oked into the face of the girl, who never did seem young and
who had aged fearfully in the last few months. "Nonsense!" he cried, and
turned away.

Philippina stamped the floor with her foot. Henry, the idiot, came out
into the hall, holding a lamp above his head.

"Does the sanctimonious clerk still live here?" asked Daniel, looking up
at the crooked old stairway, while a flood of memories came rushing over
him.

"Thank God, no!" snarled Philippina. "He'd be the last straw. I feel
sick at the stomach when I see a man."

Daniel again looked into her detestable, ugly, distorted, and wicked
face. He was accustomed to question everything, eyes and bodies, about
their existence in terms of tones, or their transformation into tones.
Here he suddenly felt the toneless; he had the feeling one might have on
looking at a deep-sea fish: it is lifeless, toneless. He thought of his
Eva; he longed for his Eva. Just then Agnes came out of the door to look
for Philippina.

He laid his hand on Agnes's hair, and said good-naturedly, looking at
Philippina: "Well, then--d-e-a-r Philippina, come back home!"

Agnes jerked herself away from him; he looked at the child amazed; he
was angry, too. Philippina folded her hands, bowed her head, and
murmured with much humility: "Very well, Daniel, we'll be back
to-morrow."

II

Philippina arrived at the front door at ten o'clock in the morning. In
one hand she carried her bundle; by the other she led Agnes, then
studying her _milieu_ with uneasy eyes.

Dorothea opened the door. She was neatly and tastefully dressed: she
wore a blue gingham dress and a white apron with a lace border. Around
her neck was a gold chain, and suspended from the chain a medallion.

"Oh, the children!" she cried cheerfully, "Philippina and Agnes. What do
you think of that! God bless you, children. You are home at last." She
wanted to hug Agnes, but the child pulled away from her as timidly as
she had pulled away from her father yesterday. In either case, she
pulled away!

Philippina screwed her mouth into a knot on hearing a woman ten years
her junior call her a child; she looked at Dorothea from head to foot.

Dorothea scarcely noticed her. "Just imagine, Philippin', the cook
didn't come to-day, so I thought I would try my own hand," said Dorothea
with glib gravity, "but I don't know, the soup meat is still as hard as
a rock. Won't you come and see what's the matter?" She