ost of it, you know!"

Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back,
tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you
because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club,
and she might--she has such a queer sense of humor--"

Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was
dead.

"I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his
kindest tone. "But the time to _act_, of course, was when they first
arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through,
for a few days."

It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went
downstairs with tears in her eyes.

She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now
to have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was
sulky, rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked
to her, and Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that
there wasn't enough asparagus.

Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling
courtesy. "Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had
only an impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one.
And plenty, too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were
eggs and bacon for Marie and Lottie and Frieda.

"I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious
and homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business,
George. It's about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...."

George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick.

"Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented
well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately,
some man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that
one of them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other
they'll all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like
the idea, anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet,
if I send the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do.
So I'm going to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all
over to you, and whatever you decide will be best!"

"My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave
all that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!"

"Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them
now."

"Sampson? What the deuce di