artie
questioned him eagerly of his two children. Both girls, Len said
gloomily; he asked his sister if she realized that there was not a
Monroe yet.

Lydia wept a few tears; "Martie, dear, to see you in black!" and
Martie's eyes watered, and her lip shook.

"Grace and all the others would have come," Sally said quickly, "but we
knew you'd be tired, and then it's homecoming, Martie, and you'll have
lots of time to see us all!"

She introduced Elizabeth, a lovely, fly-away child with bright loose
hair, and Billy, a freckled, ordinary-looking boy, who gave his aunt a
beautiful smile from large, dark eyes. The others were left with
"Mother"--Joe's mother.

"But, Sally, you're so fat!"

"And, Mart, you're so thin!"

"Never mind; it's becoming to you, Sally. You look still like a little
girl. Really, you do! And how's Joe?"

"Oh, Joe's lovely. I went down and spent a week with him. I had the
choice of that or a spring suit, and I took that!"

"Went--but where is he? I suppose he hasn't been sent to San Quentin?"

"Oh, Martie, don't! You know Russell Harrison, 'Dutch's' cousin, that
used to play with Len, really WAS sent there!"

"For Heaven's sake, what for?"

"Well, Hugh Wilson had some trouble with Paul King, and--it was about
money--and Russell Harrison went to Hughie and told him--"

So the conversation was diverted over and over again; and the
inessential things were said, and the important ones forgotten. Len had
borrowed the firm's motor car, and they all got in. Martie, used to
Wallace's careless magnificence, was accustomed enough to this mode of
travel, but she saw that it was a cause of great excitement to the
children, and even to Sally.

"You say the 'firm,' Len--I'll never get used to my little brother with
a moustache! What do you mean by the 'firm?'" asked Martie. "My
goodness--goodness--goodness, there's the Library and Lacey's!" she
added, her eyes eagerly roving the streets.

"Miss Fanny is still there; she always speaks so affectionately of you,
Martie," said Lydia eagerly and tremulously. Martie perceived that in
some mysterious way Lydia was ill at ease. Lydia did not quite know how
to deal with a younger sister who was yet a widow, and had lived in New
York.

"There was an awful lot of talk about getting her out of the Library,"
contributed Sally; "they said the Streets were at the back of it; they
wanted to put a man in! There was the greatest excitement; we all went
down to the T