On, on through the night roared the big car, with Garth bending low over
the wheel in front, while, in the back-seat Molly huddled forlornly into
the curve of Sara's arm.

A few questions had elicited the whole foolish story of Lester Kent's
infatuation, and of the steps he had taken to enmesh poor simple-hearted
Molly in the toils--first, by lending her money, then, when he found
that the loan had scared her, by buying her pictures and surrounding
her with an atmosphere of adulation which momentarily blinded her from
forming any genuine estimate either of the value of his criticism or of
the sincerity of his desire to purchase.

Once the head resting against Sara's shoulder was lifted, and a
wistfully incredulous voice asked, very low--

"You are sure he is married, Sara,--_quite sure_?"

"Quite sure, Molly," came the answer.

And later, as they were nearing home, Molly's hardly-bought philosophy
of life revealed itself in the brief comment: "It's very easy to make a
fool of oneself."

"Probably Mr. Kent has found that out--by this time," replied Sara with
a grim flash of humour.

A faint, involuntary chuckle in response premised that ultimately Molly
might be able to take a less despondent view of the night's proceedings.

It was between two and three in the morning when at length the travelers
climbed stiffly out of the car at the gateway of Sunnyside and made
their way up the little tiled path that led to the front door. The
latter opened noiselessly at their approach and Jane, who had evidently
been watching for them, stood on the threshold.

Her small, beady eyes were red-rimmed with sleeplessness--and with the
slow, difficult tears that now and again had overflowed as hour after
hour crawled by, bringing no sign of the wanderers' return--and the
shadows of fatigue that had hollowed her weather-beaten cheeks wrung
a sympathetic pang from Sara's heart as she realized what those long,
inactive hours of helpless anxiety must have meant to the faithful soul.

Jane's glance flew to the drooping, willowy figure clinging to Garth's
arm.

"My lamb! . . . Oh! Miss Molly dear, they've brought 'ee back!"
Impulsively she caught hold of Garth's coat-sleeve. "Thank God you've
brought them back, sir, and now there's none as need ever know aught but
that they've been in their beds all the blessed night!" Her lips were
shaking, drawn down at the corners like those of a distressed child, but
her harsh old voice qui