ep you' temper. Bad manners carry you back on you' path."
Hertha knew that she had not kept her temper, and in recognition of the
training from a gentle teacher reared in a school whose doors have long
since closed, she made her gesture of apology. But her resentment
against the "cheap cracker" was slow in dying out, and she rejoiced as
she moved about the house that he was absent from it.

She and Bob became greater friends than ever and took many walks in the
park, watching with happy interest the change from spring to full
summer. On a Friday afternoon of the week that Dick had left she went to
the great department store in New York where she loved to make her few
purchases to buy a top for Bob, partly on Bob's account, partly because
she herself enjoyed the outing. It was late in the season for tops, but
in the interminable story that meandered on through the pleasant paths
they traversed in the park Tom-of-the-Woods was spinning his top and Bob
wanted a new one of his own. So, in no hurry over her purchase,
lingering to look at the lovely silks and satins in the great rotunda,
Hertha at last found herself in the basement and, appealing to a floor
walker, was directed to the fifth floor where tops were to be found
among the toys. She pushed her way into the elevator and, standing well
in the rear, waited while the other customers got out one by one until,
left alone, the boy at the wheel called out "Fifth floo', upholstery,
curtains, toys."

When she was new to the city she had looked curiously at the dark faces
of the men who ran the elevators, thinking that some time she might see
one that she knew. But this had never happened and she had ceased to
expect it. There was no mistaking, however, the pleasant drawling voice,
the long drawn out "toy-ese" that came from the man at the wheel.
Impetuously moving forward and grasping his arm before he had time to
open the door she drew him around to her and cried out "Tom!"

"Yes'm," he answered, looking at her with a serious smile.

He had changed, but for the better, she saw that in a flash. His mouth
was more firmly set, about his eyes was a more determined look. He was
still a boy, but was fast gaining the outlook upon the world of a man.

"Tom!" Hertha cried again, "what are you doing here?"

She held his arm in hers. "Let go, Hertha," he said in a tone of
command, "I must open the door."

She loosed her hold and he drew the door open, but no one entered and
the