p to chatter any more now," she digressed
preventingly. "You made me forget all about time, and cooks should never
forget that. It's nearly sundown and father--he'll have been hungry for
two hours."

Roberts got to his feet slowly. If in the new light of understanding
there was more he had intended saying that day, or if at the sudden
barring of opportunity he felt disappointment, his face gave no
indication of the fact. He merely smiled in tolerant appreciation of the
suggestion last made.

"Doesn't your father know the remedy for hunger yet, at his age?" he
queried whimsically.

"Knows it, yes," with an odd laugh; "but it would never occur to him
unless some one else suggested it."

A pause, then she looked her companion full in the face, significantly
so. "He's dependent and irresponsible as a child or--as Steve Armstrong.
They're helpless both, absolutely, left to themselves; and speaking of
that, they're both by themselves now." She started for the motor hastily,
again significantly so.

"Come, please," she requested.

CHAPTER VI

CRISIS

It was nearly dark when the big red car drew up in front of the Gleason
cottage and, the girl only alighting, moved on again slowly down the
street. At the second crossing beyond, out of sight of the house, it
switched abruptly to the right for four blocks, into the poorer section
of the town, and stopped before a battered, old-fashioned residence. A
middle-aged man in his shirt sleeves sat on the step smoking a pipe. At a
nod from the driver he advanced to the curb.

"Mr. Armstrong in, Edwards?" asked Roberts directly.

The man shook his head.

"Been here, has he?"

"Not since he left this morning; about ten o'clock it was."

Roberts paused, his hand on the clutch lever.

"Will you have him 'phone me when he comes, please?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Thank you."

The next stop was at the office, dark with a Sabbath darkness; but not
for long. Within the space of a few minutes after he came, every light
switched on, the windows open wide, his coat dangling from a chair in the
corner, Roberts was at work upon a small mountain of correspondence
collected upon his desk, a mountain of which each unit was marked
"personal" or "private." At almost the same time a waiter from a near-by
_cafe_ entered with a tray of sandwiches and coffee. Thereafter he ate as
he worked.

An hour passed. The sandwiches disappeared entirely and the mountain grew
slightly smaller.