Patty was walking up and down the library, waiting for Little Billee. He had written and he had telegraphed and he had telephoned, and every message changed or contradicted the previous one, and Patty was nervous.

She flew from one chair to another, she flung herself on the davenport, and back to the window-seat; she pulled aside the curtains and stared down the street, in fact, she flew around, Bumble declared, like a hen with her head off.

“Fly, if you like, Patty,” Nan said, kindly; “it may help some.”

It was three o’clock, and she had expected Bill momentarily since one. And at last she saw him! The big man came swinging round a corner and looking up, saw Patty’s face at the window.

He paused at the sight, and the two stood, beaming at each other.

“Oh, there he is!” Nan cried. “Come, Bumble, let’s leave them to themselves for a few minutes.”

“A few hours!” Patty called out, as the two slipped from the room, and then Farnsworth came in.

He found a Patty smiling with joy, not nervous now, but a lovely shining-eyed girl, with welcoming arms outstretched and a soft flush tinting her cheeks.

“Blossom Girl!” he cried, and then he clasped her in a big whole-souled embrace, that nearly swept her off her feet.

Close he held her, in a happy silence, then he gently lifted the flower-face and kissed the quivering lips.

“Oh, my dearest, my Best Beloved, I thought I’d never get here! The trains crawled, the waits were interminable! But I’m here, and I have you in my arms and nothing else matters!”

“You dear thing!” Patty said, timidly reaching up to caress his strong, firm chin with her little fingers, “I’d forgotten you’re so – so enormous!”

Farnsworth’s laugh rang out.

“There is a lot of me, isn’t there? But I’m all yours, so you must get used to seeing me round. Would you rather I were less enormous, Patty?”

“No, indeed! I wouldn’t have you changed in any respect! You’re just right! But you make me feel small!”

“And you are. My little Patty Petite. I’m glad, too, ’cause I like you much better this way. You see, I can pick you up and put you wherever I please.”

Farnsworth picked Patty up like a child, and placed her on the big davenport, then sat down beside her.

“Now, I’m happy! Can we sit here forever, – or do we have to be ordinary citizens and chum with the family?”

“They’ll let us alone a little while, and then I s’pect Nan and Bumble will come in.”

“Oh, pshaw! I hoped I’d have you all to myself. Can’t we send them to a matinée, or something?”

“It’s too late for that. Here they come now, Little Billee! Take your arm away!”

“Shan’t! They know you’re mine, and I’ve a perfect right to have my arm round you!”

“But – it isn’t done! It isn’t conventional!”

“I make my own conventions! Hello, Bumble! How d’you do, Mrs. Fairfield? Excuse this small parcel I hold in my left arm, but I can’t let go of it.”

Farnsworth’s bonny smile was so glad and gay that Nan smiled in sympathy.

“All right,” she said, “don’t mind us.”

“We don’t,” said Patty, and she cuddled contentedly in Big Bill’s outstretched arm, as they returned to the sofa.

“You see,” Farnsworth explained, “I’ve had the dickens of a time to get away at all, and everything interfered and detained me. I can only stay a few hours, – ”

“What!” cried Patty, “you’re going right back? Tonight?”

“Yes, dear; I’m on a big mission, – two big missions, in fact, one connected with my country and one with my sweetheart. I try not to let them get mixed up, – but it’s difficult to give undivided attention to either.”

“What’d you come for,” demanded Patty, “if you have to go right away again?”

“I came, my child, to make sure you will name a certain date, that will be to me, the most momentous in American history. I must get that settled before I go to work in earnest to help win the war! And you said you couldn’t do it over the telephone.”

“This way is nicer,” and Patty nestled against his shoulder.

“For bare-faced love-makers, you two are pretty outspoken,” commented Bumble, smiling at them.

“’Scuse!” said Patty, without moving. “We wouldn’t under ordinary conditions, but realise, please, that our love-making has to be done when we can get a chance, – which is awful seldom. If you don’t want to play audience, – there is another course open to you.”

“No, thank you, I won’t run away!” and Bumble settled down to stay. “I want to hear all the plans and arrangements, – and oh, Patty, when is the day to be?”

“I’m cornered, I see, and I suppose I may as well decide now as any time. Let’s say June – about the middle of June. How’s that, Little Billee?”

“Next best to May, if you can’t be ready for May. How about the first of June?”

“No, ’long about the middle or latter part I’ve a heap to do. I can’t get married without a lot of embroidered linen things – ”

“Oh, have a shower!” cried Bumble.

“Nonsense! I don’t want a shower! I mean really lovely things, – all hand-embroidered, – oh, Little Billee, shall we live in a house?”

“Why, I had supposed so, – but if you prefer a tree – ”

“No; I mean a house or an apartment, or what?”

“Goodness, Agnes! I don’t know. Live wherever you like, – and I’ll live there too.”

“In Washington?”

“That I don’t know,” and Farnsworth looked suddenly serious. “It all depends on the war developments, Patty. I may have to go to France.”

“All right, – I’ll go along.”

“But perhaps you can’t, – it will be on a special mission – ”

Tears came to Patty’s eyes. “Whatever your country calls you to do, you must do, of course,” she said, slowly, “but if you go to France and leave me here – I’ll go with you, – so there, now!”

“It may not come to that,” Farnsworth sighed a little wearily; “and we won’t cross the bridge until we come to it. You go ahead as fast as you can, embroidering your tidies and tablespreads, and – ”

“Oh, I shan’t embroider them. I’ll have them done, – in the trousseau shops, – oh, they will be lovely!”

“You goose!” cried Bumble. “I believe you think more of your trousseau than of your husband!”

Patty made no answer to this, save a flashing glance at Farnsworth, which seemed to assure him that Bumble’s notion was a mistaken one.

“Tell us about the valentines,” Nan said, “however did you come to get one just like Patty’s?”

“Wasn’t it queer?” assented Bill. “And, if you ask me, I think they were silly, stupid things, anyway! How’d you come to get it, Patty?”

“On a dare,” Patty laughed. “Lieutenant Herron – ”

“Who’s he?”

“One of my new army friends. Oh, Little Billee, I’ve so much to tell you, and no time to tell it in!”

“That’s so! and first of all, I must ask you if you opened a sealed note before I told you you might.”

“No; I didn’t.” Patty’s blue eyes met Farnsworth’s blue ones with a gaze of unmistakable honesty.

“I knew you didn’t, of course,” he said, perplexedly, “but the trouble is, who did? Somebody must have done so, to know that I thought of coming up to New York. It was important that it shouldn’t be known.”

“But who could have done it?”

“Where was the letter?”

“In the pocket of my fur stole: that has a most secure clasp-button, and I’m sure it wasn’t meddled with.”

“Patty!” cried Bumble, “you know that spy thing, who dressed up as a woman – ”

“What!” exclaimed Farnsworth.

Eagerly Patty and Bumble together told the story of the missing chaperon and the masquerading pastry-cook.

Farnsworth looked very grave.

“A spy, undoubtedly,” he said; “in Herron’s employ.”

“Oh, not Lieutenant Herron! Why, he’s one of our own soldiers!”

“Forget it, Patty. And you, too, Helen. Never mention the subject to any human being. Much depends on that. I can trust you?”

“Oh, yes!” vowed both girls.

“Did I do wrong, dear?” asked Patty, anxiously.

“Not knowingly, sweetheart; but you must be very careful. I use you as my little helper, but if it is known, I must not do it. Now, Patty, here is another paper, that I want to leave in your care for a couple of days. Hide it as carefully as you can, and when I tell you to, then, mail it.”

“I will,” and Patty took the letter. “I’ll put it in this desk, now, – see, it has a secret compartment.”

Patty went to an antique mahogany desk, and in sight of them all, she secreted the important document.

“That’s probably all right,” and Farnsworth sighed with relief. “I was a bit fidgetty about having it in my pockets any longer. Now, don’t touch that desk, or open the secret drawer until I tell you to post the packet. Somebody might see you poking about.”

“But there are no spies here, Billee.”

“They are everywhere. No place is surely safe from them. Don’t worry, or even think about them. But just obey orders, unquestioningly, like the loyal little patriot you are!”

“All right; just as you say,” and Patty smiled at her commander.

“Why, look who’s here!” Bumble cried, and Fred Fairfield came in.

“Hello, Farnsworth! Well, but I’m glad to see you! You’re looking fine, barring a deep line of care and responsibility that has furrowed itself into your brow.”

“Oh, I’m all right, especially now that I’m back home.”

“Home it is, my boy. You’re a pretty big order for a son, but I’m all ready to adopt you.”

“All right, Dad, give me fatherly advice when needed.”

And then to Farnsworth’s deep regret, Philip Van Reypen came to call.

The two men met courteously and were outwardly calm, but in each heart rankled a distaste of the other.

Perhaps it was absurd, but Farnsworth was jealous of Philip, and though confident of Patty’s love and loyalty, he hated to think of Van Reypen in New York while he must be in Washington.

As to Philip, he was frankly envious of Little Billee, and moreover, was determined to cut him out and regain Patty for himself if it could possibly be done. Phil was not dishonourable, – at least, he didn’t think he was, – for he deemed all fair in love and war.

But Captain Farnsworth was very glad when he learned that Van Reypen must of necessity be in Wilmington almost all the time. To be sure, his leave of absence seemed to occur very often, but after all he didn’t really live in New York now, and that cheered Little Billee’s heart.

“When will you fly with me?” Van Reypen asked of Patty, and he purposely gave his question a sentimental flavour that startled Farnsworth by its implication.

“Not till you’re an experienced airman,” returned Patty, gaily, and then Bill realised what was meant.

“Patty!” he said, severely, “you are never to go in an aeroplane, – I forbid it!”

He spoke far more sternly, even harshly than he meant to, for the bare idea of her so risking her life appalled him, and with the added awfulness of her going up with Van Reypen, Little Billee felt indeed aghast.

“No?” said Patty, pouting a little; “oh, but I want to!”

“Never! Understand? It is an order!”

The positiveness of Farnsworth’s commands was quite softened by the sweetness of his tone, but Patty was perverse, and she replied, “I shan’t promise.”

“Oh, yes, you will, dear, – you’ll promise because I ask it.”

Farnsworth stepped nearer to her, and with one hand raised her chin until her gaze met his. His strong, loving glance conquered, and won by the deep love she saw in his eyes, Patty said, simply, “I promise.”

“That’s all right,” and Bill smiled at her, needing no reiteration or reassurance. Her simple word was sufficient.

Van Reypen said nothing, but he gave Patty a quizzical glance.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied to his insinuation. “I love to be bossed!”

“Oh, Patty, don’t lose your wilfulness, – that’s one of your charms.”

“Not any more. You don’t know, Phil, how an engaged girl loves to be told what she may and what she may not do. And, incidentally, I’ve no desire to break my neck before my wedding-day!”

“Oh, don’t think I’d take you flying until I was sure of my own powers.”

“Powers are not all of it,” Farnsworth said, “accidents are unavoidable, even in the best regulated airships. But that matter is settled. How do you like the air game, Phil?”

“Top notch! I was cut out for an aviator, – I feel it. There’s no sport like it! Though I don’t take it exactly as a sport. I’m making a very serious business of it.”

“Good for you! That’s the way to talk. Now, people and friends, I’m going to ask you all to go away from this place and let me have a little time alone with Patty, or else, stay here and let us go somewhere else.”

Patty gasped at this high-handed suggestion, but was truly pleased, for she hated to have Farnsworth and Van Reypen together, and too, she wanted to see Little Billee alone.

Nan, always helpful, hustled them all out to another room, and left the lovers in possession of the library.

“He is splendid,” said Bumble as they went to the family sitting-room. “Doesn’t he look fine in uniform!”

“Great,” agreed Van Reypen, who was not at all petty, “he’s a fine old chap. And, after yours truly, I don’t know any one more worthy of our Patty.”

“You’re both so splendid,” said Bumble, with a flattering glance, “I should think Patty would feel ‘how happy could I be with either, were t’other dear charmer away.’”

“That’s what I hope,” declared Phil, who made no secret of his wishes regarding Patty.

“But you’re both away most of the time. I’m going away too, tomorrow.”

“Home?”

“Oh, no. To visit a friend in East Ninety-fifth Street. She invited me for a week, but I’m only going to stay a couple of days, – unless I like it very much, then I might stay longer.”

“Can’t I take you there? When are you going?”

“Oh, no, thank you. Nan will send me, of course. I go tomorrow afternoon. Patty won’t miss me, she’s so busy ordering linen.”

“How she does love pretty things.”

“Oh, she does! She’s just the one to get married, if only to get up a trousseau. Me, when I’m married, I won’t know whether I’ve any worldly goods or not!”

“You never do, anyhow, do you?” said Nan, laughing.

Meantime, Patty was discussing great and important matters with Farnsworth.

“I leave all plans and arrangements to you,” he was saying; “I believe that’s the bride’s prerogative anyhow, but I’m really ignorant of such matters. Personally, I’d rather just be married to you, and run away from everybody, – without any bells on, – but it’s as you say.”

“Nay, nay, Pauline! Little Patty has to have a wedding, as is a wedding! Not an awful big crowd and not a gorgeous pageant, but a nice sweet pretty home wedding, with lots of white satin ribbons!”

“Not tied onto trunks and things!”

“Oh, no! Of course, not that! I mean aisles of it, and white stanchions – ”

“What in the world are those?”

“Florists’ posts to hold up the garlands that make the aisle through which your bride shall come to you!”

“Patty Blossom! When you say those things you do look so sweet! How can I wait till June?”

“Oh, the time will just fly! By the way, dear, why can’t I go up in a flying machine? Everybody does.”

“Yes, and the majority of them come down with broken bones.”

“Oh, not the majority!”

“Well, a large minority, then. But, that matter is settled, dearest, once for all. You’re not to do it, see?”

“Why?”

“Because I forbid it. Is that enough?”

“No; that isn’t quite enough! Here’s the real reason why!” Patty smiled and whispered, “Because I love you!”

“Patty Precious! How happy you make me when you’re sweet and docile like that. Of course you know it’s my love for you that makes me forbid your risking your life.”

“I know it. Little Billee, wasn’t it funny about those valentines?”

“Indeed it was. What did you mean by a dare?”

“Just that! Lieutenant Herron said I wouldn’t dare send it to you, lest you send it back! And I knew you wouldn’t, and so I dared! And then – ”

“And then you thought I did! Oh, you dear little goose!”

“I couldn’t help thinking so at first. How did you happen to get the one you sent?”

“Why, little Lena, – the youngster where I live, – ”

“Oh, is she a little black-haired beauty?”

“A little black-haired witch! Yes, she’s a good-looking kiddy – ”

“How old?”

“Sixteen, I believe. What, jealous!”

“N-no; but you don’t like her much, do you?”

“She’s a little nuisance! I’d fly the coop, only I’m well fixed there and it’s a bother to move.”

“Did she tell you to send it to me?”

“No, not exactly. She said I ought to send you a valentine, and, honestly, Patty, I own up I hadn’t thought of it! So, as she had some extra ones I took one and paid her for it. That’s all.”

“Sort of funny, – and funny they should be alike. You see, Mr. Herron practically forced me to send mine, and this little girl made you send yours!”

“Well, there’s no harm done, is there? It didn’t bother me when I received what might seem to be a ‘returned token.’ For I trust you, Patty, my Blessing, and nothing could ever make me believe you false or fickle unless you told me so yourself. So never fear what they call ‘misunderstandings’ for I shall come straight to you and make you understand! That’s the meaning, to my mind, of our faith and trust.”

“My dear big Little Billee! That’s the meaning to my mind, too. And to my heart. My whole love is yours – ”

“Till death do us part,” Farnsworth added, reverently.

CHAPTER XIV
HELEN’S ADVENTURE

“Oh, Nan, do let me have my own way for once!”

Bumble’s flashing brown eyes looked troubled, but determined.

“I know my way perfectly,” she went on. “The car can leave me at the concert and then take you on to your meeting. Then after the concert, I can hop into a taxicab and go right up to Millicent’s without a bit of trouble!”

“You could, of course, Helen, if you were like other people. But you’re so rattle-pated, you’d just as likely go down town as up, – and find yourself at the Battery.”

“No, I won’t, Nan, honest, I won’t. I’ve only to tell the driver 783 East Ninety-fifth Street, and he’ll take me right there.”

“You’ll forget the number.”

“I’ll write it on a card, and keep it in my bag. I’m not an infant, you know.”

“Well, all right, dear, if you think you won’t get lost. Telephone me as soon as you’re safely at your friend’s, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will. What time will you get home, yourself?”

“About six. But you see, Patty wants the car at five – ”

“Oh, I know, – I know all about it, and that’s why I insist on carrying out my own plans.”

“You’ve sent your suitcase, haven’t you?”

“Yes, that was part of my well-laid plan. You must admit, Nan, I’ve looked out for everything.”

“Yes, you have, Helen; and I consent, for I can’t see any way out of it. You see Patty is on the reception committee, and she must – ”

But Helen had flown off to get ready, so Nan turned to her own affairs.

“Good-bye, Patsy Poppet,” Bumble cried, a little later, as in coat and furs she looked in at Patty’s door.

“How sweet you look, angel child. Who sent you the violets – ”

“Philip.”

“He did! And none to me?”

“He said you had ordered him not to.”

“So I have; oh, me, I can’t have flowers from admiring swains any more, at all, at all!”

“Don’t pretend you’re sorry, for I know better. You haven’t an idea in your head that isn’t simply and solely about Bill Farnsworth!”

“Dear, dear! As bad as that?” Patty smiled a little absently, as she went on writing a letter.

“Yes, and you’re writing to him now, – I know by the lovesick way you hold your head on one side! And, moreover, my young friend, if you don’t get dressed pretty soon, you’ll be late for your party. It’s ’most four o’clock.”

“Good gracious, Bumble! I thought your concert began at three.”

“It does, – but was I ever at the beginning of anything?”

Helen calmly accepted her own chronic tardiness as a foregone conclusion, and with a waved farewell, she trotted off.

She was going to her friend’s house for the night, but she greatly desired to go to a concert first, and owing to the different engagements of Patty and Nan, it was inconvenient for the Fairfield car to call for her after the performance.

But she was more than willing to go to her friend’s in a cab by herself, and she had the address safely tucked away in her purse.

The concert was enthralling to Helen’s music-loving soul, and she deeply regretted that her late coming had lost her so much enjoyment.

When it was over, she drifted slowly out with the rest of the crowding audience, and reached the curb, still quivering with the exaltation that fine music always aroused in her.

In a sort of absent-minded way, she suddenly realised that it was snowing hard, – very hard, indeed. A young but vigorous blizzard had set in, and though shielded by the marquise, Helen found herself well covered with snowflakes.

She stepped up to the liveried man at the curb and said:

“Will you please call a taxi for me?”

The man looked at her.

“You’ll have to wait your turn, Miss, there’s twelve ahead of you. This here unexpected snowstorm makes cabs in great demand.”

Helen saw that many others were more or less patiently waiting and resigned herself to wait, too.

Her mind turned back to the music, and she drew out her programme to regret anew the numbers she had missed.

A long time she stood there, studying the names of the performers and their selections, – so absorbed that she did not notice the deepening dusk, the thickening snowflakes and the rapidly rising wind.

“It’s fierce, Miss,” the starter said to her, at last. “I’m going to get you that cab the very minute I can, – but I dunno when ’twill be.”

“What?” said Bumble, looking up. “Oh, yes, – I do want a cab. Why, how it is snowing! Get one quick, please.”

“I say I can’t,” and the man looked honestly anxious, for Helen had an irresponsible air and the hour was growing late.

“Can’t you telephone for your own car, Miss,” he said, by way of a hint.

“No; I can’t, Patty wants it, – I mean,” she suddenly realised where she was. “I mean, the others of the family need our car. I must have a cab.”

“Yes, Miss, I’ll do my best.”

“There ain’t no use,” the man told her a few minutes later. “I mean there ain’t no telling when I can get you a taxi; but here’s a hansom cab, don’t you think now, you’d better take this?”

“What? A hansom? Oh, I never do.”

“I know, Ma’am, but it’s a chance, and you might have to wait a lot longer – ”

“Oh, all right, perhaps it would be the best thing to do.”

“And you’re lucky to get me,” observed the driver from his high perch, “there ain’t many vacant cabs tonight.”

The starter put Helen into the little vehicle, tucked the robe about her, and closed the doors, with a feeling of relief at seeing the young lady en route for home. Then, before he had the glass lowered he asked for the address.

“Oh, yes,” and Helen opened her bag. “Wait a minute.”

But a hasty and fluttering search failed to produce the written paper.

“I had it,” she murmured; “I must have jerked it out with my programme. Won’t you look around on the pavement, please?”

The man obligingly looked, but the snow had fallen so thickly, that there was no sign of the lost paper.

“Never mind,” Helen said, “I know the number. It’s 783 West Ninety-fifth Street. I remember, because it’s the same number as some one’s house in Philadelphia.”

“You’re sure, Miss?”

“Yes, I’m sure. And it’s on the third floor. My friend told me so.”

“All right,” and the glass slid down, and the hansom started uptown.

The progress was slow, for the street traffic was enormous at that hour and greatly impeded by the storm beside.

At last they turned into Central Park, and Helen, looking out, thought that now their gait would be a little faster.

But it was decidedly slower, and after a few moments the driver opened the little trap in the roof, and called down.

“Can’t make the Park, Ma’am, – too slippery.”

“What?” asked Helen, not at all comprehending.

“I say, the horse can’t go through the Park. The ice under the snow is too treacherous, – he’ll fall down.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“Gotter go back out again, and get over to Broadway.”

“Very well, do that.”

It was all Greek to Helen, for she had no idea of the position of the New York streets, and it was now so dark that the lights glimmering through the storm only made a more bewildering outlook than ever.

She had no idea where she was, or where she was going, but her optimistic nature felt no fear, only annoyance at the elements.

Faster fell the snow, and slower went the horse. He stumbled frequently, and almost fell several times.

At last he did fall, and Helen was pitched forward against the glass.

Luckily, it did not break, and as she crouched in a heap, the driver reassured her from above.

“Sit tight, Miss! We’ll get him up. Don’t open the doors!”

Helen was thoroughly scared now, but her good sense told her that to obey the driver’s advice was the best thing she could do.

And sure enough, after a time, with the help of policemen and others, the horse was somehow again on his feet and apparently uninjured.

“Now we’re off,” the cheery driver called down. “It’s a terrible storm, but I can get you there, if we go slowly.”

“Go slowly, then,” Helen answered, greatly reassured by his honest, kindly accents, “but do get there!”

So they went on, now merely crawling, as the poor horse cautiously picked his steps, and now stopping altogether, as the traffic forced them to.

Helen’s watch had stopped, because she had forgotten to wind it. They passed few pedestal clocks, and those she could not see for the whirling flakes. She wanted to ask the driver how late it was getting, but couldn’t make him hear.

So they kept on, and at last the cab drew up to a curb and the driver got down.

“Well, Miss,” he said, “you was lucky to have me, – you sure was! For, I see you was young and didn’t know New York at all hardly. And I’m mighty glad to get you here without any broken bones, – I am that!”

Helen appreciated his solicitude for her welfare, and though she well knew it was, in part, a hint for a goodly fee above his regular fare, she felt that he deserved it.

She paid him generously, and bade him good night with courteous thanks.

“You all right, now?” he asked, as he looked at the brightly-lighted entrance of the apartment house.

“Oh, yes,” said Helen, glancing at the number to be sure it was 783. “This is Ninety-fifth Street, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am, – good night.”

“Good night and thank you.”

The hansom drove away through the storm and as Helen approached the house, the door was swung open by a liveried doorman.

She went in, smiling with gladness to be once more indoors amid light and warm surroundings, and going at once to the elevator, she said, “Third floor, please.”

To the maid who answered her ring at the door of the apartment, she nodded pleasantly, and said: “I’m Miss Barlow.”

Then she looked around for her friend, Millicent Wheeler.

But she saw no sign of her, and instead, a strange lady came from one of the rooms, and stared at Helen.

“What is it?” she said, politely but coldly.

“I am Miss Barlow,” repeated Helen, “to see Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Mrs. Wheeler? There is no such person in this house.”

“What! Isn’t this 783, Ninety-fifth?”

“Yes; are you looking for some friend?” The voice was kinder now, for Helen’s was an appealing personality, and she was evidently in a quandary, but still the strange hostess did not invite her guest to sit down.

“Yes; oh, what can be the trouble? I’m to visit Mrs. Charles Wheeler, and her address is this house, – but I’m sure she said third floor.”

“There’s no Mrs. Wheeler in this house at all, that I know of. You must have the wrong number.”

“No; I’m sure of the number.”

“May I ask your name?”

“I’m Helen Barlow, and I live in Philadelphia. I’m visiting friends in the city, and I’m to spend tonight with another friend. Oh, what shall I do?”

“I don’t see what you can do, but stay here till morning. It’s nearly eight o’clock now, and I can’t send any one out in a storm like this!”

“Nearly eight! Oh, Nan will be crazy! She said I’d get lost!”

The lady smiled. She was beginning to believe Helen’s story, though at first she had felt wary.

“I am Mrs. Lummis,” she said. “I live here and have lived here a long time. I’m sorry for you, and I’ll keep you over night. I won’t say, with pleasure, for as a matter of fact it will put me out considerably. But I’ve a little too much humanity to turn you out in this storm.”

Helen overlooked the coldness of the courtesy, in her relief at having found a safe, if not very hospitable shelter.

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said; “I hate to put anybody out – ”

“It seems to be a question between putting me out, – or, putting you out!” laughed Mrs. Lummis, “and I think it might as well be me. Come into my little drawing-room.”

Helen followed her into a small but prettily furnished room and Mrs. Lummis helped her take off her wraps.

“Now wait a minute, and we’ll ferret out the mystery.”

The hostess took a telephone book from a stand. “What’s the name of the friend you’re after?”

“Mrs. Wheeler, but she has a private wire. You can’t get her number. I had it but I lost it, and Central positively refused to tell it to me.”

Again Mrs. Lummis looked a bit suspicious. Then, with a whole-souled burst of enthusiasm, she said, “I don’t care if your story is fishy, – I believe in you, and I won’t ask you any more questions.”

“Oh, you think I’m an impostor!” Helen exclaimed, the fact just dawning on her. “Oh, how funny!”

Her laugh was so honest and so infectious that Mrs. Lummis laughed too, and the two became instant friends.

“But I hate to intrude worse than ever, now,” declared Helen.

“Oh, never mind. It can’t be helped. You can have my room, and I’ll bunk on the davenport. I live alone, and – and I expected a few friends this evening – ”

“Oh, I see. But I’m no spoilsport. Just tuck me into bed – oh, I wonder if I couldn’t go home – ” She ran to the window and looked out. “No; it’s a regular blizzard! And I must call up Nan! She’ll be frantic!”

“Who’s this Nan?”

Mrs. Lummis was a bit blunt, but she was kindly now, and Helen replied, “Oh, that’s where I’m staying. Mrs. Fairfield. I know her number, may I call her?”

“You’ll scare the wits out of her, if you tell her you’re in some strange house. But, – would she send for you?”

“I don’t know. It’s such a storm! She’d probably say if I’m safe under cover to stay here.”

“Well, tell her then.”

“But I know she’ll worry. She told me, you see, I’d get lost, – and I did. I don’t see how it happened!”

“I do. You got the wrong house. That’s certain. Maybe the wrong number or street – oh, say, didn’t you want East Ninety-fifth?”