ice will
never wilfully go unanswered so long as the element of chance lies
concealed within it.

Mrs. Emma McChesney heard the call of her telephone across the
hall. Seated in the office of her business partner, T.A. Buck, she
was fathoms deep in discussion of the T.A. Buck Featherloom
Petticoat Company's new spring line. The buzzer's insistent
voice brought her to her feet, even while she frowned at the
interruption.

"That'll be Baumgartner 'phoning about those silk swatches. Back
in a minute," said Emma McChesney and hurried across the hall just
in time to break the second call.

The perfunctory "Hello! Yes" was followed by a swift change of
countenance, a surprised little cry, then,--in quite another
tone--"Oh, it's you, Jock! I wasn't expecting ... No, not too
busy to talk to you, you young chump! Go on." A moment of silence,
while Mrs. McChesney's face smiled and glowed like a girl's as she
listened to the voice of her son. Then suddenly glow and smile
faded. She grew tense. Her head, that had been leaning so
carelessly on the hand that held the receiver, came up with a
jerk. "Jock McChesney!" she gasped, "you--why, you don't mean!--"

Now, Emma McChesney was not a woman given to jerky conversations,
interspersed with exclamation points. Her poise and balance had
become a proverb in the business world. Yet her lips were
trembling now. Her eyes were very round and bright. Her face had
flushed, then grown white. Her voice shook a little. "Yes, of
course I am. Only, I'm so surprised. Yes, I'll be home early.
Five-thirty at the latest."

She hung up the receiver with a little fumbling gesture. Her hand
dropped to her lap, then came up to her throat a moment, dropped
again. She sat staring straight ahead with eyes that saw one
thousand miles away.

From his office across the hall T.A. Buck strolled in casually.

"Did Baumgartner say he'd--?" He stopped as Mrs. McChesney looked
up at him. A quick step forward--"What's the matter, Emma?"

"Jock--Jock--"

"Jock! What's happened to the boy?" Then, as she still stared at
him, her face pitiful, his hand patted her shoulder. "Dear girl,
tell me." He bent over her, all solicitude.

"Don't!" said Emma McChesney faintly, and shook off his hand.
"Your stenographer can see--What will the office think? Please--"

"Oh, darn the stenographer! What's this bad news of Jock?"

Emma McChesney sat up. She smiled a little nervously and passed
her handkerchief across her