work! She even
remembered to see personally that Allan's dinner was sent up to him. The
servants had doubtless been told to come to her for orders--at any rate,
they did. Phyllis had not had much experience in running a house, but a
good deal in keeping her head. And that, after all, is the main thing.
She had a far-off feeling as if she were hearing some other young woman
giving swift, poised, executive orders. She rather admired her.

After dinner the De Guenthers went. And Phyllis Braithwaite, the little
Liberry Teacher who had been living in a hall bedroom on much less money
than she needed, found herself alone, sole mistress of the great
Harrington house, a corps of servants, a husband passive enough to
satisfy the most militant suffragette, a check-book, a wistful
wolfhound, and five hundred dollars, cash, for current expenses. The
last weighed on her mind more than all the rest put together.

"Why, I don't know how to make Current Expenses out of all that!" she
had said to Mr. De Guenther. "It looks to me exactly like about ten
months' salary! I'm perfectly certain I shall get up in my sleep and try
to pay my board ahead with it, so I shan't have it all spent before the
ten months are up! There was a blue bead necklace," she went on
meditatively, "in the Five-and-Ten, that I always wanted to buy. Only I
never quite felt I could afford it. Oh, just imagine going to the
Five-and-Ten and buying at least five dollars' worth of things you
didn't need!"

"You have great discretionary powers--great discretionary powers, my
dear, you will find!" Mr. De Guenther had said, as he patted her
shoulder. Phyllis took it as a compliment at the time. "Discretionary
powers" sounded as if he thought she was a quite intelligent young
person. It did not occur to her till he had gone, and she was alone with
her check-book, that it meant she had a good deal of liberty to do as
she liked.

It seemed to be expected of her to stay. Nobody even suggested a
possibility of her going home again, even to pack her trunk. Mrs. De
Guenther casually volunteered to do that, a little after the housekeeper
had told her where her rooms were. She had been consulting with the
housekeeper for what seemed ages, when she happened to want some pins
for something, and asked for her suit-case.

"It's in your rooms," said the housekeeper. "Mrs. Harrington--the late
Mrs. Harrington, I should say----"

Phyllis stopped listening at this point. Who was the