he door, but the thin
horse drooped disconsolately between the shafts, as if he too knew that
he was not there for long.

Horatio was not in the office. Snowden stood beside the bookkeeper,
looking over a ledger. As Milly opened the door both he and the
bookkeeper looked up. Milly recognized the hatchet-faced woman of
uncertain age, with the forbidding stare through her large spectacles.
This time when Milly came forward with a pleasant smile and "Miss
Simpson, how are you?" the stony face did not relax a muscle. Miss
Simpson looked her employer's daughter over as if she were about to
accuse her of being the cause for the firm's disaster. "Mr. Snowden,"
Milly continued, ignoring the woman's hostility, "I came for my
father.... How are you and Mrs. Snowden?"

"Your father's gone," the bookkeeper snapped with an unpleasant smile.
She eyed Milly's fashionable attire unsympathetically. It was the second
time that afternoon that Milly was made to feel apologetic for her good
clothes.

"Oh," she said hesitantly.

"Anything I can do for you, Miss Ridge?" Snowden asked, glancing down at
the ledger indifferently.

Milly had an inspiration.

"Why, yes, Mr. Snowden," she exclaimed pleasantly. "I should like to
talk with you a few moments, if I am not interrupting your work," she
added, for Snowden made no move.

"Well?" he said gruffly.

Milly turned towards the rear of the loft where there were a number of
little tables dotted with unwashed china cups, and grains of tea and
coffee. Snowden followed her slowly, and leaned against a table.

"What is it?"

"Mr. Snowden," Milly began gently, "you are my father's oldest friend in
the city."

"Guess I know that."

"He's very unhappy."

"Has good reason to be."

She made the direct appeal.

"Why do you do this thing, Mr. Snowden? Why do you want to ruin my
father--your old friend?"

"Guess you don't understand--he's pretty nearly ruined _me_!" Snowden
emitted with a snort.

"Yes, I understand," Milly replied glibly. "Business had been very bad.
My friends tell me all business has been dreadful since the
Fair--everybody feels poor. But why make things worse? A little time,
and it will be different."

She smiled at him persuasively.

"I want to save my own skin, what there is left to save," he grumbled.
"Your father's made a pretty bad mess of things, Milly."

"We won't discuss what my father has done," Milly retorted with dignity.
"He's been deceived--he's t