to-morrow, Edith," he said. He glanced down
at the needle in her unaccustomed fingers; she seemed very appealing,
with her new task and the new light in her eyes. After all, it was worth
while, even if it cost a lifetime, to take a soul out of purgatory.

"I had to tell mother, Willy."

"That's all right Did it cheer her any?"

"Wonderfully. She's asleep now."

He went up to his room, and for some time she heard him moving about.
Then she heard the scraping of his chair as he drew it to his desk,
and vaguely wondered. When he came down he had a sealed envelope in his
hand.

"I am going out, Edith," he said. "I shall be late getting back, and--I
am going to ask you to do something for me."

She loved doing things for him. She flushed slightly.

"If I am not back here by two o'clock to-night," he said, "I want you to
open that letter and read it. Then go to the nearest telephone, and call
up the number I've written down. Ask for the man whose name is given,
and read him the message."

"Willy!" she gasped. "You are doing something dangerous!"

"What I really expect," he said, smiling down at her, "is to be back,
feeling more or less of a fool, by eleven o'clock. I'm providing against
an emergency that will almost surely never happen, and I am depending on
the most trustworthy person I know."

Very soon after that he went away. She sat for some time after he
had gone, fingering the blank white envelope and wondering, a little
frightened but very proud of his trust.

Dan came in and went up the stairs. That reminded her of the dinner, and
she sat down in the kitchen with a pan of potatoes on her knee. As she
pared them she sang. She was still singing when Ellen came back.

Something had happened to Ellen. She stood in the kitchen, her hat still
on, drawing her cotton gloves through her fingers and staring at Edith
without seeing her.

"You're not sick, are you, Ellen?"

Ellen put down her gloves and slowly took off her hat, still with the
absorbed eyes of a sleep-walker.

"I'm not sick," she said at last. "I've had bad news."

"Sit down and I'll make you a cup of tea. Then maybe you'll feel like
talking about it."

"I don't want any tea. Do you know that that man Akers has married Lily
Cardew?"

"Married her!"

"The devil out of hell that he is." Ellen's voice was terrible. "And
all the time knowing that you--She's at home, the poor child, and
Mademoiselle just sat and cried when she told me. It's a