ns over the 'phone--about
where Henry was to-night, and what you'd be doing?" The hostess said:
"Why, no, Violet, no--I'm always glad to see you."

There was a pause, and the girl exclaimed: "That's what I come out for.
I couldn't stand it any longer. Mag, what in God's name have I done?
Didn't you see me the other day on Market Street? You were looking right
at me. It's been nearly a year since we've talked. You used to couldn't
get along a week without a good talk; but now--say, Mag, what's the
matter? what have I done to make you treat me like this?" There was a
tremor in the girl's voice. She looked piteously at the wife, radiant in
her red house gown. The hostess spoke. "Look here, Violet Mauling, I did
see you on Market Street, and I did cut you dead. I knew it would bring
you up standing and we'd have this thing out."

The girl looked her question, but flushed. Then she said, "You mean the
old man?"

"I mean the old man. It's perfectly scandalous, Violet; didn't you get
your lesson with Van Dorn?" returned the hostess. "The old man won't
marry you--you don't expect that, do you?" The girl shook her head. The
woman continued, "Well, then drop it. You can't afford to be seen with
him."

"Mag," returned the visitor, "I tell you before God I can't afford not
to. It's my job. It's all I've got. Mamma hasn't another soul except me
to depend on. And he's harmless--the old coot's as harmless as a child.
Honest and true, Mag, if I ever told the truth that's it. He just stands
around and is silly--just makes foolish breaks to hear himself
talk--that's all. But what can I do? He keeps me in the company store,
and Heaven knows he doesn't kill himself paying me--only $8 a week, as
far as that goes, and then he talks and talks and talks about Judge Van
Dorn, and snickers and drops his front false teeth--ugh!--and drivels.
But, Mag, he's harmless as a baby."

"Well," returned the hostess, "Henry says every one is talking about it,
and you're a common scandal, Violet Mauling, and you ought to know it. I
can't hold you up, as you well know--no one can."

Then there followed a flood of tears, and after it had subsided the two
women were sitting on a couch. "I want to tell you about Tom Van Dorn,
Mag--you never understood. You thought I used to chase him. God knows I
didn't, Mag--honest, honest, honest! You knew as well as anything all
about it; but I never told you how I fought and fought and all that and
how little by litt