She slipped her hand into his.

"Harry, I still feel afraid. It was such a dreadful thing to see. Was
that man killed? It was he who asked me to sing. They had been
disappointed about getting a singer, he said, and he gave me ten dollars.
All that money for a few songs--it seemed like stealing. But I took it.
Mother helped put on this dress they gave me to sing in. You know I went
there to help mother clean the place. And to think we saw a murder!"

"My poor darling!" Something in his voice caused her to put her hand up
to his face. He felt her finger tips on his eyelids, then down his wet
cheeks.

"My poor darling!" She put her arm around his neck--then their trembling
lips met.

Harry was the first to speak. "All that you have gone through brings us
closer together than anything else in life possibly could, Patience. I am
so proud of you and so down on myself that I ever let you out of my
sight--"

"You must not be down on my--"

"Say it, dear! I want to hear my sweetheart say the word."

"I was going to say 'my dearest,' but I'll say,--if you want me
to,--my--my husband."

"You dear, sweet wife!" responded Harry.

After a few moments Harry observed that they were being taken farther
than he had directed the man to go. The boarding-house was rather close
to town. He found that they were well on the north side, nearing the
quarter of his father's house. He called to stop the driver, but the man
remained deaf to his efforts, except to increase the speed, and presently
drew up at the Boland mansion.

"How dare you bring me here?" Harry demanded, stepping out of the car to
remonstrate.

"Orders."

"Orders! I ordered you where I wanted you to go. Here, if you need two
fares for one job, you swindler! Hold on--"

"Driver! Come here."

Harry heard his father's stern voice from the opened doorway. "Driver!
Take that girl wherever she wants to go. Harry, come in here! It's time
for a show-down."

"It certainly is time for a show-down!" Harry assisted Patience from the
car. "You may wait and earn the fare I just paid you or go to jail," he
said to the driver, and boldly led Patience into his father's house.

The elder Boland turned into a den at the right of the front hallway and
closed the door. He looked at Patience with an appraising glance, then
kindly at his son.

"I suppose you must be humored in this affair," he said in an indulgent
manner, "while you haven't sense to see that the present is scarce