was gone, its place taken by one of shining
aluminum. At the windows the flowers blossomed with lovely profusion,
geraniums sharing the boxes with trailing green vines and marguerites.
Even the floor had shared in the general sprucing up and shone with
paint and varnish.

Taking in the many changes about her, commenting on this and that,
Hertha suddenly rose and going to a shelf above the stove, took down a
pipe. She turned it in her hand and said with a trembling little smile,
that would have been mischievous if it had had the strength, "I wouldn't
have thought it of you, and you so young. Wait till you're an old
woman."

Kathleen was too happy in her friend's returning brightness to be able
to retort. She could only answer, looking very foolish: "You've taken a
glance about the room and can see for yourself what's happened. I was
that lonely after you went away I hadn't the will to deny him. He came
in one day with the license in his pocket, and nothing for it but we
must go to the mayor to be tied together. So I put on my hat and went
with him."

"I am so glad!" Hertha's eyes shone with unselfish pleasure. "I liked
him very much. But where is he?"

"In your old room, darling, sleeping as quiet as a baby. He goes to bed
each night at half-past ten and at eleven he's breathing as regular as
if there was never a care in the world. He wanted me to live in his
place, but when I caught a sight of his landlady's face I brought him
here. It would have been strychnine in my tea if she had had the chance,
she was that fond of him."

"I don't wonder a bit."

Kathleen's kimona trailing behind her on the polished floor, Hertha
walked about the room, examining each newly acquired article. "How
pretty and shipshape everything looks!"

"Wait till you see the parlor with the piano!" Kathleen's raillery could
not conceal her pride. "We have music every night from half-past eight
to half-past nine precisely. It's his daily practising. But we go by the
clock these days!"

"You like it," Hertha declared, "I know you do," and she received no
denial.

Tucked in bed in the room that was once Kathleen's, her hair lying, a
braid on either side of her face, she looked younger and more childlike
than when she had lived here, months before. But only for a minute. Away
from the brightness of the kitchen the harassed, frightened look
returned. Her sorrow rushed back and clutching her friend's hand she
held her to her side.

"I must