her home in a cab.
I had to see you. We'll eat--play; and then, my precious one, we'll talk
business."

"How I have wanted you! needed you!" Again the pitiful wail.

"Now behave, child! When the waiter comes we must be as staid as Darby
and Joan. You poor little girl! Heavens! how big your eyes are, and how
frightened! Come in! Yes. This is the order; serve it here."

The waiter took the order wrapped in a good-sized bill, and departed on
willing feet.

"Your hair is about all that's familiar; longing for me couldn't take the
shine from that!" Travers kissed it.

"I see my next case," he laughed. "To get you in shape will be quite an
achievement. We both need--play. We thrive on that."

"Yes, my dear, my dear; but I have forgotten how!"

"Nonsense! Here's the food. Put the table near the grate"--this to the
man--"things smoking hot; that's good. The wine, please. Thanks! Miss
Glynn, to your health!"

How Travers managed it no one could tell, but his own unfettered joy
drove doubt and care from the little room. Priscilla, warmed and
comforted, laughed and responded, and the meal was a merry one. But it
was over at last, and the grim spectre stalked once more. Travers noticed
the haunted look in the eyes following his every movement, and took
warning. Something was seriously wrong, that was evident; but he had
boundless faith in his love and power to drive the cloud away. After the
room was cleared of dishes and the grateful waiter, Travers attacked the
shadow at once.

He drew a stool to Priscilla's chair and flung his long body beside her.

"Now," he said, with wonderful tenderness, "let me begin my life work at
once, my darling. You are troubled; I am here to bear it all--for you!"

"Oh! Will you bear--half, dear heart?"

"Yes, and that is better. We need not waste words, my tired little girl.
Out with the worst and then--you and I are going to--my mother!"

"Your--mother?"

"My mother! God bless her! You know she came near slipping away. She will
need and love you more than ever."

"Oh! how good it sounds! Mother! Oh, my love, my love! I've had so little
and I've wanted so much! Your mother!"

"She'll be yours, too, Priscilla. But hurry, child! Just the bare
structure; my love will fill in the rest."

"Do not look up at me, dear man! So, let me rest my face on your head.
Can you hear me--if I whisper?"

"Yes."

"It's about Margaret--Margaret Moffatt."

"The All Woman, the happiest creature, n