Bell's. There he came unprepared upon the
strangest sight he had ever seen in Addington. Sophy, her cynical, pert
face actually tied up into alarm, red, creased and angry, was standing
in the library, and Madam Bell, in a wadded wrapper and her nightcap,
was counting out money into her trembling hand. To Sophy, it was as
terrifying as receiving money from the dead. She had always looked upon
Madam Bell as virtually dead, and here she was ordering her to quit the
house and giving her a month's wages, with all the practicality of a
shrewd accountant. Madam Bell was an amazing person to look at in her
wadded gown and felt slippers, with the light of life once more
flickering over her parchment face.

"Rhoda Knox is gone," she announced to Jeff, the moment he walked in. "I
sent her yesterday. This girl is going as soon as she can pack."

Jeff gave Sophy a directing nod and she slipped out of the room. She was
as afraid of him as of the masterful dead woman in the quilted wrapper.
Anything might happen since the resurrection of Madam Bell.

"Where is she?" asked Jeff, when he had closed the door.

"Esther?" said Madam Bell. "Gone. She's taken every stitch she had that
was worth anything. Martha told me she was going for good."

"Who's Martha? Oh, yes, yes--Madame Beattie."

The light faded for an instant from the parchment face.

"Don't tell me," she sharply bade him, "Esther's coming back?"

"No," said Jeff. "If she does, she shall come to me."

He went away without another word, and Madam Bell called after him:

"Tell Amabel to look round and get me some help. I won't have one of
these creatures that have been ruling here--except the cook. Tell Amabel
to come and see me."

Jeff did remember to do that, but not until he had telephoned New York,
and got his meagre fact. One of the boats sailing that morning had,
among its passengers, J. L. Reardon and Mrs. Reardon. He did not inquire
further. All that day he stayed at home, foolishly, he knew, lest some
message come for him, not speaking of his anxiety even to Lydia, and
very much let alone. That Lydia must have given his father some
palliating explanation he guessed, for when Jeff said to him:

"Father, Esther's gone abroad," the colonel answered soothingly:

"Yes, my son, I know. It is in every way best."

* * * * *

The next week came the election, and Jeff had not got into the last grip
of contest. He had meant to do some pe