t want to ask
Auntie to. It's--it's a letter to Maurice. I wanted to tell him
something.... But I've changed my mind. I don't want him to see it. He
mustn't see it! Oh, Mrs. Houghton, would you get it for me? I'd be _so_
grateful! ... And then,--oh, that five cents! I don't know how I'm going
to send it to her--"

"Tell me who it is, and I'll get it to her; and I'll get the letter,"
Mary Houghton told her; and went on with the usual sick-room
encouragement: "The doctor says you are better. But you must hurry and
get well, so as to help Maurice with the little boy!"

Her words were like a push against some tottering barrier.

"I tried to help him; I tried to get Jacky! I went to the woman's, but
she wouldn't give him to me! I _tried_--so hard. But she wouldn't! She
paid my car fare--"

Mrs. Houghton bent over and kissed her: "Tell me about it, dear; perhaps
I can help."

"There is no help! ... She won't give him up. She insisted on coming
home with me, and she paid my car fare! Then I thought, if--I were not
alive, Maurice could get him, because he could marry her ..."

Instantly, with a thrill of horror and admiration, Mrs. Houghton
understood the "accident"! "Eleanor! What a mad, mad thought! As if you
could help Maurice by giving him a great grief! Oh, I do thank God he
has been spared anything so terrible!"

"But," Eleanor said, excitedly, "if I were dead, it would be his duty to
marry her, wouldn't it? Jacky is his child! Oughtn't he to marry Jacky's
mother? Oh, Mrs. Houghton, I owe her five cents--"

The older woman was trembling, but she spoke calmly: "Eleanor, dear, you
must live for Maurice, not--die for him."

"Promise me," said Eleanor, "you won't tell him?"

"Of course I won't!" said Mrs. Houghton, with elaborate cheerfulness.
She kissed her, and went downstairs, feeling very queer in her knees.
She paused at the parlor door to say to Mrs. Newbolt and Edith that she
was going out to do an errand for Eleanor; "I hope Maurice will get
back soon," she said. "I don't like Eleanor's looks." Then she went to
get that letter which Maurice "must not see." As she walked along the
street she was still tingling with the shock of having her own theories
brought home to her. "Thank God," Mary Houghton said, "that nothing
happened!"

The maid who opened the door at Maurice's house was evidently excited,
but not about her mistress. "Oh, Mrs. Houghton!" she said, "we done our
best, but he wouldn't take a bite!-