ss; his comfortable car; Johnny Rosenfeld's
discreet back and alert ears.

The adventure had all the thrill of a new conquest in it. He treated the
girl with deference, did not insist when she refused a cigarette, felt
glowingly virtuous and exultant at the same time.

When the car drew up before the Schwitter place, he slipped a
five-dollar bill into Johnny Rosenfeld's not over-clean hand.

"I don't mind the ears," he said. "Just watch your tongue, lad." And
Johnny stalled his engine in sheer surprise.

"There's just enough of the Jew in me," said Johnny, "to know how to
talk a lot and say nothing, Mr. Howe."

He crawled stiffly out of the car and prepared to crank it.

"I'll just give her the 'once over' now and then," he said. "She'll
freeze solid if I let her stand."

Grace had gone up the narrow path to the house. She had the gift of
looking well in her clothes, and her small hat with its long quill
and her motor-coat were chic and becoming. She never overdressed, as
Christine was inclined to do.

Fortunately for Palmer, Tillie did not see him. A heavy German maid
waited at the table in the dining-room, while Tillie baked waffles in
the kitchen.

Johnny Rosenfeld, going around the side path to the kitchen door with
visions of hot coffee and a country supper for his frozen stomach, saw
her through the window bending flushed over the stove, and hesitated.
Then, without a word, he tiptoed back to the car again, and, crawling
into the tonneau, covered himself with rugs. In his untutored mind were
certain great qualities, and loyalty to his employer was one. The five
dollars in his pocket had nothing whatever to do with it.

At eighteen he had developed a philosophy of four words. It took the
place of the Golden Rule, the Ten Commandments, and the Catechism. It
was: "Mind your own business."

The discovery of Tillie's hiding-place interested but did not thrill
him. Tillie was his cousin. If she wanted to do the sort of thing she
was doing, that was her affair. Tillie and her middle-aged lover, Palmer
Howe and Grace--the alley was not unfamiliar with such relationships. It
viewed them with tolerance until they were found out, when it raised its
hands.

True to his promise, Palmer wakened the sleeping boy before nine
o'clock. Grace had eaten little and drunk nothing; but Howe was slightly
stimulated.

"Give her the 'once over,'" he told Johnny, "and then go back and crawl
into the rugs again. I'll drive i