, smiled about her sadly. Mrs. Winchell was
a plump little woman who always burst out laughing as a preliminary to
speech. Her daughter was eye-glassed, pretty, capable, a woman who
realized perfectly, at twenty-six, that she had no charm whatever for
men. She realized, too, that Mrs. Bannister, with her bronze hair and
quick speech, was full of it, and envied the younger woman in a
bloodless sort of way. Her brother, known as "Win," had already had a
definite repulse from Mrs. Bannister, and nothing was too bad for the
snubbed suitor to intimate about her in consequence. Win had never seen
"this husband of hers"; Win thought she looked "a little gay, all
right." He had a much more successful friendship with Adele, who
slapped his hand and told him he was the "limit."

To-night one of the clerks from the top floor, shaking out his napkin,
called gaily to Mrs. Bannister that this was his birthday. It was
characteristic of her kindly relationship that she came immediately to
his table. Now why hadn't he told her yesterday? He should have had a
cake, and chicken-pie, because he had once said chicken was his
favourite "insect." He was twenty-eight? He seemed such a boy!

She went back to her place, determining that she would set out a little
supper of cake and crackers and cheese for him to find when his
room-mate and he came in tired and wet from their theatre that night.
She looked at Teddy; would he keep a birthday in a boarding-house some
day with only the housekeeper to mother him?

"We're betting that you're younger than I am, Mrs. Bannister!"

"You win." She smiled at him frankly. "I'm not yet twenty-four!" Martie
was conscious of a little pang as she met his surprised almost pitying
look.

"I think that talk about ages was just a little undignified," said Edna
Winchell later that night.

"Yes, I do, too!" her mother answered quickly.

"There's something about that girl we don't understand, you bet,"
contributed the son. "When I went down for a match she was just getting
a special delivery letter, and she looked as if she was going to drop.
You mark my words--it had something to do with that mysterious husband
of hers!"

For the boarding-house had never seen Wallace, who held the whole place
in bitter scorn. He resented the fact of Martie's position there; the
fact of her having made herself useful to old Mrs. Curley represented a
difference in their point of view. When, in Teddy's first year, regular
lette