Pitman's, although Mr. Harry Lauder's in a
phonograph resembles it. And voices have always done for me what odors
do for some people, revived forgotten scenes and old memories. But the
memory that the voice at the head of the stairs brought back was not
very old, although I had forgotten it. I seemed to hear again, all at
once, the lapping of the water Sunday morning as it began to come in
over the door-sill; the sound of Terry ripping up the parlor carpet,
and Mrs. Ladley calling me a she-devil in the next room, in reply to
this very voice.

But when I got to the top of the stairs, it was only Mr. Howell, who
had brought his visitor to the flood district, and on getting her
splashed with the muddy water, had taken her to my house for a towel
and a cake of soap.

I lighted the lamp in the hall, and Mr. Howell introduced the girl.
She was a pretty girl, slim and young, and she had taken her wetting
good-naturedly.

"I know we are intruders, Mrs. Pitman," she said, holding out her
hand. "Especially now, when you are in trouble."

"I have told Miss Harvey a little," Mr. Howell said, "and I promised
to show her Peter, but he is not here."

I think I had known it was my sister's child from the moment I lighted
the lamp. There was something of Alma in her, not Alma's hardness or
haughtiness, but Alma's dark blue eyes with black lashes, and Alma's
nose. Alma was always the beauty of the family. What with the day's
excitement, and seeing Alma's child like this, in my house, I felt
things going round and clutched at the stair-rail. Mr. Howell caught
me.

"Why, Mrs. Pitman!" he said. "What's the matter?"

I got myself in hand in a moment and smiled at the girl.

"Nothing at all," I said. "Indigestion, most likely. Too much tea the
last day or two, and not enough solid food. I've been too anxious to
eat."

Lida--for she was that to me at once, although I had never seen her
before--Lida was all sympathy and sweetness. She actually asked me to
go with her to a restaurant and have a real dinner. I could imagine
Alma, had she known! But I excused myself.

"I have to cook something for Mr. Reynolds," I said, "and I'm better
now, anyhow, thank you. Mr. Howell, may I speak to you for a moment?"

He followed me along the back hall, which was dusk.

"I have remembered something that I had forgotten, Mr. Howell," I
said. "On Sunday morning, the Ladleys had a visitor."

"Yes?"

"They had very few visitors."

"I see."