ave happened, my dear Corinne!"

"There'll be roses and violets and little pink lights and chicking salad
and conservatories and fountings all lit up. And what'll you and her
talk about, Mr. V.V., with the band playing kind of soft and settin'
behind some rubber-plants like?"

"Probably something for her own good," said Mr. V.V., with a close-set
mouth; leaving Kern to reflect that that was a funny way to talk at
a party.

Mrs. Garland rushed in with a steaming pan, and plumped down on her
knees at the unshone feet. The little girl prattled on. But the tall
doctor, on his own word, had relapsed abruptly into a brown study....

"It sags a little in front," Kern was saying. "Lemme just get my hand on
the buckle a minute. Mr. V.V., what makes you look so mad, kind of?"

The young man started a little.

"I was thinking," said he, "that life is hard at times."

"It's truth, Doctor.... Hadn't his negtie ought to be tightened up a
weeny bit, Kern, now?" said Mrs. Garland harshly, staring up from her
adoring position. "Not but _I_ think the shine of his gool'
collar-button ain't pretty...."

* * * * *

When Mr. V.V. and his gala raiment were gone, Kern skipped into his
bedroom and hastily tackled the marked disorder there prevalent. She
thought that an extra minute or so stolen for this purpose would not
really be so very wrong. Care of the rooms was strictly included in
the boarder's twenty dollars a month, but Kern was not thinking of it
that way exactly.

[Illustration: THERE'S _SOMETHING_ WRONG, SIR, MR. V.V.]

"Mommer, what makes him have that kinder sorry look all the time, I
wonder?" she said, when Mrs. Garland followed her in.

"Sorry, what you talkin' about? A pleasanter spoke gempman I never see.
Hand me them pants."

"I'll fold'em, mommer.--I don't mean speakin', but the look he's got,
just the same when he's laughin' and jokin' and all. It's the look he's
got, don't you notice, someway?"

"It's that foot o' his, I reckon. Pains him prob'ly. The mess he's left
things.... He'd ought to have a fulldressuit of his own, 'stead o'
borrowin' that fat O'Neill's."

"Mommer, if he had one, somebody 'd ask it off him. Like he gave Mister
his Sunday cutaway coat.... How'd he hurt his foot, mommer, jever
hear him say?"

"Berkler bone, _I_ hear."

They worked in silence for a time.

"I'm right tired to-night. Put 'em here in his clo'es-bag, mommer....
Don't seem it could be j