r. Beaton's she'd rattle down-stairs
fast enough. If she's sick, she's love-sick. It makes me sick to see
her."

Mela was talking to Mrs. Mandel, but her father looked up from his plate
and listened. Mela went on: "I don't know what's made the fellow quit
comun'. But he was an aggravatun' thing, and no more dependable than
water. It's just like Air. Fulkerson said, if he thinks you want him
he'll take a pleasure in not lettun' you have him. I reckon that's
what's the matter with Christine. I believe in my heart the girl 'll die
if she don't git him."

Mela went on to eat her breakfast with her own good appetite. She now
always came down to keep her father company, as she said, and she did
her best to cheer and comfort him. At least she kept the talk going, and
she had it nearly all to herself, for Mrs. Mandel was now merely staying
on provisionally, and, in the absence of any regrets or excuses from
Christine, was looking ruefully forward to the moment when she must
leave even this ungentle home for the chances of the ruder world
outside.

The old man said nothing at table, but, when Mela went up to see if she
could do anything for Christine, he asked Mrs. Mandel again about all
the facts of her last interview with Beaton.

She gave them as fully as she could remember them, and the old man made
no comment on them. But he went out directly after, and at the 'Every
Other Week' office he climbed the stairs to Fulkerson's room and asked
for Beaton's address. No one yet had taken charge of Conrad's work, and
Fulkerson was running the thing himself, as he said, till he could talk
with Dryfoos about it. The old man would not look into the empty room
where he had last seen his son alive; he turned his face away and
hurried by the door.

XIII.

The course of public events carried Beaton's private affairs beyond
the reach of his simple first intention to renounce his connection
with 'Every Other Week.' In fact, this was not perhaps so simple as
it seemed, and long before it could be put in effect it appeared still
simpler to do nothing about the matter--to remain passive and leave the
initiative to Dryfoos, to maintain the dignity of unconsciousness and
let recognition of any change in the situation come from those who had
caused the change. After all, it was rather absurd to propose making a
purely personal question the pivot on which his relations with 'Every
Other Week' turned. He took a hint from March's positio