s her
best friend, and that what she was asking was merely a matter of
business--the sort of thing that Mr. Pantin was doing every day. Her
heart beat ridiculously and she was rather shocked to hear herself
laughing shrilly at Mr. Pantin's banal inquiry as to whether she had not
"nearly blown off." He added in some haste:

"Priscilla's in the kitchen."

Mrs. Pantin looked up in surprise at her caller's entrance.

"How perfectly sweet of you to come out a day like this!" she chirped.
"You'll excuse me if I go on getting dinner? We only have two meals a
day when we don't exercise. This wind--isn't it dreadful? I haven't been
out of the house for a week."

She placed two rolls in the warming oven and broke three eggs into a
bowl.

"Abram and I are so fond of omelette," she said, as the egg-beater
whirred. "Tell me," she beamed brightly upon Mrs. Toomey, "what have you
been doing with yourself?"

"Priscilla--Prissy--" Mrs. Toomey caught her breath--"I've been
miserable--and that's the truth!"

"Why, my dear!" The egg-beater stopped. "Aren't you well? No wonder--I'm
as nervous as a witch myself." The egg-beater whirred again
encouragingly. "You must use your will power--you mustn't allow yourself
to be affected by these external things."

"It's not the wind." Mrs. Toomey's eyes were swimming now. "I'm worried
half to death."

Mrs. Pantin had not lived twelve years with Abram in vain. A look of
suspicion crossed her face, and there was a little less solicitude in
her voice as she inquired:

"Is it anything in particular? Bad news from home?"

"It's money!" Mrs. Toomey blurted out. "We're dreadfully hard up. I came
to see if we could get a loan."

The egg-beater went on, but the milk of human kindness which,
presumably, flowed in Mrs. Pantin's breast stopped--congealed--froze up
tight. Her blue eyes, whose vividness was accentuated as usual by the
robin's egg blue dress she wore, had the warm genial glow radiating from
a polar berg. It was, however, only a moment before she recovered
herself and was able to say with sweet earnestness:

"I haven't anything to do with that, my dear. You'll have to see Mr.
Pantin."

Mrs. Toomey clasped her fingers tightly together and stammered:

"If--if you would speak to him first--I--I thought perhaps--"

Mrs. Pantin's set society smile was on her small mouth, but the finality
of the laws of the Medes and the Persians was in her tone as she
replied:

"I never think of i