oned," as they would have
said, when she arrived in the morning; but as the day wore on, and there
was no further telephone message for her from Gaga, they began to forget
what had happened on the previous day. Sally worked like a mouse, her
brain exulting in its vivid memories of her time with Toby; and she did
not think of Gaga at all. She only hoped that he would not come to the
office. She was feeling too tired to deal effectively with any
peevishness from Gaga; although, the causes of her hysteria having been
removed, she was not likely to repeat the failure of that other restless
night. A heaviness hung upon her as the day wore on; a kind of thick
readiness for sleep. She yawned over her work. The workroom seemed
stuffy, the day unusually long. The nervous strain of the past few days
was reacting, and even Sally's vitality was shaken by the consequences
of her successive excitements. When tea-time came she was relieved. But
there had been no news of Gaga, or from him: not even a message through
Miss Summers. Miss Summers grew more and more fidgetty and anxious as
the hours went by.

"I do hope nothing's happened," she clucked. "So funny not having heard.
I wonder if I ought to telephone to ask. Perhaps Mr. Bertram's ill. Did
you _see_ him last night? D'you think I ought to ring up? I'm so
worried. It's so strange, and Madam being so ill, and that."

"I shouldn't worry," urged Sally. "He'll 'phone fast enough if there's
anything to say. Look at yesterday."

"Yes; but perhaps he's ill himself."

"Sick," commented Sally. "He's bilious, you know."

Miss Summers shook her head, and sighed.

"Yes," she readily agreed. "I'm afraid he's not the man his mother is."

They had hardly finished speaking when Miss Summers was called to the
telephone. She was away for two or three minutes; and returned with
tears streaming down her cheeks. All their pink plumpness was softened
into a blur of tearful weakness. She was bent and dissolved under
disaster. As she made her way up the long workroom to her place the
girls all craned their necks to look at Miss Summers, and one or
two--the kinder ones--rose to see if they could do anything to comfort
her. But it was to Sally that Miss Summers turned, and within an inch of
Sally's cheeks that she shook her tear-stained face. At first she could
not speak; but grimaced like a child, as if her cold nose was smarting.
Sally was first to hear the news; but all of them had known it from