t, in desperate adventure, he
stayed on.

Hutchins, soon perceiving that he was a man of some education, and
finding out that he was the oft-talked-of guest of "The Principal,"
continued to entertain him cheerfully enough. "Now," said he, "talking
of people to help, I've got a girl in my house now--well, I may say I
fell on my feet when I got her." Then followed a history of his dealings
with Eliza, including an account of his own astuteness in perceiving
what she was, and his cleverness in securing her services. Bates
listened hungrily, but with a pang in his heart.

"Aye," said he outwardly, "you'll be keeping a very quiet house here."

"You may almost call it a religious house," said Hutchins, taking the
measure of his man. "Family prayer every Sunday in the dining-room for
all who likes. Yes," he added, rubbing his hand on his lame knee,
"Canadians are pious for the most part, Mr. Bates, and I have the illeet
of two cities on _my_ balconies."

Other men came in and went out of the room. Women in summer gowns passed
the door. Still Bates and Hutchins talked.

At last, because Bates waited long enough, Eliza passed the door, and
catching sight of him, she turned, suddenly staring as if she knew not
exactly what she was doing. There were two men at the bar drinking.
Hutchins, from his high swivel chair, was waiting upon them. They both
looked at Eliza; and now Bates, trembling in every nerve, felt only a
weak fear lest she should turn upon him in wrath for being unfaithful,
and summoned all his strength to show her that by the promise with which
he had bound himself he would abide. He looked at her as though in very
truth he had never seen her before. And the girl took his stony look as
if he had struck her, and fell away from the door, so that they saw her
no longer.

"Looked as if she'd seen someone she knew in here," remarked Hutchins,
complacently. He was always pleased when people noticed Eliza, for he
considered her a credit to the house.

The others made no remark, and Bates felt absurdly glad that he had seen
her, not that it advanced his desire, but yet he was glad; and he had
shown her, too, that she need not fear him.

And Eliza--she went on past the door to the verandah, and stood in sight
of the boarders, who were there, in sight of the open street; but she
did not see anyone or anything. She was too common a figure at that door
to be much noticed, but if anyone had observed her it would have been