les from foundry,
factory, and mill on the wide-spreading west side. Toil-worn men by
thousands were laying down their tools and turning eagerly, wearily
homeward. The gongs of the cable-cars hammered mad alarums, and swarms
of people squeezed upon the platforms. In adjacent office blocks the
electric lights were beginning to gleam, and the pallid hues of dying
day were fading from the wintry sky. Forrest's business was done, and he
had no excuse to linger. She stood there facing him, evidently expecting
him to go. Never before in his life had he encountered anything of this
description. He had read and heard that many a girl delicately reared
was now employed as book-keeper, typewriter, and stenographer, in
offices all over the land, and here was one, plainly--even poorly--clad,
yet proud, independent, self-reliant, and in every word and look and
act, no matter how humble her lot, as unmistakably a "lady" as his own
sister. He wanted to stay, wanted to impress upon her his appreciation
of the service she had done him, wanted to persuade her to accept what
he felt she sorely needed,--the remaining ten dollars of the sum
Langston had told him would be about what she would probably
charge,--but, after a moment's irresolute pause, he turned abruptly and
went to the door.

"I shall be back in a month with more such work, and I shall be
fortunate if I can get you to do it for me. Good-night, Miss Wallen,
and--thank you."

"Good-night, sir, and thank you."

Forrest went discontentedly over to the Union League. He felt somehow
that he hadn't treated that girl right. One or two men from the fort
were there,--Waring of the light battery and little "Chip" Sanders of
the cavalry. These jovial captains hailed him and besought him in
cordial soldier fashion to stay and dine, especially in view of the long
trip ahead of him on the morrow, but he begged off. He had an evening's
work ahead, and must get home betimes, said he. He compromised, however,
on a modest tipple, and, not caring to fight his way through the crowd
in either car or street, summoned a cab and was soon comfortably
trundling to the north side. One block beyond the river, under the
electric lights, he caught sight of a slender, girlish form, swiftly
threading a way along the pavement, and recognized at a glance the
heroine of the adventure of a fortnight gone, the transcriber of those
fruitful pages on the seat by his side, and the object of his thoughts.

"Hold