"I don't know what's got into Pa!" his wife complained.

"Don't you care, Uncle Chess," Marguerite submitted with timid sympathy.

"Oh, no, sure I don't care," the man said with a short laugh. "Of course
it's nothing to me! A man comes home to his own folks, he's had a tough
time--" His voice sank huskily. The sleeves of his coat were too short
for him, and Julia noticed how thin his wrists were, as he gathered up
his newspaper clippings and restored them to his inside pocket. The
women watched him in silence. Presently he stooped down and kissed his
mother's forehead, at the edge of her untidy, grizzled hair.

"Good-bye, Ma!" he said. "Good-bye, girls!"

"It'll be a judgment on your father," Mrs. Cox protested. "I don't know
what's gotten into him!"

But she made no further objection; she did not get up from her place at
table when Chester crossed the kitchen, opened the street door, and went
out.

"Grandpa's a prince, all right!" said Marguerite then, and Evelyn added,
"Wouldn't it give you a pain?"

"But I notice that none of us did anything about it!" Julia said
bitterly.

"If your grandpa found Chess here when he got home to-night, there'd be
a reckoning!" the old woman asserted dully.

"And what is Uncle Chess supposed to do?" Julia demanded.

"I betcher he kills himself," Evelyn submitted.

"I betcher he does," her sister agreed.

"Well, it'll be on your grandfather's head!" the old woman said. She
began to cry, still drinking her tea.

"I wonder if he has any money?" speculated Julia.

"Where'd he get money?" Evelyn said. Julia, following an uncomfortable
impulse, went to the window in the close little parlour and looked out
into the street. It was about six o'clock, and still broad day. The wind
had died down, but the street was dirty, and the glaring light of the
sinking sun fell full on the faces of the home-going stream of men and
women. Julia's quick eye found Chester instantly. He had loitered no
farther than the corner, a hundred feet away, and was standing there,
irresolute, stooped, still wearing his look of vague bewilderment.

The girl ran upstairs, and snatched her hat and a light coat. Two
minutes later she was downstairs again, the chatelaine bag in which all
girls carried their money in those days jumping at her belt.

But in those two minutes Chester had disappeared. Julia felt sick with
disappointment as she reached the corner only to find him gone. She
stood looking quickly