. He died on me just as I got three hundred dollars' worth of
furniture in, God rest him. I didn't know would I ever pay for it at
all, with Joe here at the breast, and Annie only walking. But I've had
good luck these seven years! You'll not find elegance, but at that
you'll never go hungry here. And you lost the child, too?--that was
hard."

"My girl would be three," Martie said wistfully. And suddenly reminded,
she thought that she would take Teddy and go to see the old Doctor and
Mrs. Converse.

That they welcomed her almost with tears of joy, and that her improved
appearance and spirits gave them genuine parental delight was only a
part of her new experience. Mrs. Converse wanted her to settle down
with Teddy in her old room. Martie would not do that; she must be near
the subway, she said, but she promised them many a Sunday dinner-hour.

"And that Mrs. Dryden got divorced, but she never married again,"
marvelled the old lady mildly.

"Oh, she didn't marry her doctor, then?"

"No, I think somebody told Doctor that she couldn't. Wasn't she just
the kind of woman who could spoil the lives of two good men? Somebody
told Doctor that the doctor was reconciled to his wife, and they went
away from New York, but I don't know."

Martie wondered. She thought that she would look up the doctor's name
in the telephone book, anyway, and perhaps chance an anonymous
telephone call. Suppose she asked for Mrs. Cooper, and Adele answered?

But before she did so, she met Adele. She had held her new position for
six weeks then, and Indian Summer was giving way to the delicious
coolness of the fall. Martie was in a department store, Teddy beside
her, when a woman came smiling up to her, and laid a hand on her arm.
She recognized a changed Adele. The beauty was not gone, but it seemed
to have faded and shrunk upon itself; Adele's bright eyes were ringed
with lead, the old coquetry of manner was almost shocking.

"Martie," said Adele, "this is my sister, Mrs. Baker."

Mrs. Baker, a big wholesome woman, who looked, Martie thought, as if
she might have a delicate daughter, married young, and a husband
prominent in the Eastern Star, and be herself a clever bridge player,
and a most successful hostess and guest at women's hilarious
lunch-eons, looked at the stranger truculently. She was a tightly
corseted woman, with prominent teeth, and a good-natured smile. Martie
felt sure that she always had good clothes, and wore white shoes in