eing
that she was an employee of the firm--or had been lately. But close
upon that she escaped to her own room. She did not relish sitting
there discussing Mr. Andrew Bush. Hazel lacked nothing of womanly
sympathy, but he had forfeited that from her.

Nevertheless she kept thinking of him long after she went to bed. She
was not at all vindictive, and his misfortune, the fact--if the report
were true--that he was facing his end, stirred her pity. She could
guess that he would suffer more than some men; he would rebel bitterly
against anything savoring of extinction. And she reflected that his
love for her was very likely gone by the board now that he was elected
to go the way of all flesh.

The report of his injury was verified in the morning papers. By
evening it had pretty well passed out of Hazel's mind. She had more
pleasant concerns. Jack Barrow dropped in about six-thirty to ask if
she wanted to go with him to a concert during the week. They were
sitting in the parlor, by a front window, chattering to each other, but
not so engrossed that they failed to notice a carriage drawn by two
splendid grays pull up at the front gate. The footman, in brown
livery, got down and came to the door. Hazel knew the carriage. She
had seen Mr. Andrew Bush abroad in it many a time. She wondered if
there was some further annoyance in store for her, and frowned at the
prospect.

She heard Mrs. Stout answer the bell in person. There was a low mumble
of voices. Then the landlady appeared in the parlor doorway, the
footman behind her.

"This is the lady." Mrs. Stout indicated Hazel. "A message for you,
Miss Weir."

The liveried person bowed and extended an envelope. "I was instructed
to deliver this to you personally," he said, and lingered as if he
looked for further instructions.

Hazel looked at the envelope. She could not understand why, under the
circumstances, any message should come to her through such a medium.
But there was her name inscribed. She glanced up. Mrs. Stout gazed
past the footman with an air of frank anticipation. Jack also was
looking. But the landlady caught Hazel's glance and backed out the
door, and Hazel opened the letter.

The note was brief and to the point:

MISS WEIR: Mr. Bush, being seriously injured and unable to write, bids
me say that he is very anxious to see you. He sends his carriage to
convey you here. His physicians fear that he will not survive the
night, henc