kness, and as the young
girl for an instant stood dazedly still, Bob incontinently lifted her
from her feet, deposited her in the vehicle, dropped Jimmy in her lap,
and wrapped them both tightly in the bearskin. Her weight, which
was scarcely more than a child's, struck him in that moment as being
tantalizingly incongruous to the matronly severity of her manner and its
strange effect upon him. He then jumped in himself, taking the direction
from his companion, and drove off through the storm.

The wind and darkness were not favorable to conversation, and only
once did he break the silence. "Is there any one who would be likely to
remember--me--where we are going?" he asked, in a lull of the storm.

Miss Boutelle uncovered enough of her face to glance at him curiously.
"Hardly! You know the children came here from the No'th after your
mother's death, while you were in California."

"Of course," returned Bob hurriedly; "I was only thinking--you know
that some of my old friends might have called," and then collapsed into
silence.

After a pause a voice came icily, although under the furs: "Perhaps
you'd prefer that your arrival be kept secret from the public? But they
seem to have already recognized you at the hotel from your inquiry about
Ricketts, and the photograph Jimmy had already shown them two weeks
ago." Bob remembered the clerk's familiar manner and the omission to ask
him to register. "But it need go no further, if you like," she added,
with a slight return of her previous scorn.

"I've no reason for keeping it secret," said Bob stoutly.

No other words were exchanged until the sleigh drew up before a plain
wooden house in the suburbs of the town. Bob could see at a glance that
it represented the income of some careful artisan or small shopkeeper,
and that it promised little for an invalid's luxurious comfort. They
were ushered into a chilly sitting-room and Miss Boutelle ran upstairs
with Jimmy to prepare the invalid for Bob's appearance. He noticed that
a word dropped by the woman who opened the door made the young girl's
face grave again, and paled the color that the storm had buffeted to
her cheek. He noticed also that these plain surroundings seemed only
to enhance her own superiority, and that the woman treated her with a
deference in odd contrast to the ill-concealed disfavor with which she
regarded him. Strangely enough, this latter fact was a relief to his
conscience. It would have been terrible to