from it. So good-bye!"

"At least," he returned, huskily, "we'll only--only say good-night."

Then, as moving to go, he stumbled upon the veranda steps, "Your HAT!"
she cried. "I'd like to keep it for a souvenir, but I'm afraid you need
it!"

She ran into the hall and brought his straw hat from the chair where he
had left it. "You poor thing!" she said, with quavering laughter. "Don't
you know you can't go without your hat?"

Then, as they faced each other for the short moment which both of them
knew would be the last of all their veranda moments, Alice's broken
laughter grew louder. "What a thing to say!" she cried. "What a romantic
parting--talking about HATS!"

Her laughter continued as he turned away, but other sounds came from
within the house, clearly audible with the opening of a door upstairs--a
long and wailing cry of lamentation in the voice of Mrs. Adams. Russell
paused at the steps, uncertain, but Alice waved to him to go on.

"Oh, don't bother," she said. "We have lots of that in this funny little
old house! Good-bye!"

And as he went down the steps, she ran back into the house and closed
the door heavily behind her.

CHAPTER XXIII

Her mother's wailing could still be heard from overhead, though more
faintly; and old Charley Lohr was coming down the stairs alone.

He looked at Alice compassionately. "I was just comin' to suggest maybe
you'd excuse yourself from your company," he said. "Your mother was
bound not to disturb you, and tried her best to keep you from hearin'
how she's takin' on, but I thought probably you better see to her."

"Yes, I'll come. What's the matter?"

"Well," he said, "_I_ only stepped over to offer my sympathy and
services, as it were. _I_ thought of course you folks knew all about it.
Fact is, it was in the evening paper--just a little bit of an item on
the back page, of course."

"What is it?"

He coughed. "Well, it ain't anything so terrible," he said. "Fact is,
your brother Walter's got in a little trouble--well, I suppose you might
call it quite a good deal of trouble. Fact is, he's quite considerable
short in his accounts down at Lamb and Company."

Alice ran up the stairs and into her father's room, where Mrs. Adams
threw herself into her daughter's arms. "Is he gone?" she sobbed. "He
didn't hear me, did he? I tried so hard----"

Alice patted the heaving shoulders her arms enclosed. "No, no," she
said. "He didn't hear you--it wouldn't have mattered--h