d the
front room, said, "Step in and tell me what you wish to know."

The room into which Morgan entered was a counterpart of the one
across the hall, though as he rapidly observed the furnishings, he
was impressed with the greater taste displayed and the homelike
atmosphere. A piece of embroidery, on which she had evidently been
working, lay on the arm of a chair near the window.

Conjecturing that she would resume her seat in this chair, Morgan
seated himself where he could keep his back to the window, while the
girl whom he was about to question would directly face the full
light. Morgan's guess was correct. The girl went directly to the
chair she had left to answer his ring, and taking up her embroidery,
picked nervously at its edges, meanwhile watching Morgan
expectantly.

Surmising that a direct attempt to question her at once might defeat
his purpose, Morgan immediately broke into an account of the
previous night's occurrence. As he brought out the various details
of what was reported to have taken place, he slyly watched her face.
At the end of his recital, he felt convinced that what he told the
girl had previously been unknown to her. Moreover, Morgan became
sensible of a growing feeling of interest and confidence in the
girl. Her sweetness seemed so genuine, her dark blue eyes so frank
and honest in the straightforward way they met his.

"It seems very strange that I heard none of the excitement,"
remarked the girl, when Morgan had finished his story. "I had a
rather busy day yesterday with my studies and retired early."

Morgan had decided upon his line of questioning while relating the
incidents of the night before.

"May I ask your name?"

"Certainly," she replied. "My name is Atwood."

Morgan, having noticed the absence of a wedding ring, assumed that
she was unmarried. Therefore, he said, "Is your mother at home, Miss
Atwood?"

A shade of sadness passed over her face. "My mother died some months
ago," she replied.

"I am sorry. I know what it is to have a good mother," sympathized
Morgan. Then he inquired, "Perhaps your father heard the
disturbance?"

"Oh no," she replied. "My father is away."

"He travels?"

"Yes; my father is a salesman."

"For some Chicago house, I suppose."

"No; for a business house in St. Louis. We formerly lived there."

"St. Louis is a pleasant city," commented Morgan. "Still, many
people prefer Chicago."

"Oh, I think I should prefer to live in St. Louis