conflict,
conspicuous, formidable, set the battle in a rage around him, and
exulted like a champion in the shoutings of the captains.

They were not long at table, and by the time they were ready to depart
it was about half-past five. But when they emerged into the street, it
was discovered that once more the weather had abruptly changed. It was
snowing thickly. Again a bitter wind from off the Lake tore through the
streets. The slush and melted snow was freezing, and the north side of
every lamp post and telegraph pole was sheeted with ice.

To add to their discomfort, the North State Street cars were blocked.
When they gained the corner of Washington Street they could see where
the congestion began, a few squares distant.

"There's nothing for it," declared Landry, "but to go over and get the
Clarke Street cars--and at that you may have to stand up all the way
home, at this time of day."

They paused, irresolute, a moment on the corner. It was the centre of
the retail quarter. Close at hand a vast dry goods house, built in the
old "iron-front" style, towered from the pavement, and through its
hundreds of windows presented to view a world of stuffs and fabrics,
upholsteries and textiles, kaleidoscopic, gleaming in the fierce
brilliance of a multitude of lights. From each street doorway was
pouring an army of "shoppers," women for the most part; and
these--since the store catered to a rich clientele--fashionably
dressed. Many of them stood for a moment on the threshold of the
storm-doorways, turning up the collars of their sealskins, settling
their hands in their muffs, and searching the street for their coupes
and carriages.

Among the number of those thus engaged, one, suddenly catching sight of
Laura, waved a muff in her direction, then came quickly forward. It was
Mrs. Cressler.

"Laura, my dearest girl! Of all the people. I am so glad to see you!"
She kissed Laura on the cheek, shook hands all around, and asked about
the sisters' new home. Did they want anything, or was there anything
she could do to help? Then interrupting herself, and laying a glove on
Laura's arm:

"I've got more to tell you."

She compressed her lips and stood off from Laura, fixing her with a
significant glance.

"Me? To tell me?"

"Where are you going now?"

"Home; but our cars are stopped. We must go over to--"

"Fiddlesticks! You and Page and Mrs. Wessels--all of you are coming
home and dine with me."

"But we've had din