ssession of this child by Edith. It must be got out of the way. If it
will not starve, it must drown."

Mrs. Dinneford's face was distorted by the strength of her evil
passions. Her eyes were full of fire, flashing now, and now glaring like
those of a wild animal.

"It might fall out of a window," said Mrs. Hoyt, in a low, even voice,
and with a faint smile on her lips. "Children fall out of windows
sometimes."

"But don't always get killed," answered Mrs. Dinneford, coldly.

"Or, it might drop from somebody's arms into the river--off the deck of
a ferryboat, I mean," added Mrs. Hoyt.

"That's better. But I don't care how it's done, so it's done."

"Accidents are safer," said Mrs. Hoyt.

"I guess you're right about that. Let it be an accident, then."

It was half an hour from the time Mrs. Dinneford entered this house
before she came away. As she passed from the door, closely veiled, a
gentleman whom she knew very well was going by on the opposite side
of the street. From something in his manner she felt sure that he
had recognized her, and that the recognition had caused him no little
surprise. Looking back two or three times as she hurried homeward, she
saw, to her consternation, that he was following her, evidently with the
purpose of making sure of her identity.

To throw this man off of her track was Mrs. Dinneford's next concern.
This she did by taking a street-car that was going in a direction
opposite to the part of the town in which she lived, and riding for
a distance of over a mile. An hour afterward she came back to her own
neighborhood, but not without a feeling of uneasiness. Just as she
was passing up to the door of her residence a gentleman came hurriedly
around the nearest corner. She recognized him at a glance. It seemed as
if the servant would never answer her ring. On he came, until the sound
of his steps was in her ears. He was scarcely ten paces distant when the
door opened and she passed in. When she gained her room, she sat down
faint and trembling. Here was a new element in the danger and disgrace
that were digging her steps so closely.

As we have seen, Edith did not make her appearance at the mission
sewing-school on the following Thursday, nor did she go there for many
weeks afterward. The wild hope that had taken her to Briar street, the
nervous strain and agitation attendant on that visit, and the reaction
occasioned by her father's failure to get possession of the baby, were
to