ind it and
he explained, she didn't believe him. I don't know as anybody believed
him but me, but it seemed such a silly explanation for a sensible man
to make up that I felt pretty sure it must be true."

Miss Randolph put down her pen and gave herself up to the business of
listening.

"If I could tell you how that little woman looked," declared Persis,
"it would just make your heart jump to think it was you that helped
her. Only six months married, she was, too. Well, I took a risk and
wrote to Mr. Thompson, Cleveland, and when I got his letter I knew
everything was all right. But I wasn't sure of proving it to young
Mrs. Thompson. After a woman's brooded over a thing as long as she
had, with her neighbors egging her on to do something desperate, she's
not going to be convinced with anything short of downright proof. But
between your letter and Mr. Wash--"

"I don't see," interrupted Miss Randolph quickly, "that she has
anything to thank me for. You certainly deserve all the credit, Miss
Dale, for clearing up the mystery."

"Well, they were grateful all right," Persis smiled reminiscently.
"The baby's six weeks old now, and her name is Persis Dale Thompson.
And they're both about as happy as any folks you're likely to see till
you die and go to Heaven. But I couldn't have done anything without
your help, and I wish I thought you was half as contented as I know
they are."

"Really," said Miss Randolph, with an unsuccessful attempt to duplicate
her earlier reserve, "it is impossible for me to see--"

"Yes, I know." Persis leaned toward her, speaking with a vehemence
that swept the feeble expostulation aside. "But just because I never
set eyes on you before ain't any reason why I shouldn't want you to be
happy. I've laid awake nights thinking about that letter of yours, so
loving and so sorrowful. Dearie, if love pulls you one way and
conscience the other, there's only one thing to do and that's the right
thing."

"Really," began Miss Randolph, and then her eyes unexpectedly filled,
quenching the incipient fire of her indignation. She had recourse to
her handkerchief and Persis patted her shoulder, and in that instant
the two were friends.

"You don't quite understand," explained Enid in a muffled voice.
"'Tommy' isn't married. 'Her' is auntie."

Persis drew a sigh of such unmistakable relief that the girl looked at
her amazed. The older woman's face was shining.

"Well, that's a weight off m