there while her uncles
went home for supper. Neither Mr. Hamilton nor the Captain would
consent, so she was obliged to go to the house herself and send Isaiah
up once more to act as shopkeeper. But at eleven that night, after
unmistakable sounds from their rooms were furnishing proofs that both
partners of Hamilton and Company were asleep, she tiptoed downstairs,
put on her coat and hat, took the store keys from the nail where Zoeth
always hung them, and went out. She did not return until almost three.

The next day she spent, for the most part, at the store. She wrote
several letters and, in spite of her uncles' protests, waited upon
several customers. That evening, as she sat behind the counter thinking,
a boy whom Captain Shadrach identified as Zenas Atkins' young-one rushed
breathlessly into the store to announce between gasps that "Mary-'Gusta
Lathrop's wanted on the phone. It's long distance, too, and--and--you've
got to scrabble 'cause they're holdin' the wire." Mary hurried out and
to the telephone office. She had not answered Shadrach's question as
to who she thought was calling. She did not know, of course, but she
suspected, and for a cool-headed young business woman, a girl who had
ruthlessly driven all thoughts except those of business from her mind,
her heart beat surprisingly fast as she entered the closet which acted
as a substitute for a telephone booth, and took down the receiver. Yet
her tone was calm enough as she uttered the stereotyped "Hello."

The wire hummed and sang, fragments of distant conversation became
audible and were lost, and then a voice, the voice which she was
expecting but, in a way, dreading to hear, asked: "Hello! Is this Miss
Lathrop?"

"Yes, Crawford."

"Mary, is that you?"

"Yes."

"I have just called at Mrs. Wyeth's and learned that you had gone. I
am awfully disappointed. I leave for home tomorrow and I had counted on
seeing you before I went. Why did you go without a word to me?"

"Didn't Mrs. Wyeth tell you?"

"She told me a good deal, but I want to know more. Is it true--that
about your uncles?"

"I am afraid it is."

"Great Scott, that's too bad! I am mighty sorry to hear it. Look here,
isn't there something I can do? Do they need--"

"Sshh! we mustn't talk about it over the phone. No, there is nothing you
can do. I have some plans partially worked out; something may come of
them. Please don't ask more particulars now."

"All right, I understand; I won't.