losure thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden
demand for labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road
bore the name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was
adjacent for the purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites.

The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their
course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts,
Genevieve faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's
expression was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the
child is suddenly confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings.

"There is some one in the renting office," said Genevieve with quiet
determination. "I'll find out. We shall need a guide to go around with
us. Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to."

Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back
on the cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his
buggy strap.

"I--if you'll excuse me, Genevieve, dear, I won't get out. I've only
got on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement
this morning, you know."

"Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her
mild accents had never before known.

Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with
all the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know
you haven't. But I'm going to walk through. _I_ am making a report for
the Woman's Forum."

Alys' face crimsoned with anger.

"You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse
you permission. You will have to obtain a permit."

"I have one," Genevieve retorted, "from the Health Department. And--I am
to meet one of the officers here."

Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than
graceful.

"What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Genevieve, I don't
understand you."

"Don't you?"

The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of
observant womanhood.

"I think you _do_. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, if
that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George
because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an
irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination
to do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is
responsible."

She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street.

The advent of a