aturally.

She did not mind that it took her many seconds to find the exact amount
and then a lavish tip for her driver, and she noted with satisfaction
that the faithful Mabel had seen her from an upper window and would
spread the glad tidings.

Mrs. Hetty Hills, a little stouter and grayer and more prosperous than
she had been four years earlier, stood in the doorway. "Well, now, I
_am_ glad!" she declared. "I'm free to say I thought it was a risk, your
traipsing round Mexico with all those revolutions and epidemics and
things! My, but you look fine, child! I believe my soul it's done you a
world of good! 'Praise to the face is open disgrace,' but you don't look
a day over eighteen and I'd swear it on a stack of Bibles!"

"_Nice_ Mrs. Hills," said her star boarder, hugging her heartily. "How
are you? And how is everybody?"

"Well, I'm pretty good now," said the ex-villager, earnestly, "but you
can tell your folks I was miserable enough a week ago yesterday. I guess
if I was the give-up kind I'd have been flat on my back. I don't know
when I've ever had such a spell. My throat ached and I could hardly drag
one foot after another, and even my eyeballs----"

"But you're fine now, aren't you? I'm so glad! I'm sure you'd been
overdoing. And how is--how are all the others?"

"Oh ... about the same. Mrs. Ramsey doesn't get out to her concerts any
more, on account of her leg, and that makes her bluer'n a whetstone, but
otherwise I guess we're all pretty much of a muchness. Everybody
misses--land t' goodness," she caught herself up, "I guess there _is_
one piece of news! I guess there _is_ one change, sure enough!"

"What?" asked Jane, sitting down suddenly on one of the stiff hall
chairs.

"Why, Mr. Daragh! He's gone home to Ireland!"

("You've got to say something! You've got to make a remark!") Jane told
herself, fiercely, but it seemed a fearful pause before she heard her
voice and it sounded thin and queer. "Oh, is that so? Has he?"

"Yes, went off like a shot! Got a cable from some of his folks. All he
said was he was called home. Awful close-mouthed for an Irishman. All the
Irish _I_ ever knew before--I think he gave Mabel a note to put in your
room. Want I should send her up for it?" asked the landlady eagerly.

"No, thanks," said Jane, very creditably. "There isn't any hurry. And how
is Emma Ellis, Mrs. Hills?" She sat chatting for ten minutes by her wrist
watch and then took her leisurely way upstairs and