York
insisted. "Come, Mrs. Bahrr, we can finish our talk for to-day in one
place as well as another. My sister and I are going across the river to
spend the evening, so it will be late to-morrow before I can get those
papers ready for you."

Mrs. Bahrr rose reluctantly, hooking her sharp eyes into the girl as she
passed out. What she noted was a very white face where the color of the
cheeks seemed burned in, and big, shining eyes. Of course the
broad-brimmed chiffon hat with beaded medallions, the beaded parasol to
match, and the beaded hand-bag of the same hues did not escape her eyes,
especially the pretty hand-bag.

York closed the door behind the two, leaving Jerry in quiet possession
of the inner room, while he seated Mrs. Bahrr in the outer office and
engaged in the business that had brought her to him. He knew that she
would be torn between two desires: one to hurry through and leave the
office, and so be able to start a story of leaving Jerry and himself in
a questionable situation; the other to stay and see the fair caller as
she came out, and to learn, if possible, why she had come, and to enjoy
her confusion in finding a woman still engaging York's time. Either
thing would be worth while to Mrs. Bahrr, and while she hesitated York
decided for her.

"I'll keep her with me, the old Long Tongue. Yea, she shall roost here
in my coop till the little girl gets clear to 'Castle Cluny.' She
sha'n't run off and overtake her prey and then cackle over it later.
Jerry has committed the unpardonable sin of being young and pretty and
good; the Big Dipper will make her pay for the personal insult."

In the midst of their business conversation Jerry Swaim came from the
inner room, and with a half-audible word of thanks left the office. Mrs.
Bahrr's back was toward the door, and, although she turned with a
catlike quickness, she failed to see anything worth while except to get
another good look at the hand-bag. Something told York Macpherson that
the message in her letter held a tragical meaning for the fair-faced
girl who had waited so eagerly for its coming.

At dinner that evening York was at his best.

"I must make our girl keep an appetite," he argued. "Nothing matters if
a dinner still carries an appeal. By George! I've got to do my best, or
I'll lose my own taste for what Laura can set up if I don't look out. We
are all getting thin except Laura. Even Ponk is losing his strut a bit.
And why? Oh, confound it! the