as a
problem; it differed from a business matter in that it could wait. As
sufficient proof of his liver having rescued him from doubts and qualms
he was able to whistle, as he dressed, and without a tremor of agitation,
the forgotten tune suggested to his consciousness during the unpleasant
reverie of the night before,--"Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage!" It was
Saturday. He ate a hearty breakfast, joked with George and Amy, and
refreshed, glowing with an expectation mingled with just the right amount
of delightful uncertainty that made the great affairs of life a gamble,
yet with the confidence of the conqueror, he walked in sunlight to the
mill. In view of this firm and hopeful tone of his being he found it all
the more surprising, as he reached the canal, to be seized by a
trepidation strong enough to bring perspiration to his forehead. What if
she had gone! He had never thought of that, and he had to admit it would
be just like her. You never could tell what she would do.

Nodding at Simmons, the watchman, he hurried up the iron-shod stairs,
gained the outer once, and instantly perceived that her chair beside the
window was empty! Caldwell and Mr. Price stood with their heads together
bending over a sheet on which Mr. Price was making calculations.

"Hasn't Miss Bumpus come yet?" Ditmar demanded. He tried to speak
naturally, casually, but his own voice sounded strange, seemed to strike
the exact note of sickening apprehension that suddenly possessed him.
Both men turned and looked at him in some surprise.

"Good-morning, Mr. Ditmar," Caldwell said. "Why, yes, she's in your
room."

"Oh!" said Ditmar.

"The Boston office has just been calling you--they want to know if you
can't take the nine twenty-two," Caldwell went on. "It's about that
lawsuit. It comes into court Monday morning, and Mr. Sprole is there, and
they say they have to see you. Miss Bumpus has the memorandum."

Ditmar looked at his watch.

"Damn it, why didn't they let me know yesterday?" he exclaimed. "I won't
see anybody, Caldwell--not even Orcutt--just now. You understand. I've
got to have a little time to do some letters. I won't be disturbed--by
any one--for half an hour."

Caldwell nodded.

"All right, Mr. Ditmar."

Ditmar went into his office, closing the door behind him. She was
occupied as usual, cutting open the letters and laying them in a pile
with the deftness and rapidity that characterized all she did.

"Janet!" he exclaimed.