length in his
note-book. I didn't need a mind-reader to tell me he was figuring the
cost of a new hardwood floor and four new rugs.

Mr. Sam came to the news stand, and he was so nervous he could hardly
light a cigarette.

"I've had a message from one of the detectives," he said. "They've
traced him to Salem, Ohio, but they lost him there. If we can only hold
on this evening--! Look at that first-night audience!"

"Mr. Pierce is due in three minutes," I told him. "I hope you told him
to kiss his sister."

"Nothing of the sort," he objected. "Why should he kiss her? Mrs. Van
Alstyne is afraid of the whole thing: she won't stand for that."

"I guess she could endure it," I remarked dryly.

"It's astonishing how much of that sort of thing a woman can bear."

He looked at me and grinned.

"By gad," he said, "I wouldn't be as sophisticated as you are for a good
deal. Isn't that the sleigh?"

Everybody had heard it. The women sat up and craned forward to look at
the door: Mrs. Sam was sitting forward clutching the arms of her chair.
She was in white, having laid off her black for that evening, with a red
rose pinned on her so Mr. Pierce would know her. Miss Patty heard the
sleigh-bells also, and she turned and came toward the door. Her mouth
was set hard, and she was twisting the ruby ring as she always did when
she was nervous. And at the same moment Mr. Sam and I both saw it; she
was in white, too, and she had a red rose tucked in her belt!

Mr. Sam muttered something and rushed at her, but he was too late. Just
as he got to her the door opened and in came Mr. Pierce, with Mr. Sam's
fur coat turned up around his ears and Mr. Sam's fur cap drawn well down
on his head. He stood for an instant blinking in the light, and Mrs.
Van Alstyne got up nervously. He never even saw her. His eyes lighted on
Miss Patty's face and stayed there. Mr. Sam was there, but what could
he do? Mr. Pierce walked over to Miss Patty, took her hand, said, "Hello
there!" and KISSED HER. It was awful.

Most women will do anything to save a scene, and that helped us, for
she never turned a hair. But when Mr. Sam got him by the arm and led him
toward the stairs, she turned so that the old cats sitting around
could not see her and her face was scarlet. She went over to the wood
fire--our lobby is a sort of big room with chairs and tables and palms,
and an open fire in winter--and sat down. I don't think she knew herself
whether she was most ast