ame roaring through the darkness, and which stopped
protestingly at their corner, was ablaze with electricity, almost filled
with passengers. A young man with a bundle changed his place in order
that they might sit together in one of the little benches bordering the
aisle; opposite them was a laughing, clay-soiled group of labourers going
home from work; in front, a young couple with a chubby child. He stood
between his parents, facing about, gazing in unembarrassed wonder at the
dark lady with the veil. Alison's smile seemed only to increase the
solemnity of his adoration, and presently he attempted to climb over the
barrier between them. Hodder caught him, and the mother turned in alarm,
recapturing him.

"You mustn't bother the lady, Jimmy," she said, when she had thanked the
rector. She had dimpled cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, but their
expression changed as they fell on Alison's face, expressing something
of the wonder of the child's.

"Oh, he isn't bothering me," Alison protested. "Do let him stand."

"He don't make up to everybody," explained the mother, and the manner of
her speech was such a frank tribute that Alison flushed. There had been,
too, in the look the quick sympathy for bereavement of the poor.

"Aren't they nice?" Alison leaned over and whispered to Hodder, when the
woman had turned back. "One thing, at least, I shall never regret,--that
I shall have to ride the rest of my life in the streetcars. I love them.
That is probably my only qualification, dear, for a clergyman's wife."

Hodder laughed. "It strikes me," he said, "as the supreme one."

They came at length to Mr. Bentley's door, flung open in its usual wide
hospitality by Sam. Whatever theist fortunes, they would always be
welcome here . . . . But it turned out, in answer to their question,
that their friend was not at home.

"No, sah," said Sam, bowing and smiling benignantly, "but he done tole
me to say, when you and Miss Alison come, hit was to make no diffunce,
dat you bofe was to have supper heah. And I'se done cooked it--yassah.
Will you kindly step into the liba'y, suh, and Miss Alison? Dar was a
lady 'crost de city, Marse Ho'ace said--yassah."

"John," said Alison with a questioning smile, when they were alone before
the fire, "I believe he went out on purpose,--don't you?--just that we
might be here alone."

"He knew we were coming?"

"I wrote him."

"I think he might be convicted on the evidence," Hodder agreed. "But-