tion.

"You've got your nerve," she said. "I wonder he didn't kill you. What's
yours is his and what's his is his own!"

But Anna could not leave that morning. She lay in her bed, cold
compresses on her swollen face and shoulders, a bruised and broken
thing, planning hideous reprisals. Herman made no inquiry for her. He
went stolidly about the day's work, carried in firewood and coal from
the shed, inspected the garden with a view to early planting, and ate
hugely of the mid-day dinner.

In the afternoon Rudolph came.

"Where's Anna?" he asked briskly.

"She is in her room. She is not well."

If Rudolph suspected anything, it was only that Anna was sulking. But
later on he had reason to believe that there trouble. Out of a clear sky
Herman said:

"She has had a raise." Anna was "she" to him.

"Since when?" Rudolph asked with interest.

"I know nothing. She has not given it to me. She has been buying herself
a watch."

"So!" Rudolph's tone was wary.

"She will buy herself no more watches," said Herman, with an air of
finality.

Rudolph hesitated. The organization wanted Herman; he had had great
influence with the millworkers. Through him many things would be
possible. The Spencers trusted him, too. At any time Rudolph knew they
would be glad to reinstate him, and once inside the plant, there was no
limit to the mischief he could do. But Herman was too valuable to risk.
Suppose he was told now about Graham Spencer and Anna, and beat the girl
and was jailed for it? Besides, ugly as Rudolph's suspicions were, they
were as yet only suspicions. He decided to wait until he could bring
Herman proof of Graham Spencer's relations with Anna. When that time
came he knew Herman. He would be clay for the potter. He, Rudolph,
intended to be the potter.

Katie had an afternoon off that Sunday. When she came back that night,
Herman, weary from the late hours of Saturday, was already snoring in
his bed. Anna met Katie at her door and drew her in.

"I've found a nice room," Katie whispered. "Here's the address written
down. The street cars go past it. Three dollars a week. Are you ready?"

Anna was ready, even to her hat. Over it she placed a dark veil, for
she was badly disfigured. Then, with Katie crying quietly, she left the
house. In the flare from the Spencer furnaces Katie watched until the
girl reappeared on the twisting street below which still followed the
old path--that path where Herman, years ago, had climb