haven't forgotten who pointed me out, " he persisted, after a pause. "Now think again. _Have_ you? It might pay toremember. "

"I do not remember, sir. " She threw up her head in the characteristicway which the other Peter knew. 

"Sure nothing could make you remember?"

"I'm sure nothing could. "

"Very well, then, we must let that go for the present. Now to anothersubject. I hear you showed a good deal of pluck this morning inputting out a fire. "

"Oh, after all, it may be only that!" Win thought. 

She ought to have been relieved. But she was not certain whetherrelief was her most prominent emotion. The girl did not quite knowwhat to make of herself, and the man was not giving her much time forreflection. 

"The little I did was done on the spur of the moment, " she said. "Idon't deserve any credit. "

"Well, I may be inclined to think different when it comes to settlingup. That depends on several things. We'll come to 'em by and by. You're English, ain't you?"

"Yes. "

"H-m! You look as if you ought to have titles running in your family. Have you got any?"

Win fancied that this must be her employer's idea of a joke, but hisface was grave, and even curiously eager. "Not one, " she answered, smiling. 

"No connections with titles?"

"Why, yes, we have some cousins afflicted in that way, " she lightlyadmitted, beginning to be faintly amused as well as puzzled. "Almostevery one has, in our country, I suppose. "

"What sort of title is it?"

"Oh, my father's second cousin happens to be an earl. "

"An earl, is he? That stands pretty high, I guess, on your side. Anychance of your father inheriting?"

This time Win allowed herself the luxury of a laugh. What a strangeold man! And this was Mr. Balm of Gilead's father!

She was still in the dark as to why he had sent for her. But it mustbe on account of the fire. His curiosity was very funny. In any oneexcept Peter's father she would have considered it ridiculous. Maybehe wanted to work up a good "story" in the newspapers. Very likely itcould be turned into an "ad" for the Hands if the cousin of an Englishearl had saved a fellow employee from burning up, and it would bestill more thrilling if the heroine might some day turn into a haughtyLady Winifred Something. She shook her head, looking charming. Evenold Peter, staring so intently, must have admitted that. 

"There's not the remotest chance, " she replied. "Our cousin, LordGlenellen, has six sons. Four are married and having more sons everyyear. I don't know how many there are. And I'm sure that they'veforgotten our existence. "

"Well, there ain't much show for you in that connection!"

Mr. Rolls reluctantly abandoned the earldom. "What's your father, anyhow?"

"A clergyman, " said Win. "A poor clergyman, or I should never haveseen America. "

"I suppose you'd have married some fellow over there. What did you dofor a living on your side?"

"I hadn't begun to do anything till I engaged with Nadine--thedressmaker, you know--to be one of her models on board the _Monarchic_so as to get my passage free. I thought I should be sure to make afortune in New York. "

"Yes, I guess that was your point of view. You're frank about it, ain't you?"

"One may be about a lost illusion. "

"There's more than one way for a girl to make a fortune. Maybe you andI can do business. So you were one of those models when you first metmy son?"

Win would not have been flesh and blood if that shot had not told, especially after the old man's funny catechizing had lured heramusingly away from suspicion. She quivered, and a bright colourstained her cheeks. Nevertheless those peering eyes found no guilt inher look. 

"Yes, " she answered bravely. "He bought a dress from us for hissister. "

"One excuse is as good as another for a young fellow. What else did hedo?"

"Gave us patent medicine. We were all dreadfully seasick. "

"You don't mean to tell me he fell in love with you when you wereseasick?"

"I don't mean to tell you that he fell in love with me at all, Mr. Rolls. "

"I guess you didn't mean to. But, you see, I made you own up. "

"There was nothing to tell. "

"Well, the murder's out, anyhow. And that brings us back to a point Iwant to make. Now that affair of this morning. You say you'reentitled to no credit. But I've been thinking I'd like to make it upto you by giving a reward. "

"I couldn't think of taking it!" cried Win. 

Strange that he should break off suddenly from the subject of his son(which, apparently, he had intended pursuing to some end), and jumpback to that of the fire! He must have a motive--he looked a man tohave motives for everything. She felt that he was laying a trap forher, if she could only find it. 

"Wait a minute. Give me time to make myself clear, " he went on. "I'mnot talking about medals or lockets or silver cups for good girls. Imean a thumping sum, a big enough stone to kill two birds. Folks notin the know would think that it was for saving life. Those _in_ theknow (meaning me and you, and nobody else) would understand that itwas for saving my son. No disrespect to _you_. I want to put itdelicately, miss. Saving him from a _mistake_. "

Win had always thought "How dare you?" a very silly expression, nomatter what the provocation. Yet now she was tempted to use it. Onlyher subconscious sense of humour, which warned her it would beridiculous from Peter Rolls's "saleslady" to Peter Rolls himself, madeher bite back the words that rushed to the end of her tongue. 

"You have a strange idea of putting things delicately!" she cried. "You offer me a reward if I--if I--oh, I can't say it!"

"I can, " volunteered the old man coolly. "And I'll tell you just howmuch I offer. Maybe that'll help your talking apparatus. I'll give youten thousand dollars. Wouldn't that be something like making yourfortune in New York?"

"If it were ten millions it would make no difference, " the girl flungat him. "I---"

"Say, you set a high value on my son Peter. But if he marries you, mygirl, he won't be worth any millions, or even thousands, I tell youstraight. He won't be worth a red cent. You'd better pick up my offerwhile it's going, and drop Peter. Maybe with ten thousand dollars ofyour own, one of your young cousins, the earls, might find you worthwhile. "

Never had Win even dreamed that it was possible for a human soul so toboil with anger as hers had now begun to boil. She wanted to scaldthis hateful old man with burning spray from the geyser. At last sheunderstood the rage which could kill. Yet it was in a low, restrainedvoice that she heard herself speaking. 

"Please don't go on, " she warned him. "I suppose you don't quiterealize how hideously you're insulting me. A man who could say suchthings wouldn't. And only such a man _could_ misunderstand--couldthink that instead of refusing his money I was bidding for more. Iwanted to say that you could save your son and your pocket, too. Neither are in danger from me. "

"That ain't the way the boy feels about it, " Peter senior slipped thewords in slyly. "If he did, I wouldn't have sent for you. "

This was the last drop in the cup. 

"What?" cried the girl, towering over the shrunken figure in therevolving chair. "_Your son asked you to send for me_? Then he's asbad, as cruel, as you are. "

A red wave of rage swept over her. She no longer knew what she wassaying. Her one wish--her one object in life, it seemed just then--wasto hurt both Peters. 

"I hate him!" she exclaimed. "Everything I've heard about him is true, after all. He's a false friend and a false lover--a dangerous, cruelman to women, just as I was warned he was. "

"Stop right there, " broke in Peter's father. "That's damn nonsense, and you know it. Nobody ever warned you that my boy was anything ofthe kind. "

"I was warned, " she beat him down, "that it was a habit of your son towin a girl's confidence with his kind ways and then deceive her. "

"Then it was a damned lie, and no one but a damned fool would believeit, " shouted Peter Rolls, Sr. "My boy a deceiver of women? Why, he's aGala-what-you-may-call-it! He'd die any death sooner than harm awoman. I'm his father, and I know what I'm talking about. Who thedevil warned you? Some beast, or some idiot?"

"It was neither. "

"Who was it, then? Come, out with it. I dare you to. I'll have himsued for slander. I'll---"

"It wasn't a he. It was a woman who ought to know at least as muchabout him as you do. "

"There's no such woman, except his mother, and she worships the groundhe walks on. Thinks he's a kind of up-to-date Saint George, and I'mhanged if she's far wrong. Why, since Peter was a boy he's never caredthat"--and a yellow thumb and finger snapped for emphasis under Win'seyes--"for any woman till he got silly over you. "

The girl laughed a fierce little laugh. "You tell me this? You defendhim to me? Is that policy?"

Peter senior suddenly looked foolish. He had straightened himself toglare at the upstart. Now he collapsed again. 

"No, it _ain't_ policy, " he confessed, "but I guess it's human nature. My blood ain't quite dried up yet, and I can't sit quiet while anybodyblackguards my own flesh and bone. You tell me who said these thingsabout him!"

"I will not tell you. "

"Don't you know I'm liable to have you discharged for impudence?"

"You can't discharge me, for I've already discharged myself. I'drather starve than serve one more day at your horrid old Hands. "

"Horrid old Hands, eh? I can keep you from getting a job in any otherstore. "

"I don't want one. I've had enough of stores. I am not afraid ofanything you can do, Mr. Rolls. Though they do call you 'Saint Peter'behind your back--meaning just the opposite--you haven't the keys ofheaven. "

"You're an impudent young hussy. "

"Perhaps. But you deserve impudence. You deserve worse, sir. A momentago I hated you. I--think I could have killed you. But--but now Ican't help admiring something big in you, that makes you defend yourson in spite of yourself, when it was policy to let me loathe him. "

"'Loathe' is no word to use for my boy, " the old man caught her upagain. "I don't want you to marry him, no! But, whatever happens, Ican't have you or any one else doing him black injustice. "

"Then, 'whatever happens, ' I'll admit to you that never in the bottomof my heart did I believe those things. I didn't believe them to-day, but I--you were so horrible--I had to be horrible, too. There! Thesame motive that made you defend him against your own interest hasmade me confess that to you now. But you needn't be afraid. I don'tthink in any case I could have married him knowing how his--his familywould feel. Still I might, if he'd tried to persuade me; I can't besure. I might have been weak. As it is, though--after you've insultedme in this cruel way, I believe nothing would induce me to say yes ifhe asked me. And he never _has_ asked me. "

"Never has asked you?" echoed Peter senior, dumbfounded. 

Some one had begun to knock at the door, but he did not hear. Neitherdid Winifred. Each was absorbed in the other. Insensibly their tonesin addressing each other were changed. Some other ingredient hadmysteriously mingled with their rage; or, poured upon its stormysurface, had calmed the waves. They were enemies still, but the girlhad found the man human; the man, because he was man, found himselfyielding to her woman's domination. 

Petro said God had made her a princess. She was only a shop girl, andthe vain old man wanted her out of his way--intended to put her out ofhis way, by hook or by crook; but all the same in look and manner shewas his ideal of a girl queen, and he could understand Petro being afool over her. 

"He never has asked you? But I thought---"

(_Tap, tap, _ for the second and third time. )

"I know what you thought. You wouldn't listen when I tried toexplain. "

(_Tap, tap, tap_! No answer. And so the door opened. )

"It isn't only that your son hasn't asked me to marry him, he hasn'teven told me he cared. "

"But he does both now, " said Peter Rolls, Jr. , on the threshold. 

As he spoke he came into the room with a few long, quick steps thattook him straight to Win, as if he wanted to protect her against hisfather if need be. And timidly, yet firmly, he was followed by Mrs. Rolls, wearing the new gray wrap. 

"I'd have told you long ago if I'd had the chance, " he went on. "Itold father this morning that I'd loved you ever since the firstminute I saw you, and that you were the only girl who ever was or everwould be. I don't know what he's been saying to you, but I felt hemeant to--to--see what you were like. So I came. And nothing mattersif you can care a little and have faith enough in me to---"

"That's just what she doesn't do and hasn't got!" interpolated Petersenior. "The girl's been calling you every name she could turn hertongue to. Said she was warned against you by some woman--she wouldn'ttell me who it was---"

"I know who it was, " put in his son. 

"You do? We'll send her a writ, then---"

"We can't. She isn't in the country just now. "

"I did say the most hateful things, " Win admitted, "because yourfather made me so angry. And--_he defended you_ against me! He saidnobody but a fool could ever for a minute have believed such thingswere true. And he was perfectly right. Can you forgive me?"

"Why, I love you, you know, " said Peter. "And whether you everbelieved anything wrong of me or not, I--I almost think you love me alittle now to make up. You couldn't look at me like that if youdidn't, could you? It wouldn't be fair. "

"I mustn't look at you at all, then, " Win answered, pushing him gentlyaway as he tried to take her hands. "Please let me go. I can't---"

"_I_ wouldn't let you go, if he did, my dear, " said a gentle voicethat had not spoken yet. "I guess a girl that saves people fromthemselves when they're on fire, burning up, and don't know in theleast what they're doing, would be just the kind of new daughter wewould like to have now when we have to let our own leave us. Why, youwould be worth your weight in gold at our house. Isn't that so, Father?"

For once mother had finished four consecutive sentences in herhusband's presence. But this was an unusual occasion It seemed to herthat its like could never come again, and that here was her chance ofa lifetime to stand by Petro. 

"H-m!" grunted Peter senior. "The girl ain't a coward, anyhow. Shestood up to me like a wildcat. Said she hated me. Said she wouldn'ttake Peter if I paid her to--or words to that effect. Well, I didn'texactly offer to pay her for doing that, rather the other way around. But when she had the gorgeous cheek to up and say, after all, that she_liked_ me for defending you, why, I--well, I don't know how it was, but all of a sudden I weakened to her. She _got_ me same way as shegot you, Peter, I suppose. Maybe it was with one of her laughs!Anyhow--look here, miss. If you'll take back _your_ words, I'll takeback _mine. _ Cut 'em right out. "

"Which words?" Win cautiously wanted to know. 

"The whole lot, while we're about it. I guess a sister-in-law who'sgot earls for cousins ought to be good enough for a _marchesa. _ You've_got_ me, I tell you! And you can have Peter, too, if you want him. Doyou?"

"I do, " answered Win--and laughed again, the happiest, most surprised, and excited laugh in the world. 

"Then we've got each other--forever!" cried Petro. "And, Father, youand I will have each other, too, after this, as we never had before. You shall bless this day as I do, and as mother will. "

"All right, " said old Peter. "We'll see about that. Anyhow, shakehands. "

Petro shook. 

"And you, too, girl. "

Winifred hesitated slightly, then held out her burned fingers. 

Peter senior gave them deliberately to his son. 

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "Now we're all three in the business. "

"And this is the way we're going to run it in future, " said Petro. "With love. "

THE END