y
alone. Burning tears of fury sprung to her eyes. She caught up her
despised coat and dashed wildly out of the gate in a perfect tempest of
anger and resentment.

CHAPTER II

NAN'S VISITOR

She knew what was coming when the bell rang. She had been expecting it
all the afternoon. But in spite of that her heart beat fast and her
breath came hard as she heard the familiar sound. Not that she was
afraid. She had nothing to be afraid of, she assured herself
defiantly, and besides, fear was one of the things she despised.
Whatever else she was, she was certainly not a coward. Still she sat
in her room and waited in a state of mind that was not precisely what
one would call tranquil.

She heard Delia mount the basement stairs and then she heard her ask
the new-comer into the parlor. A moment later there was a tap upon
Nan's bedroom door.

"Come in," she said carelessly, and pretended to be searching for some
article lost in the confusion of her upper drawer.

"You're wanted in the parlor, Nan," began Delia at once. "It's a lady
who says she lives on the block and she wouldn't give her name, but I
think she's the one moved into Leffingwell's old house last spring--has
that little girl with the long curls, you know the one I mean. Shall I
help you put on another dress and braid your hair over? It's fearful
mussy-lookin'. Or will I just go and say you'll be down in a minute
while you do it yourself?"

Nan cast a glance at her torn dress and towzled head in the mirror.
"No, Delia, I'll go as I am, and if the lady doesn't like it she
can--oh, well, I'll go down as I am."

Delia pressed her lips together, as though trying to hold back the
words of advice on the tip of her tongue. She knew it was worse than
useless to try to argue with the girl. She had not lived in the house
since Nan was born without learning better than to try to reason with
her when she had once declared her mind. She stood beside the door,
and allowed Nan to pass through it before her, without saying a word.
Then she followed her quietly down stairs. At the parlor door Nan
paused a moment, and Delia, who thought she was about to speak, paused
too, but the girl only turned sharply into the room, pulling the door
shut behind her. Once across the threshold she halted and stood
irresolute. Whatever the result of this meeting might prove, depended
not so much on Nan as on her visitor.

Nan, though standing in awkward silence, as