lect what I told you?"

"About--?" Mrs. Fairchilds glanced quickly at Mrs. Jack.

"Yes. Every word was true, and there will be a great upheaval shortly.
But not a word to a soul. I never gossip, but in this instance I feel
it my duty to warn you. How and where I learned the truth is
immaterial. I have learned it, and that is sufficient. It is
frightful; it makes my blood boil when I think of it. And she goes
everywhere, as if she had a perfect right."

"What have you found?" Mrs. Fairchilds could scarcely breathe, so
great was her curiosity.

"You will learn soon enough without my telling you." And that was all
Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene would say.

But it was enough, enough for her purpose. Within an hour's time all
the old doubt had been stirred into life again, and the meddlers
gathered about for the feast. It is all so simple and easy.

Mrs. Jack moved here and there, serenely beautiful, serenely happy,
serenely unconscious of the blow that was soon to strike at the very
heart of her life. Once in a while her brows would draw together
abstractedly. She was thinking of John, and of the heartaches he was
having over the action of the men at the shops.

Patty was not gay. She seemed to be impatient to leave. Three or four
times she asked Mrs. Jack if she were ready to go; she was tired, the
people bored her, she wanted to go home. Finally Mrs. Jack
surrendered.

That night at dinner John was very quiet and absent-minded. The shops,
the shops, he was thinking of them continuously. In his heart of
hearts he had no faith in the reporter's influence. The strike mania
had seized the men, and nothing now could hold them back. He knew they
would doubt his threat to tear down the buildings. Not till he sent
the builder's wrecking crew would they understand. Not a hair's
breadth, not the fraction of an inch; if they struck, it would be the
end. He gazed at his wife, the melting lights of love in his handsome
eyes. Hey-dey! She would always be with him, and together they would
go about the great world and forget the injustice and ingratitude of
men. But it was going to be hard. Strong men must have something to
lay their hands to. He knew that he could not remain idle very long;
he must be doing something. But out of the shops he felt that he would
be like a ship without steering apparatus--lost, aimless, purposeless.

"John?"

He woke from his dream, and forced a smile to his lips.

"You haven't eaten anything."

"I'