should appear and attempt to embrace
her, she would say: "Wait, please, I have something to tell you that
will change everything!"

That lady stood at the newel-post awaiting her. She wore a wrapper of
lavender cassimere to-day, elaborately trimmed with lace and knots of
pink ribbon. Somewhat fresher than the pink one, it was not
conspicuously so, and her hair was truly a "sight." Elsie was dumb:
she couldn't make the prepared speech nor any other. She tried to keep
at a distance by reaching out her hand formally. But it proved
useless, and again she was gathered to her hostess's heart.

The strangest feature was Mr. Middleton's behavior. He seemed as
surprised and delighted to see his wife appear at lunch, as fearful
lest she overtax herself, as if she were her own very opposite. The
girl couldn't comprehend how one so intelligent, so refined, of such
exquisite taste, apparently, could be so blunt in this one particular.
She couldn't understand how he could endure, much less care for, this
ugly, withered, yellow, untidy woman. However, it made her own
position somewhat easier. If he were really aware how impossibly
vulgar she was, and took it seriously to heart, Elsie wasn't sure if
even thus early she should be able to leave him to bear such misery
alone. His unconscious loneliness was appealing enough; conscious
unhappiness might have proved more than she could have withstood.

He was called from the table to the telephone. Elsie hoped he wouldn't
make any engagement for directly after lunch. If he should, she
couldn't risk missing her train. She would speak out at once. She
would say: "Oh, Mr. Middleton, I'll say good-by, for I shan't be here
when you return." And then she would explain briefly and he wouldn't
have time to take it hard while she was there to witness.

CHAPTER VIII

Returning to the table, Mr. Middleton announced with troubled face that
Miss Stewart, the librarian, was ill, and he must find some one before
three o'clock to take her place. He glanced at Elsie hesitatingly.

"I suppose you are tired, Elsie, dear?"

"Oh, no," she returned and added, almost unconsciously, "Uncle John."

"Then I wonder if I can't work you in at the library for a day or so?
It isn't at all taxing, indeed, it's really very pleasant. It's open
every day from three to six, and except on Saturday, when there's apt
to be a crowd, people drop in in a leisurely way. I could go over with
you and g