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University of Virginia Library
PS3515.1486 J6 1928

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AH |FOS ETGRINNALDS—TWYFORD
COLLECTION PRESENTED TO THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
BY

MR. AND MRS. JEFFERSON C. GRINNALDS

AS A MEMORIAL TO HIS MOTHER

ROBERTA SARAH TWYFORDJOB’S NIECEJOB’S NIECE

   
  
 
    
    

BY

GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL

AUTHOR OF
COMING THROUGH THE RYE,

THE ENCHANTED BARN,
A NEW NAME, ETc.

 

GROSSET & DUNE AE
PUBLISHERS NEW YORKCOPYRIGHT, 1926, 1927, BY GOLDEN RULE COMPANY
BY

COPYRIGHT, 1927, Y J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANYJOB’S NIECE

CHAPTER I

At half past midnight Doris Dunbar was still sitting at
the desk in the library, her head bent over a paper on which
were many columns of figures. She was surrounded by piles
of bills in orderly rows, covering not only the top of the big
old desk, but also several neighboring chairs; a regular bliz-
zard of bills, long overdue, some of them many times dupli-
cated, with little impertinent foot-notes of reminders. The
lamplight fell on the slender figure touching to bronze the
hair that was folded in wide burnished bands about the sym-
metrical young head. That was the first thing that one
noticed about Doris, her glorious uncut hair,. that, neverthe-
less, did not give her an air of being out of date. When she
lifted her head to reach a fat pile of bills from one of the
large department stores, the light glanced sharply on the
white oval of her cheek and brought out the blue shadows
under her tired eyes, giving to her face a look of delicacy
that was almost startling.

Doris found the amount of another bill and set it down in
round clear figures below her last column, catching her
breath and drawing her delicate brows with a troubled frown
as she sent the forceful pencil through its calculations and
set down the appalling result. She paused a moment de-
jectedly and glanced up at the remaining piles of bills on her
left, shook her head sorrowfully, and then went at her task
once more, her pencil flying rapidly, until the sharp click of
=6 JOB’S NIECE

the latch in the door as it was released made her start and
look up.

In the doorway in her nightgown with a trifling pink
kimono flung about her shoulders, stood Doris’ sister, Rose.
Her arms were outspread from frame to frame of the door-
way as if she were half afraid and were clutching for sup-
port. There was a mingling of defiance and fright in the
attitude of her dark bobbed head, shingled close in the back
with one heavy wavy lock hanging over her left eye.

“Doris Dunbar, what on earth are you doing down here at
this time of night?” she challenged excitedly. “And in tis
room! The very first night Daddy was taken away! I
think you are terrible!”

Her voice broke in a sob and she tossed back the wavy
lock of hair resentfully showing big frightened eyes.

Doris half rose, startled, and looked at her with troubled
eyes.

“Why Rose, dear! I thought you were asleep!’

“Asleep! How could I sleep, with Florence carrying on
in her room across the hall, moaning like a sick baby? And
you, not coming to bed hour after hour! I don’t believe I
shall ever sleep again! I’m frightened! I don’t see what
life has to be this way for, anyway. It’s awful! I wish we
were all dead! I wish we'd never been alive!”

“Hush, dear! You’re all excited! Come, I'll put these
things away and turn out the light and we'll go upstairs.”

“T don’t want to go upstairs. I shall scream murder if I
have to hear Florence moan once more! I know I shall. I
can’t stand it!” And she suddenly slumped sobbing into a
chair.

“T can’t stay in this terrible room. I see Daddy’s dead
face all the time. Let’s go, quick! What are you waiting
for?”

“T must put these papers away, dear. It won't take butJOB’S NIECE

a minute. I can’t leave them out. Hannah is so curious.”

“What does it matter? What are they anyway?”

“They are bills, Rose, Daddy’s bills. Awful bills!’ she
said with a long drawn sigh and a return of the trouble to her
eyes. “But we don’t want Hannah to see them. She talks
so. She would tell everything she knew.”

“Bills?” said Rose resentfully. “What are bills? What
does anything matter now? Come, quick! I’m all trem-
bling! This room is terrifying! Why should you care about
bills? And _ to-night!’—reproachfully. “It doesn’t seem
respectful to Daddy.”

“They’ve got to be paid,” said Doris sorrowfully, “and Mr.
Hamilton is coming to-morrow to go over everything with us.”

“Well, let him pay them then, isn’t that a lawyer’s business?
It certainly isn’t yours.”

“It’s got to be somebody’s business, Rose, and you know
Florence isn’t in any condition to look after business.”

“Oh, Florence!” said Rose scornfully. “She isn’t in any
condition to look after anything and never was. I wonder
why Daddy ever married her.”

“Don’t!” said Doris sharply. “This is no time to criticize
our father. I know he thought he was doing it for our good.
I remember he told me so when I was a child. He said he
wanted me to know that he never would have brought another
woman to take our mother’s place if he had thought he could
bring us up right without a mother.”

Rose curled a trembling lip:

“Pretty mother she’s been! She’s nothing but a baby!”

Doris wheeled upon her sister:

“Rose, you must stop. It is not our place to go back into
the past and criticize. We must see to it that we don’t make
any mistakes ourselves, and I guess we will have enough to
do that way without trying to fix up mistakes of the past.
We're going to have to face some pretty big problems the8 JOB’S NIECE

next few days, and the less bitterness we have in our hearts
the better we can do it.”

“What do you mean, problems?” asked Rose blinking out
from under her lock of hair. “Is there anything I don’t know
about ?”

“I am afraid there are a good many things we don’t any of
us know yet,” sighed Doris, laying the neat piles of bills cross-
wise upon each other in the open desk drawer. “Here are
all these first, and they’re bad enough. Rose, there are over
three thousand dollars worth of just Jittle bills here, and some
of them have been running for months, and as many as five
or six notices have been sent begging for the money.”

“But I don’t understand! Why didn’t Daddy pay them?”

“I’m afraid he didn’t have the money, dear,” Doris
answered in a sad little voice.

“How ridiculous!” flamed Rose. “Daddy was rich! Why,
look at the mink coat he bought Florence at Christmas! Look
at the rock crystals he bought me,—and your little car.”

Doris spread out her hands pathetically :

“The bills for them are all here, Rosie, every one! And
your silver slippers, and the hats we got last Fall, and the
new dining-room set, and Ned’s radio—all! Everything
that’s been bought lately! And there’s only one payment
made on mycar! Itisn’t mineatall! They have threatened
to take it away! Oh, Rose!”

“T can’t bear it!” screamed Rose. “Let’s get out of this
room! I don’t believe it! Daddy wouldn’t do a thing like
that !”

“Daddy didn’t mean to, I’m sure. Things got tangled up.
He couldn't help it, I’m positive. There was some invest-
ment that failed—I’ve gone far enough to find that out.
Come, I’m ready now.”

“Well, why don’t we pay them right away then?” askedJOB’S NIECE

Rose half angrily. “I’m sure I don’t think it’s nice toward
Daddy not to get them paid up. Couldn’t Mr. Hamilton sell
something? Didn’t Daddy have bonds and things?”

“T don’t know yet,” said Doris miserably. “I’ve only found
debts.”

“Doesn’t Florence know?” asked Rose sharply. “It’s her
place to. She was his wife. Have you asked her?”

“She goes into hysterics whenever I speak of it. I tried
twice yesterday. And she would order the most expensive
things for the funeral. I couldn’t seem to make her under-
stand. You see, Mr. Hamilton had hinted to me that Daddy
was in trouble financially, but that he would see us through
till things were straightened out. It is awfully embarrassing.”

“But what did Florence say when you told her?”

“Oh, she just cried and said that I was dishonoring my
father by not wanting to have everything just as it ought to
be for his funeral. I had to stop.”

“Of course you did, Dorrie! She’s a selfish pig. She
could understand if she wanted to. She doesn’t want to see
things as they are. Daddy has kept things smooth and com-
fortable for her all these years and now she thinks we ought
to. But I’m not going ¢

Doris stopped the words by laying a soft hand over her
sister’s lips:

“Don’t, dear! I can’t bear any more to-night. Come, let’s
go to bed. You come over into my room and then you can’t
hear Florence so clearly. I wonder why Ned doesn’t come?
He might have stayed at home to-night !”’

“T should think so!’ said Rose indignantly. “He’s
another! He wants his way always smoothed before him.
Have you told Ned?”

“Yes, I tried to tell him a little before dinner to-night while
Florence was upstairs, but he just had time to whistle and10 JOB’S NIECE

say, ‘Hard luck Kid,’ and that was all. Then Florence came
in and began to fuss about dinner not being ready on time, and
after dinner he went out.”

“Yes, that’s the way Ned always does, just acts as if
everything ought to go on right without his doing anything.
Just shirks all responsibility no matter what comes. He
makes me tired. I don’t see why we have to have all this
trouble.’ And Rose caught her breath in a sob again.

“Hush, dear! You'll wake the children. They must be
asleep.”

“Oh, yes, I heard John talking in his sleep. He kept the
radio going till I thought I would go wild, some man telling
how to make an aeroplane or something. I went in and
turned it off and then I heard him calling out in his sleep
something the man had said. He’s an awful kid. Florence
just hates him. I heard her say he’d simply got to go away
to school now Dad was gone, she couldn’t have him around.”

Doris’ round chin set firmly:

“Well, he won’t go off to school,” she said decidedly.
“Not if Florence has to go herself.”

“How’'ll you help it?” asked Rose, nestling down com-
fortably in her sister’s bed. “When Florence sets her mind
on anything she’s an awful bore till it’s accomplished. By
the way, Jean has a sore throat,’’ Rose roused to say. “I
made her gargle with salt and water when she went to bed,
but I guess somebody ought to do something if we don’t want
her to get tonsilitis again.”

“Of course!” said Doris in a weary voice. “I wonder
what I did with that medicine. Oh, here it is. I'll go in
and give her some. You go to sleep, Rose, I'll be back in a
minute,”

Rose, comforted, nestled down once more among the
pillows and was soon asleep, a tear still glistening on her
round smooth cheek. Only sixteen and so eager for life.JOB’S NIECE 11

Tears did not seem to belong on the velvet of her radiant
skin. One longed to shelter and defend her. There was a
sweet petted droop to her rosebud mouth as she slept, one
rounded arm thrown back over her head on the pillow, the
soit rippling lock of hair straying over her white forehead
boyishly, the breath coming gently between the parted lips.
Rose was beautiful to look at as a bud just opening.
Beautiful, and like something made to be taken care of, not
for use.

Doris sighed as she returned from caring for the little
ten-year-old sister, and stood for a moment looking at Rose,
with a sudden sickening conviction that while she might
sympathize more than Ned had done, there was little more to
be expected of her than of her brother in the way of real
help in this time of crisis.

Doris tock her braids down and brushed them slowly,
mechanically, trying not to hear the low monotonous moaning
from the front room, not realizing that a tear had stolen out
and was making its slow course down her cheek. She was
inexpressibly tired and downhearted. The future looked un-
bearably black. If only Ned were older, or would rouse to
the necessity of doing something about things!

She was just turning out the light when she heard the front
door latch, and throwing her kimono about her went to the
hall to speak to her brother. Somehow she longed inexpres-
sibly for a word, or even just a look of comfort and assurance.

But Ned came stumbling up the stairs without apparently
having waited to lock the door or turn out the light, his over-
coat still on, his hat on the back of his head.

She leaned over the railing and spoke to him in a low tone,
but he came straight on not seeming to notice her till he
reached the landing and was face to face with her. Then he
gave her a bleared vague stare with eyes that were blood-
shot and wild, and pressed past her rudely :12 JOB’S NIECE

“Get outta my way—” he grumbled thickly, “always some
women around in the way wherever a man steps.”

She stepped back sharply and watched him with startled
eyes. There had been an unmistakable odor of liquor as he
passed. Had Ned been drinking? Was there to be no end
to the horrors of this day? He was not himself! She had
never seen her brother like that before, nor thought it possible
for him to get into that condition!

She stood for a moment looking down the dark hall toward
his door, but no sound came save a dull thud as if he had
fallen fully dressed upon his bed and lain as he had fallen.

It seemed as if each moment passed like a century while
she stood and felt the foundations of her life quiver under
her. She did not cry out as she longed to do. She stood
perfectly still till her strength began to come back, and then
she went into her room and got into her bed. She felt heavy
all over like lead. She thought she would never be able to
sleep again. She could not even think. She was like one
stunned.

But outraged Nature will have revenge, and sleep presently
stole upon the poor burdened child and erased her troubles
for a little while.

Sometime before the first dawning of the morning she was
brought sharply back to consciousness by a terrific scream
piercing through her oblivion, shattering the darkness and
peace, and precipitating her spirit into turmoil and terror once
more.

She roused and sat up staring about her trying to remember
what had happened, and to identify the sound which had
roused her.

And now she knew it was her stepmother sobbing aloud and
calling out hysterical plaints of self-pity; a self-centred
woman giving way utterly to her nerves, unable or perhapsJOB’S NIECE 13

unwilling, to take command of herself and behave in a
womanly way.

There was something terrifying, almost repulsive, in the
sound of that grown woman giving way to her feelings with-
out thought or care of those who suffered with her. She who
should have been their stay and comfort now in the loss of
their beloved father had turned baby and forsaken them.

And now the remembrance came of the little sick sister
sleeping alone in the room adjoining the stepmother’s. She
would waken and be frightened. She must go to her! She
must do something to stop those horrible sounds! The
servant would hear! Her cheeks burned with shame. She
would talk about it outside the house. Why, the neighbors
would hear. They could hardly help it. It was like the cry
of a lost soul, a voice from the tomb. It must be stopped.

Doris sprang from her bed and, catching up her kimono,
went with swift steps toward her stepmother’s door.

It was open and Mrs. Dunbar lay with her arms spread out
across her bed crying and sobbing in a most blood-curdling
tone:

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh! I’m all aloooooo000-
one! I’m all alone in the world!
me?”

“Florence! Stop that this minute!” Doris spoke in a
calm commanding voice. But the moaning and crying only
grew louder.

Doris walked swiftly over to the bed, switched on the light
and bent over her stepmother, speaking quietly and pleadingly,
but the voice went on louder and louder, although that had
not seemed at first possible:

“What shall I dooooo? Oh-h-h! Whhhhhhat shall I do?”
she inquired in a frenzied scream. Doris saw that she was
quite beside herself, and that pleadings and commands were
alike useless.

Oh, why did you leave
~~ y14 JOB’S NIECE

With set lips she hurried across the room and shut the
window. Then she went swiftly to the bathroom and re-
turned with a pitcher of cold water.

She stood over her stepmother holding the pitcher and
essayed once more to reach her reason.

“Mother !”

Her voice was husky.

It was the first time she had ever called her “Mother.” It
had been Mrs. Dunbar’s wish when she was married that the
children should call her Florence. She said they would feel
more as if she were one of them if they did. Now it seemed
to Doris that she was forcing the very stronghold of her own
soul to speak that sacred word to this wild weak child of a
woman. But she forced herself to speak it again, more
clearly this time:

“Mother—please

She was interrupted by a piercing scream from the frenzied

 

 

\”?

woman.

“No! No! I won't be called that!” she sobbed and then
screamed again in rising crescendo.

Doris in her panic remembered an article she had once read
on hysteria and catching up the ice pitcher she flung its con-
tents straight into her stepmother’s face; then drew back
frightened at what she had done.

Mrs. Dunbar gasping and spluttering came upright at once
in her bed, her screams for the instant quenched, but her
anger rising swiftly:
girl!” she gasped, springing from her bed

 

“Y ou—wicked
and shaking her long drenched hair out of her blinded eyes:

“Vou wicked, wicked—girl! What would your father say
to your treating his wife this way? Oh-h-h! I’ve no one to
protect me,” she wailed with an angry sob.

Doris stood against the wall, the pitcher still in her hand,
the other hand pressed against her wildly beating heart, watch-JOB’S NIECE 1§

ing her angry stepmother, realizing that she had done an un-
pardonable act, and wondering if after all she had been
justified. She was half ready to fall on her knees and beg
her stepmother’s pardon, till the high plaintive tone rose into
a hysterical scream once more:

“I'm nobody, nothing in this house any more! You, who
ought to be my support and stay, your father’s eldest daughter,
—you are trying to drown me!—You c

But her eloquence was suddenly interrupted by a hysterical
giggle, and looking up startled Doris saw John in his pajamas,
his hair ruffled into a tousle, standing in the doorway, a broad
grin on his impish young face.

The stepmother heard the giggle and looked at the door-
way. While she looked there came the others, Rose in her
pink kimono, eyes dewy with sleep, little Jean trailing a
blanket around her, her eyes full of fright ; and back of them
all, his overcoat and hat still on, a strange dull look in his
glassy eyes, tottered Ned uncertainly.

There was an instant of utter silence as they faced each
other, and then Mrs. Dunbar, still gasping and spluttering,
roused to a full sense of her predicament:

“Get out of my room this minute,” she shouted furiously,
stamping her bare foot with as much dignity as was possible
in her drenched condition. “Get out! Every one of you! I
shall never forget this. Oh, you wicked, wicked girl! GET
Our!”

They melted precipitately before her violence and stood in
a huddled group in the hall, a kind of hysterical misery upon
them, while the echo of her slammed door reverberated
through the house.

John recovered first.

“Gee, but she looked funny!” he burbled. “You caught
her right in the middle of a scream, Dorrie!”

Doris shivered :16 JOB’S NIECE

“Oh, I ought not to have done it,” she said pathetically,
“but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Good work, Doris!” muttered Ned thickly. “Time the
old girl had a ducking! Wisht I’d been here to he’p you,”
and he stumbled back down the hall to his room. The others
looked after him with startled, questioning eyes. They had
never seen their brother like this before.

Doris suddenly roused to the fact that slim little Jean was
shivering :

“Get back to bed, quick, Kiddie. You'll get an awful cold.
Your feet are bare. Here, pull that blanket around you, and
hurry. I'll bring you a hot-water bottle.”

It was a half hour before Jean was soothed, quieted, warm,
and Doris crept back chilled and sorrowful to the bed where
Rose had already fallen asleep again.

Doris buried her face in the pillow and felt that life was
more than she could bear. She was borne down by a sense of
shame over what she had dared to do. She felt degraded
and humiliated, and the morrow loomed grim and portentous.
What further revelations and trials did it hold? What was
to become of them all?CHAPTER II

EIGHTEEN miles away on the other side of the city from the
Dunbar house, and quite on the outer rim of the most charm-
ing suburb, is a beautiful estate. At night the house seems
like a castle against the deep, starred blue of the midnight
sky. Half-hidden from view among the trees of the hill-
side, terraces lead down to velvet lawns, which stretch away
to wildness and sweet woods again before emerging to the
public road, as if the owner thought to make within, a retreat
as near to heaven as this world may hope to come. The
windows look away in one direction to a far river winding
silverly along for many miles in daytime, and at night, a
pathway for the boats with twinkling lights that ply back and
forth to the shadowy purple distant hills, or to the glimmer-
ing city in the distance.

It is still in this great house, and very restful, and the air
of the mountain is good to breathe. One wonders that so
near the city there is still left all this vast loveliness belonging
to one man.

There is a stately room of fine proportion, formally fur-
nished with marvellous treasures from the four quarters of
the earth, for formal occasions; a lordly dining hall where
many of the great of the day have dined in their time, and
where not a few of the questions of the day have been dis-
cussed, settled, and wires pulled that brought about nation-
wide crises.

But there is a living-room, long and wide and homelike,
with a great fireplace and deep chairs; where the flickering
flames are reflected in ancestral fenders and tongs and

2 1718

JOB’S NIECE

   

  

andirons of heavy brass, and the deep rugs hush the foot-
falls of the well-trained servants, who see that everything is

at hand when needed.

There the deep rich glow from shaded

lamps brings out the gleam of rare books in hand-tooled

bindings, books lining the walls half-way around. There a
grand piano stands with lifted lid like a beloved friend, and
the windows look out at night into the many stars.

In this room, that same night, long after midnight, sat

Angus Macdonald, facing a problem that perplexed him as
> , S I I I
truly as if he had the weight of the whole Dunbar family on

his shoulders.

Angus Macdonald’s paternal ancestors had made their
money in gingham, and there were no piles of unpaid bills
on the great Renaissance table just behind him, which held
the costly lamp of carved jade. The price of some of the
trifling ornaments on the cabinet across the room, or even
the worth of a single one of some of those rare old volumes
in the bookcase would have cleared all Doris’ bills away and
left her something over, to live on. So his trouble was not

financial.

But Angus Macdonald’s maternal ancestors had made their
brains living on oatmeal porridge in attics while they carved
their brilliant sturdy way through the University; and they
had left him a heritage of wisdom and common sense, and
worst of all a conscience, which is a hard thing to have to
carry around in these modern days. Angus could not go the
way of all the earth and be satisfied. He had to measure
and mark his going by the old rule of right and wrong, by the
rule of love and the fear of God.

And there was a girl—there has always been a woman,

since the days of Eve, who lends herself to the devil’s use

 

a

girl, beautiful as the morning, who might have been a
daughter of Lucifer himself so fair she was, so sparkling, so

daring, so full of symmetry both of mind and body, she wasJOB’S NIECE 19

like a wonderful magnet drawing all men to her side and
holding them. She had drawn him.

Why did she want him? He was not her kind. There was
not in her the fear of God nor the knowledge of right and
wrong. They were to her but ancient traditions, lingering
remnants of a time when the world was in its infancy. She
laughed his traditions and sanctities to scorn with a voice like
a silver ribbon and a smile like the light of a star, and bade
him race with her down a long green sward of joyous fancy.
She said there was no such thing as right and wrong. Right
was your own will. Wrong was to be subservient to any one
or anything. She had teeth like perfect pearls that caught
the lustre of the day when she smiled. Her hps were ruby
red. The kind of red he knew was unnatural. Theoretically
he hated it. Yet he found himself fascinated by the curl of
those same vivid lips, so perfectly formed, so emphasizing the
natural charm of the flesh as to call attention to their per-
fectness. Her sinuous slim body clothed in exquisite films
of garments that revealed her grace of motion was adorable.
Her costumes did not seem reprehensible, as they would have
done if worn by some more awkward sister. They were a
part of her, as if they were born with her, as if she were
clothed in a garment of light. So subtly had she led him on
that his very disapproval openly voiced toward the abbreviated
garments of other fashionable women, refused to come and
stand as witness against her when his conscience called.
What was there about Tamar Engadine that always made him
excuse whatever she did? »He knew her ways were not his
ways, her habits of life all wrong according to his standards.
Yet more and more she was coming to seem the one altogether
desirable in the whole world for him, and he was beginning
already to plan how he might induct her into his ways ot
thinking, mould and fashion her into the strong true woman
he desired for his mate. It all seemed perfectly possible,20 JOB’S NIECE

when he looked at her; and yet he had made little headway
so far in moulding her. In fact when he was with her she
almost seemed to have moulded him, sturdy Scotch stock
though he came from. What didit mean? Would it always
be so? Would she mould and lead him, not he her, if their
ways led together?

It had been weeks since any such thoughts had come into
his mind. He had been led hither and yon in her golden
wake. She had said come, and he had gone. From one to
another of her habitual frivolities he had been her attendant,
well pleased to be doing her will; humoring her whim of the
moment while he watched her and thought what it would be to
have her for his very own, that loveliness made sacred for
him, his to care for and cherish. She would not want to flit
from one man’s arms to another when she was his and had a
home of her own. Now she was like a sparkling iridescent
bubble mirroring the rainbow, floating in the sunshine. Then
she would be like a perfect flower blooming always in his
garden, blooming especially for him, the complete fulfillment
of which the rainbow bubble was but the promise. That was
how he had explained it all in his mind as he went from place
to place with her, waiting while she toyed with life, as one
attends a lovely child in her games and smiles indulgently,
knowing that she will presently grow up and be as eager about
real things.

But to-night he had had a sudden jar which had brought
him to consciousness, the immediate cause of this vigil by his
own fireside. To-night, for the first time in many weeks, he
had not been her attendant. An important business visitor
from abroad, passing through the city for a few hours, and to
sail for home to-morrow morning, made it necessary for him
to call off his engagement for at least part of the evening with
the promise that he would drop in later if the guest left in
time. When the guest departed earlier than he had expected,JOB’S NIECE 21

and he sought Tamar’s home expecting to make more elaborate
apologies than he had had time for over the telephone, earlier
in the day, and hoping he would find her alone for once that
they might have a cosy talk together—hoping many things
from this, his heart beating high—he had found only a cool
little note.

“Have gone with Bobbins to the Pine Tree Inn. Come if you
get back in time. Tam.”

He had frowned as he read it and felt almost vexed with
her. Then she had not cared to wait for him, although he had
suggested that he would get away as early as possible. There
had been no vision of a quiet evening hour together in the
firelight in her scheme of things. She had gone with another
man as lightly as a butterfly. And such a man! Colonel
Robertson. Why should she persist in calling that ass
“Bobbins”? So ridiculous! And the Pine Tree Inn! Did
she not remember what he had told her about the place being
common? He had been almost vexed with her.

But he had followed ; and before he reached the end of his
long chilly drive he was hugging it to his heart that she had
asked him to come. She had not been satisfied with the
colonel. Child that she was she had gone where any fun was
offering, but she had wanted him to follow. He saw himself
rescuing her from the commonness of the Pine Tree Inn and
whirling her away to the cosy fireside of his dreams after all.

He had reached the piace at last, secluded enough for the
most unscrupulous, and found his way to a gallery where he
might look down on thé gay company and get his bearings.

He found her almost at once, the centre of all eyes as
usual. But she wore a more daring costume than any he had
ever seen her wear before. He rubbed his eyes in a daze and
looked again before he would believe it. Her cheeks were
brighter, and her lips too, than he had ever seen them; and22 JOB’S NIECE

as he watched her dance with the obnoxious colonel the scales,
as it were, fell from his eyes. A hot wrath burned within
him as he saw her yield herself to the intimacy of her com-
panion, caught a look that passed between them, not the look
of the innocent child with the rainbow bubble as he had
imagined, and then they disappeared beneath the gallery.

He had heard them coming up the stairs and had withdrawn
behind a heavy curtain as they passed. Almost he could have
reached out and touched the lovely bare arm. The breath of
perfume that she wore was wafted subtly in his face. A care-
less sentence, unguarded as never before in his presence,
dropped on the air beside him and entered his soul like a
knife. Somehow he saw her in a new light, and his soul
turned sick within him. The impulse that had seized him to
reach out and draw her away from her companion, run with
her to the ends of the earth and never stop until she was safe,
rescue her from a situation that he had thought by this time
would have become unbearable, passed. He knew now that
she did not want to be rescued; that she had come here
because she wanted to come; that she liked common things
because she was common herself. At least he thought he
knew that.

He thought so until he had come at racing speed several
miles away from the place without having been seen by the
lady at all, thought so till the fires of wrath and jealousy and
hurt pride had burned themselves out, and something within
suggested that he should have stayed and seen it through,
rescued her if need be, and that he had misjudged her. He
tried to conjure up his former thought of her, but in spite
of all, the vision of the jazzy little rag of a frock she wore,
the look in her eyes, the words on her lips, remained, and here
he was sitting the hours through and having it out with him-
self.

The question was, had he discovered his mistake in time orJOB’S NIECE

was he bound by ties he could not break? And if so—he
faced the question frankly for the first time—was he prepared
to marry her and bring her here? Would she ever fit with
his mother, his delicate, fragile, fine little mother, who would
be wrecked for life if her son brought home a bride unfit for
his traditions.

He tried to think that he could change her, even if she was
not all that he had at first fancied her. He revisioned the
gleam of her sparkling laughter, the flash of the pearly teeth
between the red lips, and tried to place her in the chair op-
posite him with his mother sitting where he was. He got up
and paced back and forth through the length of the beautiful
apartment, and fancied them all three spending an evening
together. Tamar would go to the piano and play and sing
as she often did, in a wild sweet voice, some foolish little song.
But what would his mother think of the songs that Tamar
sang? She would call them “wicked” or “vulgar”—Tamar
wasn't vulgar, was she? Just modern. He had heretofore
thought of it in that way, “modern!” Or stay. He remem-
bered that he had been startled, almost shocked, the first time
he heard her sing her daring songs, and turned away dis-
pleased—gone home without speaking to her again—that was
the first night he had met her. Well—he had met her again,
and the songs had become familiar, so that now he could even
laugh with the others at the unholy ending. He had ceased
to feel that she realized the import of the words she was
using. He had excused her, called her “unmoral,’ that new
word behind which modern frankness hides and masquerades
as harmless.

But here, to-night, in his home, with all its traditions and
habits of thought, with his saintly lady mother asleep up-
stairs in her peaceful room, he looked the truth in the face
and wondered that he had been deceived so long.

Sometime in the course of his perambulations he pausedJOB’S NIECE

beside the table long enough to notice a pile of mail that lay
under the light of the carved jade lamp awaiting his notice.
The postmark on the top letter began a digression in his mind
and he picked it up and opened it.

It was a most flattering invitation from an influential
business connection offering to put into the hands of his firm
a difficult and extensive piece of research and investiga-
tion abroad, and suggesting that if possible he undertake the
supervision of the work personally. It was both an honor
and an opportunity for him to make a name for himself not
only in the business world in which he moved, but in the
wider field of science, and a line which interested him exceed-
ingly. His ambition leaped to respond to the opportunity.
He read the letter again and then began to pace back and forth
in the room once more, coming to a halt at the bay window
that overlooked the brow of the hill and afforded a wide
view of sky and city in the distance. To the observer there
was scarcely a dividing line where stars ceased and lights
began. It was all starred alike, a wonderful world of dark
mysterious blue, jewelled from end to end.

He flung the casement window open and stood drawing
in deep breaths of the cold night air, expanding his lungs
to the full and finding a growing calm upon him. He felt
as if he had stepped into another, wider world, a universe
indeed, filled with opportunities and infinities. A place vastly
different from the little giddy round in which he had been
lately circling with Tamar.

Tamar! How far away she suddenly seemed. And if he
should accept this offer of the letter how kindly that would
solve his problem. To go abroad for a number of weeks, or
even months perhaps if it took so long to complete his mis-
sion, would tend to clarify the situation and also his mind.
He would be among new surroundings and other people. He
would get a wider viewpoint. And when he returned ifJOB’S NIECE 25

Tamar was the real Tamar he would know. If she were
what she had seemed to-night it would be plain after an
absence. Did he not owe this to himself, to his mother, to
the traditions of his ancestors—yes, even to Tamar? There
must be no delusions when he married. He came of fine
clean stock where integrity and true worth counted more than
show. He had no right to ignore those things, even if he
desired to do so. If Tamar really cared for him, if she were
ready to be the woman who would be his true mate, the
absence could not make any difference. True, she might be
in danger of being led into foolishness without his steadying
presence, but if he could not trust her before marriage how
could he hope for happiness afterward? And had he any
right to save her from foolishness at the expense of wrecking
life’s happiness for both of them?

These were the thoughts that came to him as he stood under
the stars, and let his well-trained conscience ask him questions
as it had not had a chance to do for many a dazzling week.

The stars were beginning to pale when at last he turned
and closed the window and went up to his room. He had
fully decided now to accept the offer and go abroad at once,
if the matter worked out satisfactorily with his partners when
he went to his office in the morning. There was just one
point about it all that troubled him—and that was his mother.
Since his father’s death some two years before she had not
been at all well, and it seemed to him that she grew frailer,
week by week. If she would go with him, the difficulty
would be solved. It would probably do her good to have a
sea voyage and visit some of their relatives in Scotland. But
he lay down at last to snatch a few hours’ sleep with a dubious
sense that he was basing his plans on an exceedingly frail
possibility. He knew his mother, and he knew she hated to
leave home. Particularly since his father’s death had she
withdrawn within herself, refusing to go out among herJOB’S NIECE

acquaintances, or to invite much company to the house. She
was not hard nor morose nor crabbed, just sad and sweet and
tired most of the time. He knew that her only remaining
pleasure now was to have him come and chat with her. It
made the only bright spot of her day. It would be next
to impossible for him to go and leave her alone with serv-
ants. It seemed an impassable barrier unless she would con-
sent to go. He must find a way to get her to accompany
him.

But when the morning came and he went to her room for
his regular morning call he broached the matter and found
her firm. She would not take a sea voyage. She could
never go back to the old places where she had once gone with
his father. She did not feel up to the journey.

But when she heard of the invitation she brightened per-
ceptibly over the honor, and urged him quite eagerly to go,
saying she would not mind staying alone a few months. He
would write to her, and she would think up a way to make
the time go rapidly. She seemed to be more interested in
the proposition than in anything that had happened since his
father’s death. There was a feverish eagerness in her eyes
as if she really were anxious to hasten his departure. It
perplexed him.

He arose at last to go, for it was getting late, but his mother
put out a detaining hand and looked at him wistfully as if
there were something more behind her words than just their
casual question:

“Is there—does anyone else—I mean are any of your
—social

 

acquaintances going over at the same time?”

He looked at her keenly, noted the wistful anxiety in her
eyes, and it flashed upon him that perhaps someone had told
her about Tamar. Poor little mother, she would not under-
stand Tamar—not as she was. With a sudden tenderness he
stooped and kissed her soft rose-leaf cheek:JOB’S NIECE 27

“No, Mother,” he answered, “not that I know of. I
haven’t time for society this trip. I want to work hard on
the way over, if I go at all, to have the subject well in hand so
that I shall not waste any time when I get to work.”

He stooped and kissed her tenderly and pressed her hand
as if to reassure her, and her answer made him doubly
certain that she must have had some such idea as he had
thought, for she sighed happily, with a flash of her old-time
smile, and answered:

“Then I’m glad to have you go. There are no people now-
adays that belong with my son. Perhaps you will find some
over in the old country. I sometimes feel lonesome for you,
my dear. You are fine and I want you to stay so.”

He thought of her words tenderly on his way in town.
Dear little mother; she was fine! And she understood so
many things about his soul. She always had. Strange he had
expected to hide this matter of Tamar from her till he was
sure what he meant to do.

But what about his mother? If he went he must make
some plan to fill her days with brightness while he was gone.
He could not do good work and feel that she was lonely and
sad without him. Over and over he reviewed the list of
their acquaintances and kinfolks and rejected each one.
There was not one who was free to come to his mother, whom
he felt would be the right one to cheer her loneliness, or whom
she would like to have.

When he reached the office he had almost made up his mind
to give up the whole matter and send someone else in his
place, but when he laid the matter before his partners they
were most insistent that he was just the one for the work and
went on making their plans so persistently that he began once
more to think about what to do for his mother.

But when he admitted reluctantly that he would be glad
to go if it were not for leaving his mother in loneliness, and28 JOB’S NIECE

put the situation to his partners, they swept his objections
aside with a wave of their hands and uttered the cryptic
words:

“Advertise, man, advertise! You can get anything in this
world if you advertise in the right way for it.”

So Angus Macdonald sat down at his desk, while they
busily plied him with suggestions about his journey, and
wrote an advertisement. He sent it by his office boy to the
newspaper, and then whirled about with this remark and a set
of his firm Scotch jaw they knew meant business:

“Now, go ahead with your suggestions, but if I don’t get a
satisfactory answer to that before to-morrow night I don’t
go! Just put that down fora fact. I mean it!”CHAPTER III

Mrs. Dunzar did not come down to breakfast the next
morning after the excitement, and haughtily declined the
dainty tray which Doris brought up to her door.

Rose was still in bed and Doris carried the tray to her.

“You were a fool to take all that trouble for her, Dorrie,”
averred Rose, stretching her pretty arms above her head and
yawning. “You just spoil her. That’s what makes her so
babyish. If I were you I’d just let her alone and let her
come to her senses.”

But Rose ate the appetizing breakfast gratefully with
never a thought that it might be spoiling her, and Doris went
down for a few moments more wrestling with those awful
bills in the desk before the lawyer should arrive.

Mrs. Dunbar did not make her appearance until they were
all seated in the living-room, and Mr. Hamilton was un-
strapping his brief-case and taking out formidable looking
papers.

She came in like a small black wraith, in deep mourning,
with a heavily black-bordered handkerchief pressed to her
eyes, and dropped into the big upholstered chair which had
been left vacant for her.

Doris was seated on the davenport with little Jean nestled
close to her, her hand in hers; and John, his hair in unwonted
slickness, at the other end looking uncomfortable and un-
concerned. It seemed wholly unnecessary to John that he
should attend this function. What was law business to him?

Ned was sitting by the front window, his back to the room,
2930 JOB’S NIECE

a sulky unhappy look on his lean, young face. He had not
breakfasted nor spoken to any of them. His greeting to the
lawyer had been abrupt and embarrassed, almost as if he
were ashamed of being there. Doris watched him sadly and
wondered whether she would dare say anything about last
night when she had a chance to speak to him alone. Then the
lawyer rustled his paper, cleared his throat, and began to read
the will, and she turned to listen. There was a tense stillness
in the room while the stilted old phrases rolled on monot-
onously: “I, John Edward Dunbar, being of sound mind.
do will and bequeath,” etc., on down to the details of a
modest fortune: five shares in this railroad, ten shares of
stock in a prosperous manufacturing plant, a number of
United States bonds, several real estate mortgages, a TOW of
city houses well leased, twenty shares in a silver mine, as
many more in an oil well, and interest in a heating and light-
ing plant,—quite a proud array. Doris began to take new
heart of hope. Perhaps after all her fears had been ground-
less. Perhaps their affairs would not be hopelessly in-
volved after all. Perhaps she had misunderstood Mr.
Hamilton yesterday when he had warned her that things were
in bad shape. He might only have meant to prepare her for
some of these bills that she had found, and possibly other
creditors. But surely, surely all that long list of property
could not be tied up so that they would be in straitened cir-
cumstances. Oh, it would be so much easier if they were
going to have money enough to get along comfortably! Then
she would have leisure to give to the consideration of her
other problems, and her eyes wandered to Ned’s back again.
At the first casual reading the property seemed to be pretty
evenly divided between the widow and the children. Doris
felt relieved, for now no one need feel hurt or jealous—
Doris hated to have any of the family sulky about anything
like that—feeling that they had not been treated as well asJOB’S NIECE 31

the others. It always somehow fell to her to smooth out
their ruffled feelings. But surely everything was adjusted
perfectly fairly, and no one of them could complain, not even
Florence.

The house was mentioned last in the list, and it appeared
that Mr. Dunbar had only had a life interest in it, and that
it belonged to the children, it having been built as a wedding
present for their own mother by her father and left to their
father in trust for them.

When this clause of the will was read there was a per-
ceptible stiffening of the little black figure in the big up-
holstered chair, and a tightening of the white fingers that
held the black-bordered handkerchief to her eyes. She held
herself tense during the kindly clause in which the father
requested that his children give their stepmother welcome in
their house during her lifetime, and then she uncovered her
angry eyes, drew herself up scornfully, and said in a haughty
voice :

“Mr. Hamilton, I wish to give notice right here that I
intend to contest that will.”

Mrs. Dunbar,” the lawyer said gently, “just a minute ts

But the lady went on angrily:

“It is an outrageous will,” she declared, looking around
with blazing eyes on them all, “and it is perfectly plain to me
that there was pressure brought to bear on my husband while
he was too ill to know what he was doing.” She fixed
her furious gaze on Doris who had been his faithful nurse
during his last illness.

“Mrs. Dunbar, that is impossible!” broke in the lawyer.
“Did you not hear me read the date? This will was made
over five years ago when your husband was in perfect health.”

“That doesn’t make any difference!’’ said the angry lady.
“You can’t argue me out of my intention. I shall contest this
will. The property should all have been left to me. TheJOB’S NIECE

 

32
children are too young to look after business. My husband
always trusted me.”

“Mrs. Dunbar, I have not finished yet. Will you be good
enough to let me explain the whole matter fully? Iam sure
you will see that what I have to say changes the whole matter.”

Mrs. Dunbar had half risen from her seat as if the matter
were fully settled so far as she was concerned. Now she sub-
sided reluctantly into her chair with a resigned look on her
face =

“JT will listen of course,” she said with set lips, “but it will
make no difference with me. I intend to contest the will.”

The lawyer looked about on the children with a perturbed
expression, as if to apologize for what he was about to say.
One could see that he did not care for his job.

“T am very sorry to have to tell you that things are in bad
shape,” he said and hesitated with an appeal to each one
mutely before he went on. “T as Mr. Dunbar’s attorney, of
course necessarily knew more or less of his moves. Mr.
Dunbar had for the past two years been interested in a scheme
which if it had proved the financial success he believed that
:t would, would have more than doubled or perhaps trebled
the property he had to leave. I must say, in justification of
myself, that I did not have the strong belief that he had in
the men whom he trusted, and I feared greatly and urged a
more conservative move; but in his great anxiety to put his
family in luxurious circumstances before he died he went
into the transaction with everything he had.”

He paused and looked about on them to see if they were
prepared for the blow he was about to deal them. There was
breathless silence in the room. The widow had her handker-
chief to her eyes again, but otherwise sat rigid. Ned had
not turned around from his miserable gaze out of the window.
Doris’ heart began to palpitate with a wild fear, and little
Jean feeling the impending catastrophe in the atmosphereJOB’S NIECE 33

began to cry softly. Rose’s eyes were wide with consterna-
tion. Only John appeared indifferent, as he tied a cat's
cradle out of a handy piece of string from his pocket. John
might be understanding but he had no intention that anyone
present should know it.

The lawyer resumed his unpleasant task:

“Tt distresses me beyond measure to have to tell you that
your father’s scheme fell through and carried with it every-
thing he owned.”

He paused again and looked to see if they understood, or
if he must be still more explicit, but no one answered him.
They sat appalled—aghast.

“Even this house,” said the lawyer, gathering breath once
more. “Even this house, which your father held in trust,
had been mortgaged up to its full value.”

The silence in the room was like something tangible, as if
one could reach out and touch it.

Then when no one was noticing her, Mrs. Dunbar sud-
denly arose with a grand air of severity, and holding her head
high, loftily announced:

“Nevertheless, I intend to contest that will And so
saying, she swept from the room and they could hear her go
down the hall and up the stairs to her own room.

They all sat and looked at the door where she had gone,
except Ned who had not turned around yet. The lawyer, a
simple literal soul, stated the obvious fact: “She doesn’t
understand,” in a tone of deep wonder, and suddenly Rose
buried her face in her hands and broke forth in a clear hys-
terical laugh.

“She never understands anything, ‘nless she wantsta,”
unexpectedly contributed John. “Don’t mind her.”

There was another pause while the little company gathered
its senses and adjusted itself:

“Do you mean,’ asked Doris in a small anxious voice,

3

 

)34 JOB’S NIECE

“do you mean there won't be anything? Not even enough
to pay the bills? There are a lot of billk——”’ She made a
helpless gesture toward the library where the old desk stood.

The lawyer cleared his throat with a relieved air:

“Oh, there may be enough to clear those off,” he said hope-
fully. ‘There are a few little odd matters, not more than
fve thousand—if there is that—I’m not sure yet till I see
how much some of these little odds and ends are rated ale

“Then nothing else matters,” said Doris in a dull monot-
onous tone. “How soon will you know? There are at
least three thousand dollars worth of bills, and the people are
very insistent.”

“Suppose you let me have those bills, Miss Doris, and I'll
attend to them at once,” said the lawyer briskly, grateful at
her practical way of taking things.

Doris rose and went across the hall to the desk, returning
with a great sheaf of papers neatly separated into bundles and
fastened with rubber bands. The others sat still waiting for
the end, as if it were some sort of a service. Rose had
quieted her laughter and was looking white and drawn now.

“Won't we have anything to buy food with?” she asked,
her eyes wide with horror.

The lawyer flushed and put his hand to his pocket:

“Oh. Miss Rose, it isn’t so bad as that, not yet,” he said
embarrassedly, drawing out a roll of bills. “Here is a little
money, a matter of three hundred I'll be glad to advance to
help you out till you can look around.”

Rose felt tempted to laugh again as her quick perception
saw them all going forth and looking around to locate more
money. She was strained almost to the breaking point, poor,
pretty, spoiled Rose, and it seemed to her that the bottom
had fallen out of her world completely. Yet she would laugh
with the pain in her heart. That was Rose. Laugh in an
ecstasy of pain.JOB’S NIECE

Doris took the money and thanked him:

“You are sure that there will be this much over the bills >”
she asked anxiously.

“Oh, yes, yes, surely, surely,’
course, it’s perfectly all right.”

“Because if it isn’t, I will pay you back when I get some-
thing to do.”

“Oh, no, no! Don’t speak of it!” he said eagerly. “I’m
sure there’ll be a little more perhaps. But,’’ and he looked
after the roll of bills anxiously, “I wouldn’t speak of this to
Mrs. Dunbar if I could help it She might not—might not
understand.”

Doris flushed.

“She would not!” she said. “I shall not tell her. She
would want to buy a mourning ring with it.”

The lawyer looked at her a moment and a shadow of a
smile quivered around his conventional lips. He was not
quite sure from Doris’ grave expression whether she knew
or not that she had said something witty.

Doris went to the front door with the lawyer and as he
was about to leave he put out a kindly hand:

“T think you are a brave girl, Miss Doris,” he said. “Your
father would be proud of you.”

The kindly tone brought a sudden rush of emotion which
Doris with difficulty conquered. She lifted her head and
tried to smile as she thanked him. He hesitated an instant
and then said:

“Don’t blame your father, Miss Doris, he really thought
he was doing the best thing for you all. I was so nearly
persuaded myself that I had decided to put in all my savings
too, but the crash came before I had fully completed the ar-
rangements. I might have lost everything but for your
father. He grew anxious and told me to keep out. It was too
late for him to get out. It wouldn’t have been honorable, but

,

coughed the lawyer, “of36 JOB’S NIECE

I owe him a great deal. If there is anything I can do——”

Then Doris gave him one of her rare smiles:

“Thank you for that,” she said. “I’m so glad you don’t
blame Father. He was a dear father!”

“He was that,’ said the lawyer heartily, “and remember
I’m at your service if you need any help.”

“Thank you so much!” she said. “It is good to know we
have one friend. But I hope I shall not have to bother you.
After we get these bills paid the worst anxiety will be over.
Do you know how soon we have to get out of this house e

A shade of worry came over the lawyer’s face:

“The man wants to foreclose at once,” he said annoyedly.
“lve tried to put him off, but he wants his money. He's
building a house himself, and he wants to sell this one. He
says he has a purchaser. I'll hold him off as long as possible.
It really isn’t decent of him. But he had been hounding your
father for several months, and we just held him off, hop-

’)

 

ing

“Poor Father!” said Doris wistfully. “I’m afraid this was
what killed him, not the pneumonia.”

When the lawyer was gone Doris turned back into the hall
and looked at the familiar walls with a strange feeling. So
they were no longer her home. Others would walk and talk
and exist here. How strange and sad life was. How
terrible!

She went back into the living-room but Rose and Jean and
John were gone. Only Ned was left there still staring out
of the window, his shoulders hunched over like an old man.
Something in his attitude touched his sister. She came over
and stood beside him laying her hand on his shoulder.

He dropped his head upon the window-sill and groaned
aloud. She put her hand on his rough gold hair that had a
way of rumpling into curls wherever he would let it. She
had always been proud of her brother’s handsome head.JOB'S NIECE 37

Everybody admired him. Among his mates he was known
as a “looker.” She knew she was weakening now as always
at sight of him. No wonder he was spoiled. His personality
was most attractive even at his worst. And now as he sat
there in dust and ashes as it were she longed to put her arms
around him and comfort him. Yet she knew she ought not.

“What is it, Ned?” She tried to speak eravely but there
was more than a tinge of tenderness in her voice.

The young man lifted a haggard face and looked at her:

“l’m in an awful hole, Doris!” he said in a hoarse voice
that sounded quite unlike his usual cheery carefree tones.

Doris felt her heartbeats quicken with alarm. Then he was
going to tell her about last night. It would be good to have
it out in the open at least. But what had happened? Had
he been getting into a scrape, arrested or something? And
on the night of his father’s funeral !

“Ves?” she wavered out trying to make her voice seem
casual, but finding herself trembling in every fibre.

He looked furtively toward the door and then whispered
huskily :

“T’ve got to have some money right away !”’

“Money! Oh, Ned! And we have lost everything!
Why should you need money now!”

“T need three hundred dollars right away. I’ve got to
have it. Dorrie, didn’t old Ham give you some money just
now? Can’t you loan it to me?” he said desperately, “I
swear I’ll get a job to-morrow and begin to pay it back.”

Doris’ face blanched. This must be something desperate.
What had Ned been doing? But she couldn’t give up that
money that Mr. Hamilton had advanced to her. It would
be needed for their daily necessities.

While she hesitated he went on:

“This comes first, Kid, it really does. You'd give it to me
if you knew.” There was pleading and desperation in his38 JOB’S NIECE

tone. She saw that his face was chalky white and perspira-
tion stood in beads on his upper lip and forehead. He was in
deep distress.

“What is it, Ned?” she said earnestly. “You must tell
me everything or I can’t possibly help you. This money
means our daily bread.”

“T can’t tell you,” he said sullenly drooping his head once
more in anguish, “I can’t! You'll have to let me have the
money though or we'll all be in disgrace!”

“Disgrace? How could that be possible? Have you been
gambling, Ned Dunbar?’ Her eyes flashed a weary con-
tempt.

“No, I haven’t been gambling,” growled the desperate
youth with a hunted look.

“Well, you haven’t been stealing, or broken up somebody’s
automobile, or iE

 

“No!” said Ned sharply. “It’s none of those!”

“Then what,is it? -You’ll have to tell me if you want any
help.”

There was a long long wait during which Doris began to
feel as if the room was swimming round her and everything
was going black. But she stood her ground quietly waiting.
At last when it seemed that he was not going to speak she
turned to leave the room. Then he raised his head and gave
her a desperate look like one about to drown, who sees a
possible rescuer turning away:

“Well, then. I'll tell you. J gof married last night!’

He flung the words like bombs into what seemed to be a
great vault of stillness, in which not even a heart dared to
beat. They echoed around and up and down and rang deep
in the souls of the two. They seemed like an idle tale that
had nothing to do with these two, and yet they beat upon the
two young hearts and insisted on admission as a fact, those
awful words.JOB’S NIECE 39

It seemed to Doris that it must have been several minutes
before she gathered voice to echo that word incredulously :

“Married!”

And then again some space later:

“Oh, Ned! And we in all this trouble?”

The boy dropped his face upon his arms and sobbed aloud,
writhing as if she had struck him:

“That’s right! Rub it in!” he snarled like a wounded
animal. “As if I couldn’t think of that myself!”

“But— Ned, why did you? How could you have done
such a thing?”

“T don’t know!” moaned the frantic boy, “I was a fool, I
guess. We had something to drink and then they dared me
to do it. I didn’t realize fe

Doris in spite of herself gave a little moan, and dropped her
face into her hands trying to steady herself for this new blow:

“Oh, Ned!”

The boy got up furiously and strode to the door :

“Well if that’s the way you’re going to take it I better put
myself off the map.”

“Ned!” she sprang and caught his arm. “Sit down!” she
said sternly. “It is bad enough to do a thing like this with-

 

out being a coward and running off to leave the whole thing
for us to bear. At least be a man and face what you have
done. I certainly didn’t do it.”

Her biting words were like a dash of cold water in his face,
bringing him to his senses. He had been so used to having
his follies and mistakes condoned. He half expected Doris
to find a way out of this uncomfortable mess for him. To
have her take it this way, was worse than he had expected.
What he wanted her to do was to pity him, and blame the
girl, and then give him what he wanted.

But he had not calculated on the overstrained nerves of
Doris, nor the horror that would seize her at the form of40 JOB’S NIECE

torture he had brought upon the household. Married!
That seemed the culmination of all troubles. What was
there to do now but bear it?

After a moment she lifted sad eyes and looked at him as
he sat miserably waiting, trying to think of some excuse that
would bring him back her pity:

“T don’t understand,” she said in a voice full of pain and
bewilderment, “what has this to do with your wanting money ?
And how did you come to get into a place like this? Who is
the girl? Have you known her a long time? How could a
decent girl do a thing like that? Do I know her?”

“No!” said Ned sharply, his face stern and pinched looking,
his tone as one who has resolved to make known the worst.
“She isn’t your kind. You wouldn’t know her. There's
nothing so bad about her. But she’s not your kind. Her
name is Zoe Bullard. I’ve known her a few weeks. We'd
talked about getting married, but I didn’t take it seriously.
I thought it was more a joke than anything else. But she
took it in earnest. They all did. They got that preacher
from the little shingle church down on Phillips Street and
it was all sprung on me.

“And then her mother—her mother! appeared on the scene
and she said if I didn’t get her a diamond ring and take her
to a good home she’d have the whole story published in all
the papers. Doris! I'll have to get her a ring, and go hire
a furnished apartment or something. Her brother is a
pretty well-known prize-fighter and he'll be coming around
pretty soon to see where J am. He’s a brute if there ever
was one and -

 

The door-bell suddenly pealed through the house, and ap-
parently John had been on hand and opened it at once, for
Doris heard the voice of Milton Page, the young man to
whom she had been engaged for the past year. With stag-
gering heart Doris looked toward her brother:JOB’S NIECE 41

“Go upstairs, Ned, quick! and stay in your room till I
come,” she said ina low tone. “Milt is out there, and we've
got to think before we let anyone know about this.”

Ned rose as if he had been shot. He glared at his sister for
a passing instant:

“If you let that monkey know anything about me and my
affairs I’ll cut my throat and his tco. I swear I will. It’s
none of his business.”

“Go! Quick!” whispered Doris motioning toward the
door at the back of the room that opened into the back hall.

But Ned was already gone, and the door was opening on
Milton Page.CHAPTER IV

Mitton Pace was tall and spare, with cold blue eyes and
a calculating mouth. He was chief accountant for the city
Electric Company, and highly valued as an expert in his
line. He had the kind of mind which knew at once what was
the most economical move to make in any given direction,
and it hurt him abominably to see anyone move in any other
way than economically.

He was a handsome man, meticulously clothed and always
in condition. Not a hair out of place. He expected such
perfection in others. Yet he was a good man, a successful
man, and with a somewhat pleasing personality.

As he advanced into the room Doris became suddenly
aware that she was wearing her oldest pair of slippers, and
that her hair was awry. She tried to pull herself together, to
forget the terrors that were pressing upon her soul, and to
greet him with proper interest.

His lips felt cold upon her hot cheek, and it seemed as if
she was almost too tired to summon the quiet smile which
she felt he would expect. She knew that he admired her for
her self-control. He was not an emotional man. She had
always believed that he felt deeply himself but kept himself
well in hand so that others did not look beneath his always
pleasant mask of personality. She had been thoroughly con-
vinced that he cared for her before she permitted an engage-
ment; but just at this point somehow the engagement did not
seem to fit into the picture. It seemed the last straw to have
him come just now. How was she possibly to pull herself
back into life and he properly glad to see a fiancé when her
42JOB’S NIECE 43

whole world had collapsed into shame and sorrow, and the
future loomed dark with problems and perplexities ?

It never even occurred to her to tell Milton her troubles, to
lay her head on his strong shoulder to rest for a little while,
sure of his sympathy and help. Milton was one from whom
one hid all troubles and perplexities. His mind was so con-
structed that he simply had to lay his finger at once on the
spot that was to blame and blame it with all his might. One
felt guilty in his presence if anything was awry.

Doris’ one thought was whether Ned had really gone up-
stairs as she had begged him to do. She listened for his
step overhead with painful intentness and to the exclusion
of Milton Page’s cool studied tones:

“My poor child!” he said graciously, drawing her unresist-
ing to the davenport and sitting down beside her with a casual
arm about her: ‘This has been a heavy strain on you. I
wish I could have relieved you of some of the burden, but I
knew it was useless, so I kept away that you might have less
to take your attention. Iam glad itis over now. I hope you
had a good sleep last night. You must have been worn out.
It seemed to me both foolish and wasteful to carry your
father away off into another state just to bury him.”

“Tt was Father’s wish, Milton. He wanted to lie beside
our mother,” Doris explained gently.

“Yes, you told me that the day before yesterday.” Milton
Page was most exact. “But I repeat, it was both foolish and
wasteful. What difference can it make where a man’s dust
lies? And he could not know what you did with his remains
after he was gone.”

Doris shrank away from him involuntarily with a little
shiver :

“Oh, don’t!’ she breathed sharply as if his words had hurt
her.

“Why, Doris! What nonsense! You're not sentimental !JOB’S NIECE

That’s one thing I always liked about you, you were always so
sensible.”

“That isn’t sentiment,” said Doris, struggling with an’
ache in her throat. “It is right and fitting that people should
be buried where they request if it is at all possible. I liked
my father and mother to lie together.”

“Tt just shows,” said the young man didactically, “that you
are overstrained, that you should make so much of a litile
thing. It is high time you got away from it all, and I’m glad
to say that things are shaping up so you can. I got the letter
this morning from the West. The position is mine, and
they want me to come in two weeks. They suggested a week
but I wired them it would be impossible to get there under
two weeks. Of course we'll take the trip West slowly. I
do not see being hurried about anything. Can you be ready
by Thursday of next week?”

“Ready?” Doris lifted uncomprehending eyes. She had
just decided that she heard a footstep overhead, and was re-
lieved that Ned had not gone out again. He had looked des-
perate enough for almost anything. ‘There were tragedies
enough in the house without any more. But what was this?
“Ready?”

“Ves, ready. You don’t look as if you had been listening,
Doris. I suppose you are tired, but you’ve had a whole
night to rest, and, really, you know this is important. We
can’t very well wait. You can’t begin your preparations too
soon. There'll be little details that will be forgotten if you
put it off. It’s always well to get at a thing at once. I
thought we’d have the wedding in the morning, just our-
selves. Your sisters and brothers if you care to have them,
and my brother will stand up with us. You won’t want to
have a fuss so soon after a funeral. We can go to Dr.
Hillock’s study, and then we'll go in town for lunch and
start off that evening. If that suits you I’ll secure the reser-

9JOB’S NIECE 45

vations at once. You can’t be too forehanded this time of
year, there is so much westward travel now _

But suddenly Doris interrupted him, a startled look in her
eyes:

“Milton! You don’t mean— You're not talking about
our getting married! Now? Why, can’t you see how ut-
terly impossible that would be?’

There was distress in her voice. She had not been wont
to cross him. It seemed as if she was too tired to explain
it all out. He ought to understand it himself without that.
There were some things she could not explain—even to him—
things that would take time—and would they ever get
straight, she wondered sorrowfully? But he smiled com-
placently :

“T know,” he said, “I supposed it would seem a little sud-
den to you, but you’re a sensible girl, and you can readily see
that we cannot hold up a big corporation just for a whim.
As for the actual work there is to be done beforehand, I be-
lieve I’ve reduced it to a minimum. I’ve thought it all out
in detail. I feared you would be appalled at first, but when
I explain I’m sure you will see that I’m right, and you'll see
that it will really relieve you of a lot of useless fuss and
ceremony. In the first place you won't need any new clothes.
You can perfectly well be married in whatever you wear on
the street. You always look nice, and I never did believe in
a woman buying up and making a lot of things more than
she really needs. So all you'll really have to do is pack your
trunk. And I wouldn’t advise you to take a lot of truck
along either. Let’s go free. We'll probably board for the
first year, and we can look around and see what we want in
the way of a home, and then you can send back for whatever
you want that belongs to you.”

“Wait!” said Doris almost breathlessly. “Wait! It
isn’t for any such reasons I said | couldn’t go. I don’t care46 JOB’S NIECE

about clothes and trunks. I can’t go now! I can’t leav
here! Why don’t you see that? Why don’t you understand
that things are all mixed up and there’s a lot to do, and I
couldn’t be spared !”’

The young man’s face hardened perceptibly :

“Certainly I see that. I see that you are about to be made
a pack horse of, as usual, to carry this spoiled and babied
family into ease and idleness somehow. And it 1sn’t going
to be! You're engaged to me, aren’t you? Your first duty
is to me, isn’t it? Well, and J say you shant! I say a
time has come to call a halt on what has been going on for
years. You and your precious father have gone on spoiling
and petting that lazy stepmother, and those idle good-for-
nothing brothers and sisters of yours, until they can’t lift a
finger for themselves; and now the time has come when I
step in and assert my rights. I’ve waited a year and a half
for you since we were engaged, and now I have the offer of
a good position with a salary that will make us more than
comfortable, and I don’t intend to wait any longer. If our
engagement means anything it means that I have a right to
demand that you go with me now. Besides, if you're to be
my wife I don’t want you to be all used up and your beauty
all gone before we’re married. I want you now while you are
well and strong and have your good looks.”’

Doris suddenly rose from the circling arm and stood out
away from him:

“Milton, I never heard you talk like this before. You
don’t seem like yourself. It seems terrible, the things you
are saying.”

“T’m sorry, dear, but they’ve got to be said. I’ve thought
it all out and I made up my mind that we might as well un-
derstand things now in the beginning. I’m not going to have
your family hung around your neck all the rest of your life.
They can come and visit you of course at reasonable intervalsJOB’S NIECE 47

—all but Mrs. Dunbar. I draw the line at her, And I’m not
very anxious for John to come. He’s a rude boy. Perhaps
he'll grow up some day. I have my doubts. But you’re not
going to stay here and work for them. They’re all old
enough to look out for themselves, except perhaps Jean, and
your stepmother ought to be gracious enough to look out for
her for the next six or seven years. If she doesn’t there are
good schools, and I’d be willing to have her come to us for
vacations, sometimes, if that would please you.”

“Milt! Stop!’ said Doris her eyes angry now, her face
white and strained. “I don’t like the way you are talking.
You are saying things I never can forget!”

“T don’t want you to forget them, Doris,” said Milton quite
kindly. “It is best to have these things settled finally, and I
am saying them all for your good. You will be happier to
understand them, and when you are calmer you will thank
me for making you see the truth.”

“Perhaps I shall,” said Doris with a strange calmness in
her voice. “At least I think you have said enough for this
time. But you must understand this. I cannot possibly
think of getting married at this time. It does not seem decent
in you to think I could desert them now when everything has
gone wrong.”

“Now look here, Doris,” broke in Milton with a tone of
annoyance, “I’ve explained my position perfectly frankly to
you. There isn’t the slightest need for you to take that atti-
tude. You understand entirely that I want to save you, and
I intend to save you. You are my responsibility, and the
rest of this family are not. I have felt for a long time that
if they had to look after themselves they might amount to
something, but they never will as long as you are their will-
ing slave.”

A sudden noise overhead of a chair falling and a window
raised made Doris start and look around nervously.48 JOB’S NIECE

“There!” said the young man triumphantly. “See how
nervous you are. I really must assert my authority and in-
sist that you come out with me and take a ride. Then we
can talk this thing over more at our leisure and perhaps stop
and get a few things out of the way that have to be done be-
fore we leave. You must remember that the time is short.”

But Doris had drawn back, her mouth a firm little line of
intention, her chin just the least bit haughty:

“Milton, you have no authority over me,” she said ear-
nestly. “I must do what I think is right. It is my own
conscience that I must follow, and if you really love me you
will not hurt me by talking this way.”

The young man’s face hardened stubbornly :

“Doesn’t that ring you wear give me the right of authority ?”
he asked sternly.

Doris looked down at the diamond that glittered on the
third finger of her left hand. The ring which had given her
so much pleasure when he first placed it there, and then
looked up at Milton half frightened, half questioning:

“No,” she said, “I never felt that it gave you authority.
If I did I would take it off and give it back to you. Nobody
has the right of authority over another human being who is
grown and of sane mind. Especially where a matter of
right and wrong is concerned.”

“But this is not right,” asserted the hard, thin lips.

She looked him steadily in the eye:

“And you think if I differ from you that I must do as you
think even if I know you are wrong ?”

“That isn’t possible, Doris, because I am not wrong. When
you gave yourself to me u

“TI have not given myself to you yet, Milt. We are not
married. But even if I had, if I thought you would insist on
my doing what I feel to be wrong I should not do it.”

“But it would be your duty sJOB’S NIECE 49

“Then I will never put myself in a position where that will
be the case,” said Doris firmly, her eyes meeting his steadily.

“Why Doris! I thought that you professed to love me.
I never heard you talk in this insane fashion before. You
certainly need rest badly. Come, get your hat and coat and
we will go out for a ride. The cool air will do you good and
you will be able to see things more rationally.”

Doris felt as if the floor were reeling under her tired feet,
but she knew she must control her nerves. If he would only
go now and let her get up to Ned, and find out what to do.
But he was waiting, urging her gently but firmly toward the
door. He would call Rose to get her hat and in a moment
more she would find herself whirling away in his car in spite
of herself. It had always been so that he could persuade her
into doing his will. It had not seemed to matter before. She
had rather enjoyed it to be overpowered and carried away to
something pleasant that he wanted to do. But now all
seemed changed. She had a great responsibility and every
moment was precious. No knowing how many more calam-
ities were brewing in her family. She could not cut loose
from them all and go her way. She loved them. She had
not known till she heard him talk how beloved they all were,
how part of the fibre of her very soul. Leave them?
Never! Not while they needed her.

She halted in the middle of the room and faced about to
his urging hand:

“Wait!” she said, “I will tell you. You do not understand
or I am sure you would not wish to seem so utterly without
heart. We are in great perplexity here. We have to move
out of this house. We do not own it as we supposed, and we
have no money, except just barely enough to pay the bills.
We have got to find a place in which to live, and to find work
for those of us who are able to earn, in order to support the
family. Now, do you see how impossible any of your’ plans

450 JOB’S NIECE

are? Even though as you say you are doing this out of kind-
ness toward me, do you not see how utterly impossible it is for
me to leave here at this time?”

“Certainly not,” he said dryly. “I practically knew all this
before. Your father went on in his foolish senseless way
getting involved more and more. I knew the end had to
come sometime, and it was just like him to slip out of it all
and leave it for others to shoulder. And it was just for this
reason that I have said what I did. I don’t intend you shall
pay the piper, and what is more I don’t intend to shoulder
his family for the rest of my lifetime. I take it that job be-
longs to your stepmother. She married him, didn’t she?
You gave your promise to marry me, didn’t you? Well,
then! Your responsibility for your father’s family ceases.
You belong to me!”

Doris was white with amazement and repulsion. She
opened her mouth to answer him and closed it again. Was
it worth while answering anyone who could talk that way?
He blamed her dead father to her face? Well if he were
to blame, that was no way to speak of it, and notime. Could
anyone love her and yet dare to speak that way of her father
the very day after his funeral? She looked at him and his
face suddenly seemed to have changed from the man she knew
and thought she loved into a cold formal mask. Avarice and
selfishness seemed to gleam in his eyes, in the hard lines
around his perfect mouth, in the very set of his chin. He
was professing to be saying all this for her sake, but could
that be? Could one love a person and not love at all those
they loved? Or did he just love her because he had chosen
her for his own? He was really loving himself, then, not
her!

‘his was an impression, not a distinct thought, but her
soul recoiled from it as if it had been a tangible thing.

Then she roused herself to speak:JOB’S NIECE 51

“T do not belong to you. I gave my promise to the man I
thought you were, not to the one you have appeared to be this
morning. You have forfeited your right to consideration by
what you have said about my father. Whether it be true or
not is another question which I do not care to discuss with
you now or at any other time. If he was foolish and sense-
less as you say, it was at least because he loved us, but you
certainly cannot claim to love me when you can talk so at a
time like this. If you have no tenderness for me now, how
can I ever hope to have it from you? What is the use in
talking any more? You and I could never forget this.”

She spread her hands in a kind of final gesture, a gray
weary look overspreading her face. It was as if she had
got beyond feeling emotion, because the tempest that swayed
about her was so great that it meant nothing to her numbed
little soul.

Milton Page stood watching her in disapproving surprise:
He had not anticipated a scene with Doris, she had always
been so tractable:

“You certainly must be more overstrained than I even
imagined,’ he said at last in a cold disapproving tone.
“Come, you are not fit to talk now. Get your hat and we will
go somewhere for a bite of lunch and you will feel better.”
There was still command in his voice. He evidently ex-
pected to be obeyed.

But Doris was slipping off the ring from her slender
finger:

“No,” she said with finality in her tone, “I haven’t time
to go and ride, and there isn’t any use anyway. You have
shown me that you and I do not belong together. Not
possibly !””

She held out the ring but as he did not offer to take it she
laid it down on the table, and with a quick step walked out
of the room,52 JOB’S NIECE

As soon as the door closed behind her she flew up the
stairs, silently, on feet that had been practising quietness dur-
ing her father’s illness, and arrived quite suddenly in her
brother’s room where he stood sullenly, despairingly, look-
ing out of the window. She stood there some seconds before
he turned questioningly to look at her, wondering at the
strange mingled expression on her face:

“Well, what’s the matter?” he asked at last in a sneering
voice. ‘What did that monkey have to say about my affairs ?”

“He has gone,” said Doris in a queer little far-away voice.
“He knows nothing about your affairs.”

She was surprised to find she had said the words, it seemed
such an effort to speak, yet there was a terrible calm upon
her. It was as if she were made strong for this awful crisis
that was come upon her.

Ned had turned and was looking at her keenly now, a good
look in his eyes. It seemed somehow to warm her little cold
heart.

“Doris, you’re a peach!” he said almost solemnly, “I always
knew you were a peach!”CHAPTER V

Downstairs Milton Page was by no means gone. He stood
dumbfounded, displeased, staring at the door through which
his fiancée had just passed with such finality. He could not
quite understand. Doris, of all the girls that he knew. She
had always seemed completely under his will. His slightest
wish had brought her smiling acquiescence. What had got
into her?

He turned his head and caught the blaze of the diamond
lying on the table. He frowned. How careless of her to
go off and leave it there. Three hundred and fifty dollars
worth of diamond! He had explained its price carefully to
her soon after giving it to her. He said it was best to know
the value of one’s property. He himself always thought of
that engagement ring in terms of dollars and cents. Per-
haps he was not to blame. He had been a poor young man
and had made his way through college and into a business
position under the hardest circumstances. He felt himself
fairly successful now, but he could not forget the struggle it
had been. He appreciated everything in terms of dollars and
cents. Not in any sordid sense, merely practical. He con-
sidered that a man was not well balanced who was not
thoroughly practical. In which of course he was right so far
as he went.

“Careless of her! Most careless!” he murmured half
aloud, and after considering the ring for a moment he reached
out and took it in his hand. It caught the light and shot it
into his eyes. How little it was. How very tiny. Such a
little fnger she had. He recalled that the ring had had to be
5354 JOB’S NIECE

made smaller, which had annoyed him at the time as it
seemed a waste of material, but it had been necessary on
account of the danger of losing it.

As he held the ring in the palm of his hand and watched the
scintillating colors flash from azure to ruby through clear
amber and deepest emerald with touches of violet, the satis-
faction returned that he had felt when first he held it thus
and knew that he had bought it, that it was his. That he
was able to give his promised wife a ring so worthy of his
position. So small a thing and yet it had cost so much!
And he had been able to buy it. The time was when it
would have seemed as unattainable as a kingdom and a
crown. Something of its intrinsic worth had come over him,
of course, as he looked at it in his first wonder over its rare
beauty ; a vague question as to why such a useless lovely thing
was created ; and there had been a tinge of romance too ; quite
unnecessary, but present. That had been a satisfaction, too.
All these reactions to the stone came back and reacted once
more, quite surprising him now in his preoccupied and an-
noyed state. He took note of his emotion as one who finds
he is more virtuous than he had known.

The little ring in his hand had a further appeal. He could
not quite understand it. That little ring! She was so small
and so frail who had worn it—and cast it aside so carelessly
at the end of a passing quarrel. He must speak to her about
that. It wouldn’t be safe for her to wear it regularly if she
couldn’t count on controlling herself whenever she was out of
sorts. She might fling it away in wrath and lose it utterly
sometime.

But she certainly must be ill to have behaved as she had
done. Perhaps he had not realized what a strain she had
been under. Perhaps she should have been treated as a sick
child and soothed for a few hours until she got herself in
hand once more before he began to talk business. It wouldJOB’S NIECE 55

be as well perhaps for her to lie down and rest that morning.
He could do some other necessary errands and not waste
much time. Then he would return later and they could make
their plans. It was disappointing of course to find that she
could be childish on occasion, but she had been strong so long,
and shown herself superior to other girls in many ways. He
must not hold this up against her. It really was not strange
when one came to consider it that she should break down
after all the days and nights of nursing. It was ridiculous
of any parent to allow it, even if he did intend to die at the
end of it. And the rest of the family preyed upon her con-
tinually. He was not sure but he ought just to pick her up
and run away with her right off without waiting for her to
get ready. Every minute she lingered in this house was un-
fitting her more and more for her life with him.

He frowned.

Yes, perhaps they could be married on Wednesday—or
even Tuesday. Of course it would be more expensive for
he would have to take a room at the hotel for a few days
before they could start, but perhaps in the long run it might
be cheaper. The next thing there would be doctor’s bills.

Well, he would give her a chance to rest and meanwhile
he would think out a less offensive way of approach. Per-
haps it was a little raw to let her know right off how he felt
about her father, but then it would have come out sooner or
later of course, and it was always best to be frank. Well, he
would try to be more soothing. Perhaps—he never had
wasted money on flowers—but perhaps a few flowers—half
a dozen rosebuds ought not to be high so near to summer.
Well, he would see. Meanwhile, what should he do with the
ring? Keep it and let her be anxious about it awhile? That
might bring her to her senses quickest.

But no, he did not care to make even such a concession to
her action. She must not think for an instant that he gave a56 JOB’S NIECE

thought to her giving the ring back. Of course that was
nonsense. One did not undo solemn things. It was blas-
phemy to even hint at such a thing. He must find a way to
make her see that.

There were pens and paper on a small desk in the corner.
He sat down at the desk and wrote:

Doris, I am sending up your ring. It was not like you to
stage a childish scene like that and leave your ring in a perilous
position. But we will not say anything more about that. I
am sure you will not try to be dramatic again. I know you are
very weary, so I am going away that you may lie down and take
a good sleep. Sometime this afternoon I will return and then
I am sure you will feel better and we shall be able to discuss
the future more amicably.

AS ever,
Milton.

He selected an envelope, addressed it to Doris, looked about
for a bit of string, and finding none took a rubber band from
his bank book, knotted it through the ring and then through
a neat cut in the writing paper, sealed it into the envelope, put
the pen and paper tidily away in their respective places, and
then went to the hall door to reconnoitre.

Jean was just coming from the dining-room to go upstairs.
He put on what he thought was a very pleasant smile and
called her:

“Jean, will you kindly take this note up to your sister
Doris? I think she has gone to her room to lie down.”

Jean came promptly and took the note, a little surprised.

“Here’s five cents, Jean, for running the errand.”

He was smiling and trying really to make his voice sound
pleasant. He noticed for the first time that she had brown
eyes like Doris.

“Oh, no thanks!” said Jean with a faint color in her fair
cheeks. “TI’ll take it without that,” and she fluttered off up-JOB’S NIECE 57

stairs with the note before he could recover his astonishment
and press it upon her. He frowned perplexedly. Somehow
he could not understand a child doing a thing like that.

He lingered a bit getting his overcoat on, half hoping Doris
would repent her little temper and return after getting his
note. He considered that note quite a concession. But
Doris did not come down, and he reluctantly took his way
out the front door, unattended. Even Jean did not come
down. She might have sent Jean down. He did not like her
holding a grudge so long. He did not know she had that
kind of a nature. He had always thought she had a sunny
disposition. But perhaps she would be all right when she got
rested. He must watch in future any tendency to hold tem-
pers and grudges and nip them in the bud. There was noth-
ing so trying as a woman around the house always having a
grievance. He had an aunt once who had them. Well, he
would get a thousand little matters attended to this morning
and go late in the afternoon, not too late, to take Doris fora
short drive and freshen her up. She would doubtless be
deeply repentant by that time. The prospect of a reconcilia-
tion was rather thrilling. They had never quarrelled before.
But he would show her how magnanimous he could be—after
he had shown her her mistakes of course. Anyway, it was
good that Doris could get a little rest. On the whole it gave
him deep satisfaction to think of her as lying quietly in her
bed resting. She was doubtless thinking over all he had told
her, and by this time she was planning what kind of curtains
she would have in her new home in the West. Women were
that way, he had often read. They made a great fuss about a
thing when you first told them, but on the whole they rather
liked a surprise and soon came around. Well, he would get
half a dozen roses when he came back in the afternoon. It
would probably please her, and a little drop of oil often made
machinery move faster. It really was important that there58 JOB’S NIECE

be no delays about their preparations. If she put off deciding
what she was going to do she would say she needed more
time afterward to get ready. But if she began at once every-
thing could easily be managed without hurry or excitement.
Milton Page hated excitement. He claimed it was disorder,
and only an indication of an undisciplined mind, like a clut-
tered living-room. He had a neat little talk on this subject
that he sometimes delivered on occasion.

But Doris was not resting on her bed planning curtains for
her new Western home. She was in Ned’s room questioning
him, trying to find a way out of the trouble, when Jean came
to her door with the note. Fifteen minutes later she hurried
to her own room to prepare for going out, but she did not
notice the envelope lying on the bureau. She dressed
mechanically.

She scarcely saw her own reflection in the mirror as her
slim fingers disposed the shining bands of hair symmetrically
about her head, and fitted on the close dark hat of fine
imported felt.

Doris was accustomed to being well dressed. It did not
seem a matter of great moment to her. She was not making
any special effort now to appear well, only to be neatly and
fittingly clad for the occasion.

She slipped into a slim dark coat edged with becoming fur,
whose well cut lines marked it as coming from an exclusive
shop, and while she put on her gloves she took a hasty survey
of herself. She did not know how lovely she was and what
an air of distinction she carried about her, from tip of dainty
suede shoe to crown of becoming tailored hat. Even the
dark shadows under the sorrowful brown eyes, and the pallor
of her wistful face only added to her charm.

Satisfied from her hurried glance that she was all right, she
went into the hall, paused a moment at the head of the stairsJOBS NIECE 59

listening dewn the hall toward Ned’s room, then finally went
swiftly to his room and opened the door.

Ned turned with a start, a ready frown leaping into his face,
then surveyed her with gradual relief. There was something
reassuring about her quiet self-control, her ladylike appear-
ance. Distinguished, that was the word that came to him as
he looked at his sister.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go with me, Ned?” she
asked wistfully. “It would seem as if that were the right
thing for you to do.”

The frown returned.

Noi!”

Ned sprang up and began to walk the floor frantically like
a caged creature, as if her words had touched some vital
agony.

“No! Oh, no! I couldn’t! It'll be much better for you
to go alone! I don’t want you to go at all, you know. But
I suppose you’ve got to see before you'll understand. Oh,
if I only had some money !” and he began to prance frantically
back and forth again.

“Listen, Ned! Now don’t begin that again. Florence will
hear you. Oh, why can’t you act like a man?”

“There you go!” Ned made a desperate motion of his
hands to his head. “I didn’t ask you to go, did I? I just
asked you for the loan of a few trifling dollars, and you made
all this fuss. If you would just let me manage my
affairs P

“Ned, you weren’t managing them. You were asking me
to give up the money—all the money we have in the world
with which to purchase food and shelter. If I had been the
only one it wouldn’t have mattered. But it wouldn’t be honest
to take it from the rest and buy a ring for a girl we never
saw.”

??60 JOB’S NIECE

“She’s my—” Ned began and finished with a groan, sinking
down in the chair by the window again with his head on the
window-seat.

“Yes, Ned, Iknow. But that is no reason why you should
forget your sisters and your brother whom you have known
and loved all your life. Oh, come now, Ned—’” as he gave
signs of further desperation. “This is hard enough without
your acting crazy. Get up and shave and comb your hair,
and go out and hunt a job while I’m gone. Then something
real will be accomplished. We haven’t any of us any time
to waste. We've all got to begin earning or we'll presently
find ourselves on the street begging.”

Ned raised a haggard, scornful face.

“A job! Where would I get a job?” he asked contemp-
tuously. “I’ri only half through college, remember. You
can’t pick jobs off telegraph poles!”

“You don’t find them moping in your bedroom either,” said
his sister coldly. ‘You should have thought of all that be-
fore you married her. But since you did not, since you have
chosen to get married right in the midst of all our trouble, I
think it’s up to you to get busy and find a job before night.
That will give you some self-respect. Come, get up and get
ready! I'll tell her you’ve gone out to geta position. That
will be a good excuse for my coming instead of you.”

Ned suddenly drooped again.

“She won’t think any job’s worth anything unless I can
give her all she wants. You don’t know her. She’s had a
lot of swell guys running around with her. She wants a

 

car of her own and all that. She a
Doris turned with a kind of sick disgust in her face:
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t provide her with one,” she said
with a faint gleam of sarcasm. “I might give her mine but
I have discovered it isn’t paid for, so I shall probably have toJOB’S NIECE 61

give it up. Ned, if you really haven't any sense at all, what
is the use in my trying to help you?”

Ned was stung into silence for a moment, then he lifted
miserable eyes and looked her over:

‘Doris, I know I’m crazy. I wish I’d never seen her, I
swear I do. I know you’re ashamed of me.”

“Ves,”’ said Doris candidly, “I am. But that’s no reason
why you shouldn’t pull yourself together and do the right
thing, is it? Anyhow you’ve got to. People can’t take obli-
gations on themselves and then walk out from under them
and leave their responsibilities for others to shoulder. I’m
going to see her this once and make everything plain ‘to her,
and then it’s up to you. But if I were you I’d have a job
found before I went to her. Then you’ve got something
solid to talk about.”

“Well, tell me, where am I going to go? Shall I just stand
out in the street with a placard ‘Job Wanted’ around my
neck? Where am I going to go? I ask you?”

“Go anywhere! Everywhere! Go to Father’s friends
and ask them. Go to Mr. Hamilton, he’ll likely know of
something.”

“No sir! ‘Not to old Ham. Not a step! Don’t you re-
member how he treated me the summer I was working in his
office to get my radio? Turned me down cold, too, when I
apologized. And all because I forgot for a coupla days to
mail a measly old letter of his that he said was so important.
He told me then I had no sense of responsibility and nobody
could trust me. Work for him again? I rather guess not.
I guess I’ve got a little pride left. I’d rather starve.”

“You can’t let your wife starve,” said Doris dryly, “and
you won’t find that pride will get you very far. Besides,
wasn’t he right? You haven’t any sense of responsibility,
have you? Would a person with a sense of responsibility62 JOB’S NIECE

have gone and got married in the midst of family trouble,
when he knew there was no money to be left to him, and that
he wasn’t through college and would likely have a hard time
getting a job? I ask you, would he?’

Ned’s answer was to collapse into his chair again and
groan.

“Well, then if you’re ever going to have, get up!” said
Doris coldly. “Get up and go tell Mr. Hamilton you're
grown up now and want to get something to do to help. If
I know anything about him he’ll help you now. But for
pity’s sake don’t take the high hat with him or he'll be dis-
gusted with you. I sometimes think you didn't learn any-
thing at“college but nonsense. Perhaps it’s just as well you
can’t finish. Hurry, Ned. It’s almost two o’clock. Hustle
and get ready and then make up your mind you're going to
get something even if it’s only distributing newspapers.
And don’t for pity’s sake get an idea you’re going to geta
big salary to start with. Remember even five dollars a week
is better than nothing.”

“Five dollars!” Ned wheeled on his sister and towered
above her in scorn. “As if I’d work for five dollars a week!”
“You may be thankful to get four before you’re done, Ned
Dunbar. Remember you don’t know how to do anything, and
you aren’t through college yet. You've got to make a begin-
ning even if you pay to learn how. So don’t try to begin at
the top or you'll never get anywhere. I’m going now. See
how quick you can come home with good news. Good-by
buddy!” She suddenly changed her tone and reaching up
kissed the tip of his ear. “It’s pretty awfully dark now, but
there must be some light ahead somewhere. Hold on and do
what you can till we find it.”

She was gone.
The boy stood still for an instant looking after her, a sud-JOB’S NIECE 63

den, tender, shamed look upon his face. Then he quickly
brushed the back of his hand across his eyes and began to
charge around his room and get ready to go out.

Ten minutes later, clothed in his finest, clean-shaven and
with a new look of purpose in his unformed handsome face,
he dashed out the front door and made off toward the busi-
ness section of the city.

A moment later a taxi drew up to the door and Mrs. Dun-
bar who had evidently been watching for it at her window,
sailed downstairs fully swathed in a black veil, got into it, and
drove away.

Almost immediately John appeared in the upper hall, rec-
onnoitred a moment, then stole back to his room for a bundle
of wire and some tools and stealthily entered his stepmother’s
room. This was the long anticipated hour for which he had
waited, when she should be out and away and he might step
forth from her window to the ledge of the bathroom roof,
the only available entrance to the roof in general without a
ladder. He had been waiting to put up a new aerial for his
radio for sometime, but had not dared try it as he knew she
would complain, but now the coast was clear and he set forth
from the window joyfully. A few minutes’ work and he
could return the same way and close the window, and she none
the wiser.

He had scarcely got safely out of sight when Rose came
down dressed for the street, and charming as her name.
Jean, who was curled up in a big living-room chair reading
“Under the Lilacs” for the seventh time, looked up and ad-
mired her.

“Where are you going, sister, couldn’t I go too?” she asked
eagerly.

“No, dear, I’m going to hunt for a job, and people don’t
look for jobs in couples.”64 JOB’S NIECE

“A job? What kind of a job?” asked Jean puzzled.

“Just a job. Anything to earn money. We've all got
to work now you know, since our money is all gone.”

“Oh,” said Jean, “was that what Mr. Hamilton meant?
Will I have to work too?”

“No. Kittie,” said Rose stooping to kiss her little sister.
“You aren't old enough. You have to go to school yet. rs

Jean sat and thought about it for sometime after her sister
left until she heard the doorbell peal through the empty house,
for Hannah the maid had also gone out that afternoon to look
for another job.

Jean laid down her book and glanced out of the window.
She saw a car standing at the door, and Milton Page was on
the front steps with something in his hand tied up in green
tissue paper. It looked like flowers. Was Milton bringing
some flowers to Doris? How nice!

But just as she was turning to go and open the door for
him she saw a shadow of something like a great bird de-
scending swiftly from up somewhere in the sky, and it shot
down heavily and struck the frail bundle that Milton carried
dashing it from his hand to the stone step and completely
covering it with a great lump of slime and leaves.

The little girl stood aghast and looked at the young man
who seemed for the moment petrified, contemplating with
consternation the wreck of the costly half-dozen, a small frag-
ment of green wax paper held tightly in his glov ed hand, his
immaculate shoes spattered with the oozy black stuff, and
spatters of the same inklike spots down the front of his new
gray overcoat. It was very funny to see the serious Milton
Page looking so helpless. But then the serious look came
back to his eyes again, he glanced above toward the eaves,
but there was no sign of how the dark object had started. He
looked down again as if to identify its origin, and by this
time he was wholly himself, and beginning to put his fingerJOB’S NIECE 65

on the reason for the accident. In a moment more he would
be blaming someone. Jean began to be frightened, as if she
somehow were to blame, and she hurried to the door to let
him in.

“Something seems to have fallen,” he said almost em-
barrassedly as she swung the door open. “There are some
quite expensive flowers under that rubbish, which I was
bringing to your sister Doris.” His voice was severe now,
and he was stamping the mud and leaves from his shoes.

“Is anyone clearing out your gutters?” he asked severely.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Jean.

“Where is John?” asked Milton, beginning to get back to
normal rapidly now. “He is quite capable of a thing like
that.”

A white look of comprehension like a fleeting ghost crossed
the little girl’s delicate face. John was her idol:

“Oh, I think he’s gone out,” she said quickly. ‘They’ve
all gone out to look for jobs. We've all got to work now
you know,” she said with an air of entertaining him. “I’m
sure John went too. Yes, along whileago. Won’t you come
in and sit down till they come back? I’m all alone.”CHAPTER VI

Doris had taken a trolley to the address that Ned had given
her. Her own little runabout would have taken her there
more quickly, but she had a feeling that she had no right to
use it any more. More than anything on this expedition she
wished to be genuine.

She got out of her trolley a little bewildered by the neigh-
borhood in which she found herself; an old district of tene-
ments lately patched up into cheap apartments. They reeked
of various cooking dinners as she made her way up three
courses of seemingly interminable stairs and finally knocked
at a door. Her heart was beating wildly. She began to
wonder why she had come. It was as if the whole thing were
suddenly a bad dream and she was going to bring it into
ality by making this move. Why had she not let the girl
one, let her do her worst? What difference did it inake?
And yet of course it did make a difference.

There was a sudden cessation of clatter in what must be a
kitchenette behind one of the doors down the hall, and pres-
ently a door opened just a crack. She had a feeling of being
inspected. Then the tiny jar of the closing door again, whis-
pered voices, soft steppings, and finally the door before which
she stood opened formally, half-grudgingly it seemed, and a
woman stood there: a woman of about forty with a red face,

re
al

and the appearance of a hasty apparelling. She was stout
and coarse and her gray hair straggled out from under the
transformation which had been adjusted too hurriedly and was
awry She looked Doris over belligerently and did not in-

vite her in.
66JOB’S NIECE 67

Doris caught her breath softly. It was going to be worse
than she had feared. Then she opened her lips and spoke in
a low musical voice that did not show the agitation she was
feeling:

“T would like to see Miss Bullard if you please. Will you
tell her Iam Miss Dunbar.”

The woman opened the door, still grudgingly, and admitted
her, but did not offer her a chair. Doris went in, however,
and sat down.

The woman gave her another cool glance, still belligerently,
and walked heavily away through striped chenille portieres
into a room which evidently was a dining-room. Doris could
see a table piled with soiled dishes, and a tall bottle half-full
of some dark amber liquid. Then the curtain fell and she
was left alone for a long time.

There were soft steppings about in a room beyond the
dining-room, low half-whispered words which she could not
understand, and she was left sitting with her heart beating
wildly.

She glanced about timidly at first. The room was cheaply
furnished with showy furniture, and there were a number of
photographs of men in ornate frames about the room. A
pile of moving-picture magazines was on the floor by a big
chair as if the reader had hastily deserted them. A soiled
pack of cards lay on the table, and an elaborate picture hat
of coral velvet trimmed with a large silver rose lay on the
top of the cheap upright piano. There was not much else
in the room save a pair of silver slippers lying one in one
corner of the room, the other under the centre table, as if
they had been carelessly kicked off.

It was impossible now not to try to conjure up a vision of
this new sister-in-law, who was presently to appear between
those striped portiéres, and Doris thought she was prepared
for the worst,68 JOB’S NIECE

She would be dumpy, perhaps a little stout, with black hair
and coarse features like the woman. The hair would likely
be bobbed in the most mannish and obnoxious style, and she
would wear cheap finery and many rings, perhaps long ear-
rings and strings of beads. Her hands, if her hands would
only be clean and well-cared for! Oh, how could Ned have
done this! How could he fall in love with a common girl
and think to fix her for life on his family? Think of Rose
having to go about with a girl like that. A girl who perhaps
chewed gum and bit her finger-nails, and talked loudly in pub-
lic places.

She was going on adding to the possibilities ad infinitum,
when suddenly without sound of any steps, the curtains
parted and the girl stood before her smiling.

It was not a pleasant smile. It was set, and wooden, like
a stage smile, and there was a glittering light of hidden
triumph in the blue cold eyes above the smile. But she was
not dumpy and stout, with straight black hair, nor any of
the other things that Doris had imagined. She was tall and
lithe as a willow, standing straight between the portieres
in a brief sheathlike frock of vivid blue satin which set off
the supple figure startlingly. Her arms were bare and white
as milk, graceful as a feather, and she had exquisitely
moulded hands, pink and manicured to the last degree. She
wore nude-colored silk stockings and patent leather ee
with cut steel buckles, and around her neck was a choker
rock crystals, which glowed and glittered almost like dia-
monds. Above this was a face of startling prettiness, cheeks
of flaming roses on a skin of rare loveliness, features like a
beautiful wax dolly of the old-fashioned type, painted vivid
mouth with cupid’s sharp corners, delicate black eyebrows
arched just enough, big, blue, staring eyes with long curling
heavy lashes generously darkened. The whole was sur-
mounted by a lovely head of real flaxen hair, the kind theJOB’S NIECE 69

best dolls used to wear, every hair curled just so, and every
hair polished to a burnished, beaten gold.

Doris sat startled looking at her, unable to speak for the
moment, she was so like a tall doll just out of the box. It
almost seemed as if you could pull a string and she would
say “Mamma!” Doris had an impulse to go to her and try to
lay her down to see if her eyes would shut and open. She
had to jerk her mind back to facts and remind herself that
this was probably her new sister-in-law.

The dolly did not try to help her any. She just stood there,
poised on her dainty high heels with that silly wax smile on
her face, and that expressionless stare in her china-blue eyes,
her hands grasping lightly the folds of the striped chenille
curtain as toy hands would do, and for all the world as if she
were a puppet just appeared on the stage. It was difficult
for Doris to realize that she was not at a show where she had
to sit still and watch what would happen next.

But she suddenly came to herself and rose:

“Are you—?” she hesitated whether to say “Miss Bullard”
again or not. Perhaps a girl just married would resent that,
and yet she could not bring herself to call her Mrs. Dunbar.
It seemed perfectly absurd. Perfectly terrible! This Ned’s
wife! How impossible!

“I’m Zephyr,” said the dolly-faced girl graciously, as if she
were reciting a piece, “I presume that’s who you mean.”

“Zephyr?” enquired Doris, with a half hope that this was
not Ned’s wife after all.

“Yes, didn’t Ned tell you? I’m Zephyr, down at the
theatre where I dance. You have heard of me of course.
You’re Ned’s sister, I suppose?’

Zephyr! Dance! The theatre! So there were more
complications! Why didn’ Ned tell her?

“Oh,” said Doris simply, “I didn’t know. I thought Ned
gave you another name. Yes, I’m his sister.”70 JOB’S NIECE

“Zoe,” said the girl with a toss of her golden fleece. “Yes,
that’s my name, but I go by the other name almost entirely
now. It’s my dancing name you know.” And she stared at
her visitor, still with that same unmoved smile. Doris had a
feeling that the smile was painted on to hide her real feelings
and would continue no matter what the girl felt. It was like
a pretty pink and white mask. It made her feel at a dis-
advantage.

“T have come,” said Doris sitting quietly down in her chair
again, for she felt as if she would sink down on the floor if
she tried to talk standing, “I came to have a little talk with
you. Have you time to sit down a few minutes and explain
the situation to me?”

“Oh, surely!” said the dolly-faced girl graciously with the
air of granting a great favor. She moved gracefully to a
chair and sat down in the latest approved slouch with one knee
flung as mannishly above the other as the narrow confines of
her slim frock allowed, thus revealing a dainty garter of as-
tonishing workmanship. “Of course I’m pretty busy just
now for we have an extra rehearsal late this afternoon, a
special stunt with Barri du Mille they are putting on to-night
for the first you know—you ought to come and see it, it’s
awfully darling. And as I haven't tried it before I shall have
to practise some. But then I’ve always a few minutes for
the family you know.”

She paused and lifted her china eyes and her painted smile
for Doris to view again.

Doris tried to keep from wincing as she took in the thrust.
She gathered voice and went quickly on with what she had to
say. She had not tried to plan this interview. It had been
impossible. There was nothing for it but to be straight-
forward:

“I’m not here to find fault with you and Ned for having
gotten married this way without having told anybody,” sheJOB’S NIECE 71

said gently, “nor to remind you that Ned is only nineteen and
not through college yet, he probably has told you all that. I
just came to tell you the whole situation. I thought perhaps
T could make it plainer than Ned could, he is so terribly cut
up about it all.”

She paused and Zephyr gave her a startled stare and lifted
her rosy chin a trifle enquiringly, much as a young colt would
do when it was about to take alarm.

“You know of course that our father has just died.”

Zephyr’s china eyes simply stared giving neither assent
nor dissent.

“You probably do not know, because Ned did not know
himself when he last saw you, that my father’s business affairs
were deeply involved before he died, and that we have lost
everything, even the house that we live in.”

The striped chenille portieres quivered a little at this as
if something had touched them.

Zephyr’s smile seemed a little frozen but her eyes were
smiling with the same china-blue stare. Doris hurried on.

“T am sorry that I had to be the one to bring you this news,
and that it had to come this way before we knew you at all.
But my brother was obliged to go out and look for a position,
and he was so distressed about everything that I undertook
to come and make things plain to you.”

Here the chenille curtains billowed out impatiently, but
Doris continued:

“My brother felt that there were things that you would
expect of him.”

Zephyr nodded and smiled more warmly.
“But I felt sure when you understood how things were

93

 

with us
At this the chenille curtains parted and showed the red-

faced woman with an angry frown:

“You can’t put anything like that over on us,” she said in72 JOB’S NIECE

a loud tone. “I wasn’t born last year, and I’ve seen more
slim, tricky hypocrites among the aristocrats than I ever did
among the honest hard-workin’ poor. I know your kind.
You're one of them mealy-mouthed stuck-ups that don’t want
yer brother to marry out o’ yer class. I’ve heard ’em talk,

I know their line. I thought when you come in with
them so-plain-yeh-cost-a-fortune coats on an’ that high an’
mighty way o’ speakin’ that you was just pussy-footin’ to get
yer darling brother away from my girl. But ya shan’t do it.
I’m too smart fer yer tricks. This time he’s caught, an’ he’ll
have a nasty time ef he tries to get away fer I don’t stop at
nothing—I ;

 

 

But Doris arose suddenly. Strength and poise had come
to her in the knowledge of this woman’s weakness. If breed-
ing and education meant anything it surely meant that she
ought to dominate a situation like this, terrible though it
Was:

“Mrs, Bullard,” she said in a low tone that arrested the
attention of the angry mother, “my brother has no intention
of trying to get away from promises that he has made. I
have simply come to explain the situation that we are all in.
I have come to say that we are about to move, that i is, if they
allow us to keep anything to move. But I presume in the
course of a few weeks we shall find a place to live somewhere,
and that then if it is at all possible we will try to make room
for my brother and his wife to live with us, for I scarcely see
how Ned will be able at present to set up a separate establish-
ment.’

"1Vo you don’t!” said the angry woman wheeling on Doris
once more. “My darlin’ child isn’t going to be under the
jealous eyes of any family-in-laws. She’s goin’ to have her
own home.”

“Very well, Mrs. Bullard. Your daughter and my brother
can settle that matter as they think best when Ned gets aJOB’S NIECE 73

job. I am merely offering, as his sister, to do all I can. If
Ned were in a position to give his wife a home I am sure
that would be the best solution all around. But I have done
what I could. I have no money to give or to lend to my
brother, and I am not at all sure that the home I could offer
him would be anywhere near as good as the one your daughter
has now, for we have all got to go to work, and I do not
know what we can afford. But I am ready to stand by my
brother far enough to offer to share what I have with him
and his wife until he can do better.”

The red-faced mother stood with folded arms much like a
prize-fighter about to begin another round. Her lips were
pursed, her brows drawn to the lowering point and she looked
Doris in the eye with a wicked glare. Behind her Zephyr
sat in her chair composedly, the fixed smile shimmering over
her face as if it could not help itself, almost as if this were
a matter in which she were not herself in the least concerned,
like a doll set aside to stare unseeingly till needed again.

As Doris glanced back to the belligerent mother, a sneering
smile overspread the woman’s face like the sudden lightning
in a thunder cloud, and when she spoke her voice had a
rumble of menace like distant thunder:

“That might be all O.K., Miss, if it was true. Very decent
of you an’ all that. But it ain’t! I know yer kind, as I said
before, an’ I know yer lying.”

Doris caught her breath angrily.

“Ves, that gets on yer nerve, don’t it? But I’m plain
spoken. I like to say what I mean. I say it’s lyin’. I took
pains ta find out what kinda young man my angel child was
goin’ with when he first started to trail around after her, an’
take her to midnight suppers, an’ joy rides an’ things. It’s
all printed in a book how much people in this city is worth,
an’ anybody can find out if they try, an’ I tried! You can
put that in yer pipe an’ smoke it! You say yer pa lost his74 JOB’S NIECE

money. Well, ef he did I know he’s good an’ got some
salted down fer his family. Rich folks don’t fail that way
nowadays. They fix it in somebody's name, an’ you got it
all right, an’ my daughter’s goin’ ta have her share ur you all
1] smart fer it. 1 told that brother of yours that ef he didn't
come to time within the week Zoe Bullard was goin’ to sue
him fer divorce an’ publish all his doin’s in the daily papers.
They won’t be purty readin’ neither, I can tell you. He was
in some real shady places oncet or twicet, an’ the p’lice ‘Il
be only too glad ta get hold of his name you can bet. Then
I guess you'll

Doris stood
seemed to have suddenly flowed out of her body mysteriously.

be sorry you didn’t shut up and fork over.”
frozen to the spot. Every particle of strength

She felt as if she were a mere ghost made of lace paper and
would presently blow over with the breath of this aw ful
woman’s words. Her very lips felt cold as she tried to open

1

them. She wondered vaguely why she had come, and whether

they would ever find her, provided she did not succeed in
cetting out of this place before she was spiritually consumed.

She remembered in a kind of meaningless way that she had
eaten no lunch and that breakfast too had been rather sketchy.
Then to her own surprise, she heard herself saying in quite
a cool little voice:

“Well, Mrs. Bullard, I suppose that people have lived
through things like that before. They probably can again.
If we can’t, we can always die!”

And then she knew that her feet were carrying her out
the door, shakily, like the tissue-paper feet that they were,

;

but still doing it. Good little feet, she commended them, for
carrying on when she was unable to direct them.

She heard the breezy voice of Zephyr calling down the
stairs after her:

“Tf you think you'd like to go to my show to-night I could
send you over tickets. I’d like you to see me dance.”JOB’S NIECE 75

And then she was out in the street walking along she knew
not how, headed in what direction she had not thought, only
walking, almost flying.

Often as a child she had dreamed that she was hurrying
somewhere and suddenly her feet were lifted from the ground
a foot or two and she went on in the air, like flying, the only
danger being that she would grow lighter and lighter and rise
so high she could never come down again. It was like that
now. Her overwrought nerves imagined that her feet were
no longer on the solid earth, but speeding along in the air
somewhere, and if nobody stopped her she would never get
back to earth again. And almost she was glad.

But gradually as she walked she came out into the open
spaces where houses were few and far between, and where
bare trees lifted lacy brown fingers against a sky which had
clouded over during the afternoon and now was piling
powder-blue clouds against a leaden West.

There was more room to breathe out here, and time to
think. Her feet seemed to be going more slowly now, and
to touch earth again and feel more firm. The throbbing in
her head had almost stopped and her cheeks had ceased to
sting and burn from the shame of the words the woman had
flung after her.

She came suddenly to the end of the paving, though the
road stretched away over the brow of a little brown hill firm
with last year’s meadow grass, and dimly outlined by wheel
tracks months old. There was a soft fringe of fine brush
against the horizon and a faint pink tint in a lifting crevice
of the powder-blue clouds. She kept on aimlessly, stumbling
over the uneven ground and thinking that life was like this,
all full of uneven places, and hers had come to the unpaved
place. It would probably go on the rest of the way without
paving. She had had her easy time while Father lived.76 JOB’S NIECE

Now it would all be hardships and how was she to bear it?

Then suddenly, as she looked up again at the place that
had been pink, there burst forth a great red ball of glory,
startling her with its very nearness and wonder, as if it had
eyes of light that were looking into her soul; calling to her
from out the universe; getting her attention for some very
special message. She felt that as a conviction as she hurried
on to the very top of the little hillock and stood looking across
the darkening brown meadow straight into the ruby light of
the setting sun. It must be God!

Just like that the thought came. There was a God. He
had made her. And perhaps He was trying to signal her
for something now. She was very desperate. Why would
it not be reasonable to expect a great and good Creator to do
something about it when one had reached the very limit?
Her soul leaped to the thought.

Of course people prayed, and some professed to have
answers. She knew that. She could remember her mother
praying and teaching her to pray when she was a little, little
girl. But that was not like this.

She had not been praying. She had not prayed in many a
long year. She might be foolish and fanciful, but what if it
were true that God was trying to signal her through the sun?
What harm to try and understand the message? God must
have created the sun. It was His instrument. How
gloriously it was hung there in the atmosphere like a living
fire,a jewel. No wonder those barbarous peoples worshipped
the sun of old. It must have filled them with great awe.

And to think of its having burst forth there in the midst
of the storm clouds and gathering darkness. Ah! Was that
her message? She was in the midst of awful thick darkness,
peril promising on every hand. Did

and storms rumbling,

God mean He was there behind the cloud? Ready to show theJOB’S NIECE 77

light when needed? Why, down below her in the little valley,
where all had been gray and brown with the evening shadows,
a bright reflection shone now from the breast of a tiny stream,
widening into a little pond. It lay as still as the earth about
it and caught the ruby reflection. It seemed to tell her she
was standing at the very gates of God.

She glanced about her hurriedly—not a soul in sight. The
nearest house at least two blocks away. Before her the fringe
of bare brush and trees pencilled against the sky, and the
great fire jewel rapidly sinking now, slipping with its edge
just below the rim of the opposite hill. She must be quick
or it would be gone.

Then out of her desperate need she spoke aloud:

“OQ God!” she said very softly, “I think you must be
here. You are very wonderful and great, and I am only one
of the smallest that you have made. But I keep thinking you
care. Is that what you meant this sight to tell me? If it
is, if you really care, won't you please help me when [ get
home? Won't you show me the way through all this dark-
ness ?”

She stood silent in awe and watched the last glowing rim
of the sun slip out into darkness, and then she bowed her
head and closed her eyes for a moment.

When she lifted it again, a rosy glow seemed to be over
everything and looking up, the whole top of the heavens had
burst into coral glory of rosy feathery clouds, which touched
even the leaden horizon into beauty, and glowed and paled
and glowed again into golden, and emerald, then faded softly
into amber and pale gold.

Long after, when she had walked back to civilization again
and was climbing into a car that would take her home, she
looked back and saw the pale gold opening in the dark clouds,
where the sun had been, as if the peril of the storm promise78 JOB’S NIECE

had been broken by that glowing ball of fire, and riding away
into the East she kept saying softly in her heart, “He
answered!” in wonder, “I think He meant that for an
answer,” and, “I shall believe that anyway.”CHAPTER VII

Wuen John Dunbar had attained the height of the roof and
set up his aerial with elaborate care and satisfaction, he
looked about him with delight. Seldom before since he had
been old enough to climb had he been able to attain this
position, because his stepmother in her room had always
prevented, or there had been somebody about to stop him.
His father had forbidden him to make the attempt.

But John figured now that his father was gone there was
no one who cared enough or had the right to stop him unless
it was his stepmother and he did not intend that she should
have the opportunity to object. It would be sometime before
she returned. He argued that she would not have gone ina
taxi if she had not been going quite a distance. Besides, he
was ina sightly place. He was keeping an eagle eye out fot
yellow taxis, and why not enjoy himself for once now that
he was here? He would not soon get up here again.

He took a bird’s-eye view of the neighborhood, identifying
all the boys’ houses, and studying their aerials carefully,
deciding his was better than any of them. Then he wandered
over to the front of the roof to get a cursory glance of the
street from above. It was almost like going in an aeroplane,
he fancied.

But after a few minutes even this new view of the world
grew monotonous and he began to cast about in his mind for
something more active to do. As he turned reluctantly from
the parapet that was built across the front of the house like
a wall, he realized that his feet were wet, for he had taken
7980 JOB’S NIECE

off his shoes and was in his stocking feet. He glanced down
and saw that the leaves in which he was standing which had
blown into a heap next the parapet, were overlying a layer
of black slime. Looking along to the corner where the gutter-
pipe carried the rain-water down, he discovered that the
opening was entirely covered with leaves. Ah! That was
why the water came over in such sheets whenever there was
a big storm, and made gullies in the little scrap of a side
yard. He would clean it out. It ought to be cleaned out.
He would love to clean it out. For once his desires and his
duty were one.

With a stick, which he had brought with him in the bundle
strapped to his shoulders when he climbed up, he set to work.

He started in at the opening of the gutter pipe in the
corner and pushed the refuse away little by little until he
had the opening all clear, and the little wire protector set in
place again as it ought to be. Then he shoved the rapidly
increasing pile of leaves and slime ahead of him up toward the
other front corner of the parapet. But when he reached
what was approximately the middle of the wall the pile got
cumbersome for the stick, so abandoning it he stooped and
gathered up a great armful, as much as he could manage,
taking care to tuck the leaves around the slime at the bottom,
and gather up as much of that as he could get—boylike, not
stopping to think where he was throwing it—he reached over
the parapet and flung it with all his might.

It had not left his arms before he realized that he had
flung it directly over the steps. Leaning over he took in the
whole disaster with consternation, and instantly ducked back
out of sight.

“Gee! Golly! he said below his breath. “I’ve done it
now,” and streaked it across the roof like a bird, down a
gutter-pipe, in at his stepmother’s window, taking the treacher-
ous leap from the pantry roof without hesitation. It wasJOB’S NIECE 81

necessary that he be elsewhere almost at once or all his pre-
cautions would have been useless and dire displeasure would
descend upon him.

He almost forgot to shut the window and gather up his
shoes from the bed where he had thoughtfully left them when
he went up, but remembered them just in time. He fled
down the back stairs, pausing at the dining-room door to
listen an instant, and thanking his lucky stars that Hannah
was out and would not question.

He was just in time to hear Milton Page ask for him, and
to hear his little sister’s reply :

“They’ve all gone out to look for jobs. We've all got to
work now you know. I’m sure John went, too. Yes, a long
while ago.”

Long years afterward John remembered that kindness of
his little sister, treasured it in his heart, and many a time
went out of his way to do her a kindness in memory of it,
though he never told her why.

But he registered the whole thing, as he poised there be-
tween kitchen and dining-room, his head on one side, his
weather eye out, his shoes still clutched under his arm.

Then when he heard them sit down he let the swing door
go noiselessly shut, slid out the back door without a sound
and over the back fence. Crouched down beside the ash can,
he put on his shoes and did a bit of chain-lightning thinking.

So it was true then! They were very poor. They were
all going to have to go to work. Well, then, it was up to him
to get a job too, wasn't it? He wouldn’t mind a bit. He
wouldn’t have to go to school any more. That would get it
back on that teacher that said he had to stay in every day for
three weeks to make up for putting the bee in his desk.
Better make sure of the job right away before anyone was
foolish enough to think he was too young to work and had to
keep on at school for a while. He wasn’t a baby. Doris

6 =_

82 JOB’S NIECE

would be sure to want to hold him back. Of course he had
always wanted to go to college to be in Ned’s frat, and to
play football. But they had football other places besides
college. He might work in a foundry. They had a team
there, crackerjack players, too. Besides he must help support
the family. It wouldn't be right for women to be working,
supporting him, a great big boy. When he got older he would

5
Ledun. Theo didinaies
study by himself evenings and make up. hey did that some-

times. Of course it must be awful dry getting things alone
that way, but he’d do it if he wanted to bad enough and enter
college without their old prep school. He'd read of fellas
that did that. Sam Bazeley’s cousin did that and got to be
an awful grind. He could if he liked. He wasn’t so sure
he cared about college since he’d thought of the outside teams.
He could be a professional, mebbe, if Doris didn’t find it out.
She wouldn’t like that. Of course there was the frat, but
then frats weren’t everything. There were clubs and things.

He tied the last knot and looked about him surreptitiously.
He must get away from the neighborhood as soon as possible.
Well, he’d better begin to look for that job at once.

He tramped off down the alley at a good pace, and lost
no time in putting several blocks between himself and home.
He looked dubiously down at himself when he considered
trying for a job. Boys ought to look neat when they went
tor j' bs.

Owing to the fact that he had been ordered by Rose to
put on his good suit that morning for Mr. Hamilton’s visit,
he still had it on. No one had thought to tell him to take it
off, and he was not accustomed to taking off good things
himself to save them. He always wore them when he got
the chance.

But the suit was rather crummy. It hadn’t been improved
by his climb up the waterspout and his armful of slime and
leaves. He stopped behind a tree, moistened his handkerchiefJOB’S NIECE 83

in his mouth and scrubbed away at one lapel where a mud
stain was particularly noticeable. His shoes needed polish-
ing too. His necktie and his hair—well, he could wash his
hands and face at the fire plug down town, and his handker-
chief was almost clean. He could wipe on that. If he found
Ted anywhere around he could borrow Ted’s comb. Ted's
mother always made him carry one, and besides, Ted had a
sort of girl, and combed his hair a lot. They got that way
when they got girls, even young girls. John regretted that he
must pay attention to his hair ; it seemed effeminate, but a job
was a big thing, much more important than girls, and one
couldn’t be called a sissy for combing up for that. So he
made his way to Ted’s usual after-school haunt and borrowed
the comb. Of course Ted wanted to know why this un-
wonted fineness. John explained that he was going to leave
school and get a job. Ted at once made suggestions.

“Whyn’t ya get a job at Lyman’s department store? It’s
peachy there! I know a kid—he’s my cousin—an he works
there. Ya get yer pay raised every six months, and ya get
time off fer studies and ta play in the band, and they have a
baseball team, and running, and my cousin he got sent up to
New York to run in the races, and he got a gold medal.
Whyn’t ya go there an’ ask fer a job? I guess they always
want fellas.”

“Mebbe I will,” said John loftily, “I got two er three things
up my sleeve. I gotta look round. Well, so long Ted!
Thanks fer the comb. I'll have ta get me one myself now I'm
a business man. Sorry I can’t be with ya Saturday at the
game. Goo-by!” and John sauntered down a block or two
with his hands in his pockets whistling.

At another group of boys he paused, borrowed a bicycle
of one with the promise of coming over some evening to fix
up his radio by way of pay, and mounting rode away in the
direction of the department stores.84. JOB’S NIECE

Descending upon Lyman’s he found a little difficulty in
parking his borrowed bicycle, but presently discovered an
obliging guard at the employees’ entrance, who agreed to look
after it for him when he heard John had a special message
for Mr. Lyman and couldn’t send it up but must “see him in
person.”

Bold because of his utter ignorance, John presently found
himself in Mr. Lyman’s outer office, seated in a long row of
chairs with other applicants for the great business man’s fa-
vor. John had not told what he wanted. He had only
said he had a message for Mr. Lyman. John’s philosophy
was that whatever had worked once was liable to work
again, so he tried the same method he had used with the
doorkeeper.

It worked again. John was told to sit down and await
his turn.

There were boys in that office about his own age. He had
lifted his chin and told them loftily whom he wanted to see,
and they treated him respectfully as if he were a man, as
if they were men. He saw that was a part of their business.
He watched them awhile as they came and went respectfully
with messages, and sat over in one corner waiting a call, and
he decided that it was a great life. He wanted to be one of
those boys. He had read or heard somewhere that a boy
always ought to know what he wanted to be. Well, he would
decide right then and there that he would like to get to be
owner of this store.

Across from the seat where he was placed, on the wall,
hung an immense painting of the Lyman store. It filled him
with awe and joy. To bea part of that great system! Gee!
He guessed his stepmother wouldn’t dare order him around
if he was employed in a great store like that.

So it came his turn at last to give his name to one of the
secretapies at the desk, who wrote his name and address onJOB’S NIECE 85

the typewriter and sent it in to Mr. Lyman by one of the
boys. John stood waiting with very red cheeks and
determined mouth. He meant to get to be one of them before
he came out of that office. And presently he was summoned
to the inner sanctum.

John had no sense of his own temerity in thus invading the
chief’s office without a bidding. He did not know that when
boys wanted a job they had to go to the employment offices
downstairs and bring references, and go through days and
sometimes weeks of waiting while a lot of red tape was un-
wound, and then perhaps get turned down. John walked
into the Lyman office with his head up ana an eye to conquer.
The same boy that climbed the waterspout, cleaned the roof,
and smashed Milton Page’s roses beyond recognition, the boy
that put the bee in the new teacher’s desk, was out to get a
job!

‘Well, sir! What can I do for you?” asked the merchant,
eyeing the boy keenly, noting his frank merry smile, his clear
complexion, his straightforward bearing.

“T want a job and I thought this was the best place to
come,” answered John without hesitation.

“Um! Who sent you?” asked the keen student of human
nature.

“Nobody,” said John, “I just came.”

“Haven’t you any references?”

John looked sober.

“No, do you have to have references ?”

John couldn’t think of a single living soul, except perhaps
Ted, who might give him a reference, and Ted would hardly
count. Doris might on a pinch, but Doris was not to be
thought of.

“We generally have to have references,’ said Lyman se-
verely. Someone was evidently to blame for letting this boy
in without knowing his business.86 JOB’S NIECE

“Don’t you know this isn’t the place to apply for jobs any-
way ?” asked the great head of the store.

“Oh,” said John more hopefully, “isn’t it?’ Perhaps they
werent so particular about references in the right place.
Then he gleamed trustfully up into the man’s face. “How’d
it be if you’d take me there then and give um a good refer-
ence for me?”

It wasn’t impudence, it was just pure good will and com-
radeship in John’s smile as he showed his fine white teeth be-
tween his healthy red lips and twinkled his merry eyes. But
most men would not have taken it that way. Most business
men would have called it impudence and sent John flying.
Lyman eyed him a minute and broke out laughing:

“Sit down you young rascal, who are you anyway?”

John sat down.

“Mebbe you know my dad,” he hazarded. “He was quite
a little well known.”

“H’m! Who was your dad?” He referred to the type-
written slip in his hand. “Dunbar. What’s his first name?”

“John Edward. I’m John and my brother Ned is
Edward.”

“Not John E. Dunbar of Dunbar, Reed and Co.”

“Yes. That’s my dad,” said John with a gleam lighting
his eyes.

“So you're his son? And you want to come into my
store ?”’

John nodde l.

“Well, what does your father say to that? Have you told
him? Did he send you?”

“Dad's dead, sir!’’ said John huskily, his eyes drooping em-
barrassedly as he fumbled with a button on his coat.

“Oh,” said Lyman, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. So that’s
it. But surely, surely— You are young yet. Wouldn’t

your father have wanted you to stay in school a while first ?”JOB’S NIECE 87

John shook his head.

“T can’t,” he said firmly, “I’ve got to help support the
family.”

“Oh.” said the head of the big store again. “Well, that’s a
different story. Well, I guess we'll have to give you a job.
What do you think you'd like to do?”

John straightened up and motioned with his thumb toward
the outer office:

“‘Rirst I’d like to be one of those fellas out there,” he said.

“And afterward?” queried the head of the store.

“Oh, bimeby I’d like to own the store.”

“You don’t say!” said Lyman interestedly. “Well, per-
haps you will, who knows? But meantime there’s no reason
why you shouldn’t begin as one of my special messenger boys.
Two are being promoted to-day, and | haven’t yet picked
their successors.’

He reached forward and touched a bell, and one of the
secretaries appeared at the door:

“This is John Dunbar, Mr. Landon. I wish you would
take him down to Bergen and see that he is properly regis-
tered and has his instructions. He is to take Merryweather’s
place. John you may report to-morrow morning at half past
eight, and if you are faithful there is no reason why you
won't succeed. It all depends on whether you can hold down
the job. We can't have any nonsense here, John.”

“All right, sir. Thank you. And could I stick around up
here after I get through down at the office and get the hang
of things so I’ll be of some use in the morning ?”’

“Sure! Stick around all you like only don't get in any-
body’s way. Good-by John. Good luck!”

John went away with an impression of hearty good will,
and a big warm handclasp. Already he felt that he would
protect his new employer with his life if it were necessary.
John “stuck around” till the store closed and possessed88 JOB’S NIECE

himself of much knowledge. He knew about lockers, and
entrances, and the code of the office. He knew exactly
what he had to do in the morning, and which door to come in.
He knew all of the boys in the office by name and what each
thought of the boss, and he knew the different secretaries.
As he went down to retrieve his borrowed bicycle from a
much disgusted guard, who was about to leave it with the
night police, he reflected that in spite of accidents he had done
a good day’s work.

Then he rode to the house of the owner of the bicycle, and
paid for the use of it by working on the other boy’s radio for
a couple of hours. He did not go home to supper, but ac-
cepted a portion in the privacy of his friend’s bedroom, pro-
fessing not to have time to go home for it. So the day drew
toward an end, and John arrived at last at his own door, sud-
denly realizing that he would be expected to account for him-
self and wondering if after all the family would appreciate
his efforts in their behalf. He began to wonder if Milton
Page had gone home yet.CHAPTER VIII

Mrs. Dunpar reached home before anyone else. She paid
her taxi, sailed up the steps with the grand air of a con-
queror, opened the door stealthily with her own latch-key,
and stood poised like an old purple grackle with her head
cocked on one side listening.

The house was absolutely silent. She stole to the door of
the living-room. Even Jean had disappeared from her chair
leaving her book open at the place where she had left off read-
ing. There was a strange sweet perfume in the air, prob-
ably remaining from the funeral flowers, and yet— She
glanced hurriedly around with her small sharp eyes, bird’s
eyes, and spied three drooping rosebuds hanging dejectedly
from a bud vase which stood on the mantel. Now, where
did they come from? Had some of the children dared to
extract flowers from their father’s wreaths? With a petulant
frown she stepped over to the mantel, pulled the flowers from
the vase, glided to the front door, opened it and flung them
far out across the curb, watching a passing automobile grind
them to powder. Then she shut the front door and hurried
down the hall to the kitchen, opening the door a crack to see
if Hannah was there. Hannah was not. Hannah believed
in making the most of a day off. Hannah did not return
until after midnight.

With a quick glance around to make sure she was alone she
stepped over to the gas stove and made a cup of tea. While
the tea-kettle was boiling she rummaged in the refrigerator,
and gathered quite a tempting Junch on a tray. When the
tea was ready she took the tray up to her own room locking
89go JOB’S NIECE

her door ostentatiously. If Rose was at home in her room
as she probably was, lying on her bed reading a novel, she
wished her to know that the door was locked, and locked
hostilely. Mrs. Dunbar was always dramatic in whatever
she did. She would like the family to think that she was
starving herself. She wanted to make it apparent that she
was punishing them for their disrespect to her the night
before.

She took off her wraps and put them away. Then she
settled comfortably and ate her supper, enjoying it with
the keen relish of one who has fasted for a number of
hours.

But the continued stillness of the house began to be alarm-
ing. She was a very scary person always, and doubly so
since her husband’s death. She began to imagine that per-
haps they had all gone off and left her, and having thought
of such a possibility she could stand it no longer without in-
vestigation. Moreover, if they were all out this was the very
time to search for any papers that might be useful in her pro-
test of the will. Not that Mrs. Dunbar had the slightest idea
what kind of papers they would be in order to help her cause.
She did not have a legal mind, she had merely gathered up a

.

eterogeneous mass of ideas from the novels and magazines
she had read. And one very strong impression was that step-
daughters and sons usually did something with their father
to influence him against leaving his property to their step-
mother. She had always been jealous of the children from
the moment she entered the house, though she had never dared
show it before her husband. He always had some good ex-
planation for anything the children did, and a few experiments
in this line at the beginning of her career as a stepmother had
convinced her that it was useless to attempt to turn her hus-
band against his children. He was prejudiced in their favor

and thought they could do nothing wrong. Being of a sleekJOB’S NIECE 91

and comfort-loving disposition, she saw that her easiest path
lay in humoring his whims, and taking it out on the children
in such a way that they could not retaliate.

But she had always harbored a secret fear that sometime
they would get it back on her in one grand coup, and for
years she had been trying to entrench her Salt so firmly that if
it did come she would be safe. And now it had come. Her
husband had died, and in spite of her best efforts, and his re-
peated promise that she should be well looked after, he had
only given her her sixth. And even that did not include the
house.

She had always planned when she got that house to send
the children all away to school or somewhere else, and live
as she pleased. She had even picked out an old friend to
come and live with her and do her work; a friend who was
penniless and would therefore be glad of a home. She had
always been able to work on this friend, a widow of many
years, with a painful sense of her own life failure. And now
to have this plan upset by a mere statement that the house be-
longed to the children was maddening. As if anything could
belong to children before they were of age. Why, even Doris
was not quite twenty-one. Surely that ought to put every-
thing in her hands. Of course she would see that the children
were taken care of till they could get work, or get married ; but
it could be done with far less money or annoyance if they
were sent away. Now, there was Doris! And Rose, too!
They were both able to take p ositions somewhere. They
could be librarians and board where they liked, or teachers,
which was better still and might perhaps take them quite out
of the city or even the state. John and Jean could be sent
to cheap boarding schools of course. She knew one for boys
where they could work so many’ hours a day for part payment
of board and tuition Ned of course being a young man
would have to look out for himself. What if he was onlyg2 JOB’S NIECE

nineteen? Plenty of young men of that age joined the Navy
or went off to South America to take a position. The farther
the better. She had suffered enough with those children all
these years, and intended to be free from them. It was high
time too, when they had reached the point where one of them
would dare to throw water on her in her grief, and the rest
would stand by and giggle. Giggle! ‘The very day of their
father’s funeral! It was scandalous!

To the statement of the lawyer that there was no property
left anyway, she gave not the slightest heed. There had been
property, and it was put in the will, therefore it was some-
where now. It could not just melt away. She was suing to
recover it. If her husband had been cheated out of it she
would require Court to search it out and restore it to her.
That was her notion of what it meant to go to Court. In
her secret heart she felt sure that this was all a cooked-up
story, the joint product of the children who were trying to
cheat her out of her rights, and the lawyer who probably was
expecting to get a rake-off himself out of it. They prob-
ably knew well enough where all those bonds and things were
hidden.

But meanwhile, since they were all out and she had the
house to herself, why not make a thorough investigation?
She might not have another good opportunity.

So stealing forth cautiously, and peering into each door,
tapping before she opened it softly to make sure no one was
inside, she went from bedroom to bedroom swiftly, then
straight to Doris’ room when she found she was alone.
Doris was the oldest and would be the most likely one to take
charge of any papers. Also Doris would be the one who
would most resent having her room ransacked if she hap-
pened to arrive while it was going on. She would get it
over first.

So she locked the door and went swiftly to the closet,JOB’S NIECE 93

dragging up a chair to stand upon that she might reach the
shelf.

After she had mounted the chair it occurred to her that she
might not hear if one of the children came in, and if it hap-
pened to be Doris it would be most awkward to be caught in
there with the door locked. If the door were open she
could hear anyone and get out before they discovered her.

So she got down and unlocked the door setting it wide
open. Then she mounted her chair again and began hastily
to go through her stepdaughter’s boxes. She found nothing
more interesting than a collection of mementos of Doris’
school days, valentines, Christmas cards, programmes, notes,
a few photographs, some dried rosebuds tied with a faded
ribbon, a broken necklace, a white kid glove, a soiled satin
slipper, the kind of things that every girl has left over from
the gay romantic age and cherishes because she thinks they
represent the dearest things in life, until she finds something
really dear and then she flings them out as rubbish or puts
them away with a smile to show to her own children some
day.

Doris would have been very angry if she could have known
that these pleasant little tokens were being overhauled by the
ruthless hand of this shallow woman, who was acting with no
more sense than an angry child would in search of some
means of revenge.

She crushed the dried flowers between scornful fingers,
and scattered the dust in the air. She jumbled the whole
collection back into the box and jabbed the cover on in her
haste till it broke, and then she poked into every hat box and
shoe box in the closet and left them all uncovered. There was
just one box that defied her, a large tin one fastened with a
small brass padlock. She pulled it to the front of the shelf
and strained at the lock, her ear alert, meanwhile, to the
front door, and to every step that passed by on the sidewalk,94 JOB’S NIECE

but the lock was strong and would not give. She must look
for the key

She climbed down leaving the box on the shelf and went
on a rummage through the desk and bureau for a key that
would fit that lock.

Doris’ desk was always in careful order. The envelopes
and paper in their proper place. Unanswered letters in one
compartment, answered ones which she wished to keep in a
little drawer by themselves, herded with rubber bands.

With excited fingers the determined woman shuffled
through these letters, looking for possible papers.

There was one small package of letters addressed to Doris
in her husband’s handwriting. Ah! If there was incrim-
inating evidence against Doris it would be here if anywhere.
She stuffed the letters in her pocket quickly, swept the other
papers back in a mass, and moved to the bureau.

She went through each drawer swiftly, but it did not take
long for Doris kept her clothing in neat piles and it was easy
to see at a glance that there was no hiding place here for
what she wanted. Her eyes travelled over the top of the im-
maculate bureau. Nothing there but an envelope addressed
to Doris and apparently not opened. Ah! Here might be
the very thing she needed. She put out her hand and took
it. There was something small and hard inside, and there
was no address but Doris’ name. Was that Milton Page’s
writing? It looked like it. Could he be in the plot against
her? Why ‘surely. He would be the very one to carry
the whole thing out. He was a thrifty business man, and of
course if se was going to marry Doris he would want to get
as much money with her as possible. She hesitated, about to
open the envelope. But a noise in the aE ea made her pause

and listen. Was that someone on the st
9 v

psi

e
She slipped the envelope in her pocket along with the first
packet. It would be better to get iefoush he

er search first andJOB’S NIECE 95

examine these at her leisure. She must find that key and see
what was in that tin box before anybody arrived.

When she was quite sure that no one had come in, she
opened Doris’ little jewel box on her dressing bureau, and
there she found a tiny key.

She quickly possessed herself of it and closing the jewel
box she climbed upon the chair and fitted the key into the
padlock. Yes, it was the right key. In a moment more the
lid of the box was open and the contents were before her
excited view. And there on the top was a photograph of
Doris’ own mother. Her hated rival!

It was as if that other woman had come and found her
snooping through her child’s property, as if she stood there
with her perfect features, and her great dark sweet eyes
searching her soul and condemning her. She stood for an
instant holding the hated picture in her hand, her anger rising,
her face strained and white, then her other hand went into
the box again investigating, and touched a long soft brown
curl of hair!

She caught her breath and started back, every nerve on
edge. It seemed like a dead hand. It was a dead thing, a
part of the dead woman whose place she held. She wanted
to scream, but dared not. She tried to draw away her hand
from the dead strand of hair, but it had somehow curled itself
about her finger, and a long creeping hair clung, and sent
shivers over her. She shook her hand to shake it free, and
her foot, with its sharp little heel, suddenly went down
through the cane seat !

She caught at the shelf to save herself, but only gripped the
edge of the tin box, and down they went together, chair,
woman, box, and picture in a strangely mingled heap; letters,
keepsakes, a tiny Bible with its leaves fluttering open, some
bits of quaint jewellery, another bunch of dried flowers tied

with a white ribbon, some bits of silk and muslin, samples of96 JOB’S NIECE

dear old dresses, a pen, a gold thimble, all fell around in a
shower, and on the top of the fallen woman lay her dead
rival’s picture, sweet, serene, gentle, earnest, strong, above
the confusion.

And there in the doorway stood Rose Dunbar, horror,
amusement, scornful delight, and a kind of undertone of
anxiety in her tired pretty face:

“Florence!” she blamed in her fierce young condemnation.
“What on earth are you doing in here?”

The startled lady tried to rise, her hair fallen to the side of
her head, her face excited and angry. So she was caught!
She was angry at being caught.

“T was hunting for something of mine on that shelf,”
she said sharply. “Have you any objection? Since when
was I forbidden any room in the house? Iam your father’s
wife, am I not?”

Rose came nearer and gave a significant glance at the con-
tents of the box which was scattered all about, and back to
the face of the prone woman:

“T don’t see that that gives you a right to go through Doris’
closet, and examine the things that belonged to our mother!”
she said in a tone with two edges. “I think you had better
get out of here before Doris comes home.”

There was something ominous in the tone of the girl as she
looked down with contempt on her stepmother, and Mrs.
Dunbar felt that her situation was intolerable. Also she
realized that she did not care to be caught in this predicament
by Doris. But when she essayed to scramble to her feet her
ankle gave way, and she sank back again with a groan and
leaned her head against the door.

“T’ve hurt my ankle,” she moaned.

Rose stood regarding her for one contemptuous second:

“Well, I should say you pretty much deserve it,’”’ she flung
back in her clear young voice of scorn. “Here, put yourJOB’S NIECE 97

arms around my neck and we'll get you out, unless you want
them all to come back and find you here.”

The baffled woman looked at the girl with hate, but saw the
logic of her words, and obediently clasping her hands about
the lithe young shoulder, was lifted to her feet. Then Rose
looked around:

“You'd better sit down in that rocking chair and I'll drag
you to your own room,” she said unsympathetically. “If
you're really sure you can’t walk,” she added.

The older woman flashed her another angry look which
she did not see, for she was stooping and tenderly moving
out of the way several of the letters which had fallen across
the path which they must take. She led her stepmother to
the rocker which was but a yard away from where they were
standing, helping her to sit down and draw up her foot so
that it would not drag. More gently than her real inclination
would have prompted she dragged the rocker out of the door,
stopping to change the key from the inside to the outside and
lock the door, putting the key in her own pocket. Then she
dragged the chair across the hall to Mrs. Dunbar’s room, say-
ing significantly :

“We'll leave that room just as it is until its owner comes
back. Perhaps she will be able to find your lost property for
you.”

Mrs. Dunbar dropped upon her bed with an angry groan
and hid her face in the pillow:

“Go away!” she said. “You're a wicked girl, too! Oh, if
your father knew how you are treating me!” and she burst
into a wail, which had an ominous reminder of the night be-
fore in its quavering tones.

“Now look here, Florence!” said Rose standing over her
fiercely. “You can stop that right there. I’m going down-
stairs to telephone the doctor to come and look at your ankle,

and if you go into hysterics again the way you did last night
; s98 JOB’S NIECE

I’ll take him into Doris’ room and show him what you were
doing. I'll tell him just what happened. And I'll tell Mr.
Hamilton, too, and all the lawyers. You’ve got to behave
and not try any of your tricks or we'll just tell the world

 

what you are.”

“Go out of my room!” said Mrs. Dunbar stopping her
weeping. “I don’t want the doctor! I’ve only twisted my
ankle a little and it'll be all right by to-morrow. If you send
for the doctor I’ll tell him what a wicked girl you are. [ll
tell him how all of you have treated me!”

“Very well,” said Rose retreating. “Just as you say. ,If
you want the doctor I'll phone for him. But if you carry on
any more high strikes believe me, you'll be sorry. Here’s the
arnica and I’il get you a pitcher of water. If you need me to
help you you've only to say so.”

Rose filled a pitcher at the bathroom faucet, brought the
bottle of arnica, and stood awaiting further orders:

“Go out!” said Mrs. Dunbar ungraciously, “I wouldn’t take
your help if I was dying. Go out and shut the door!”

Rose went out and closed the door firmly behind her, and
as soon as her footsteps had crossed to her own room Mrs.
Dunbar rose cautiously from the side of the bed, limped to
the door, and locked it. Then she limped back, sat down
again on her bed, reached in her pocket and brought out Mil-
ton Page’s note to Doris with the diamond ring fastened
carefully inside.CHAPTER IX

Rose was in the kitchen getting supper when Doris at last
walked in. She had made fudge for a beginning. That was
her specialty. She was enveloped in a long apron, and had a
streak of chocolate on her cheek. She met her sister in the
hall:

“Where on earth have you been?’ she greeted her. “The
mischief has been to pay. Where’s Hannah? Did you
know she was going out?”

“Why yes, I told her we probably couldn't keep her more
than another week, and she asked if she might go out for an
hour and leave her name at an employment office. Isn't she
back yet °”

“Not a sign of her. Nobody home but Florence when I
came in, and she wasn’t exactly at home. Come on upstairs
till I show you.”

Rose ran upstairs lightly, fishing in her pocket for Doris’
key. Doris followed more slowly, suddenly realizing that
she was very weary. What new form of torture had now ap-
peared? She must not forget her sunset.

Rose fitted the key in the lock and swung the door wide as
Doris reached the top step:

“But why was my door locked ?” she asked surprised.

For answer Rose pointed to the overturned chair and the
confusion on the fleor. “That's where I found Florence!”
she said with eloquent tone. “Now what do you suppose was
the big idea?”

“T don’t know,” said Doris, wearily dropping down on the
bed and beginning to laugh hysterically. “I’m glad it’s noth-
ing worse. I’m getting used to expecting tragedies.”

99100 JOB’S NIECE

“Well, I’m glad you can take it that way. I’m sure I
Shouldn’t. It made me furious. Look at Mother’s picture,
all rumpled on the edge.”

Doris-reached out a gentle hand and gathered the picture to
her.

“I know,” she said sadly. “It’s hard. But there are
harder things. Florence has always been like this about
Mother you know. I remember the time she snatched this
very picture away from me and made me sit in a chair for an
hour because I was hugging it in my arms and crying. She
said I just did it to show her I hated her. But after all,
she’s no new proposition. We've always had to put up with
what she did.”

“Well, believe me, I wouldn’t put up with it another min-

ute. Isn't this house ours, at least until itis sold? Can’t you
tell her to get out? Right now? I wouldn’t let the old
snoop stay around another night. Give her a little taste of
what she’s always given us. Send her to a hotel, or off to
some ot her precious friends that are always purring and
drinking tea around here. Dad never liked them.”
“But ‘Dad idy asked us to give her a home here the rest of
her life,’ reminded Doris gently. “He wouldn’t like it if we
turned her out. Neither aor our mother. Look at her
smooth straight brows and that lovely mouth and see, there’s
1othing vindictive about her. And it somehow seems ill-
red to be vindictive, Rose. We must stick to our traditions
or everything will be gone. Come, let’s forget it and go
down and get dinner. I'll change my dress and come right
down. What is there in the refrigerator ?”

I
l

“Hardly anything. There are a few scraps of chicken
stuffing and one wing left from last night. That won’t go
far. There’s a big lump of raw meat but it looks as if it
would take forever to cook. There isn’t even a cooked potato
to fry. We'll just have to have eggs. There isn’t but oneJOB’S NIECE 101

slice of bread left either. I thought Jean might run to the bak-
ery. Why, where is Jean? I thought she came in with you?”

“No, I haven’t seen her. When did she go out ad

“T’m sure I don’t know. There wasn’t a soul in the house
when I got home but Florence as I tell you, and none of
them have come in yet. I thought you had Jean with you?”

“Why no,” said Doris. “She ought not to be out this
time of night in the damp air after her sore throat. We must
hunt her up right away. Where do you suppose she is?”

“Oh, perhaps over at Mayfair’s with Elsie, or down at
Eberley’s with Lisa. I'll go telephone her to come right away
and bring bread on her way. We can charge it to-night if
she hasn’t any money, can’t we?”

But frantic telephoning in every direction they could think
of failed to bring any trace of Jean, and for the time being
dinner was forgotten and the fudge left to cool itself as best
it could while the sisters put on sweaters and searched the
neighborhood excitedly.

‘We'd better ask Florence,” said Doris at last as they met
again at the house. She maybe told her.”

Rose shook her head:

“Jean wouldn’t open her lips to tell Florence anything if
she could help it.”

But Doris was already on her way to her stepmother’s door.

She tapped lightly but received no answer. Then she
tried the door and found it locked.

“Florence!” she called imperatively, “Florence! Do you
know where Jean is? We can’t find her anywhere.”

There was an impressive pause and then Mrs. Dunbar’s
severe voice replied:

“T do not!”

In vain did she try to get more information or arouse some
interest in the child’s disappearance.

“She was gone when I returned from an errand. I have102 JOB’S NIECE

not seen her since I went out. You will have to stay at home
and look after her if you think she isn’t old enough to look
out for herself. I cannot be responsible for her any longer.
I’m done!”

“What a lovely spirit!” ejaculated the furious Rose from
the top step where she stood listening. “My! I’m glad
Daddy didn’t know what he left us to.”

Doris followed her slowly, thoughtfully, down the stairs:
“Sometimes,” she said sorrowfully, “sometimes I’m afraid
he did, and that was half what killed him. Well, what shall
we do next? Do you think we’ve got to report it to the
police? Mercy!” She shivered as she opened the front
door again and looked out in the street.

It was just at that moment that John appeared, approach-
ing his home with misgivings:

“Oh, here’s John!” ejaculated Doris, suddenly realizing
that she had not yet had time to take in his absence and be
anxious over it. “John, have you seen Jean?”

John was quick to unfold to the warmth of his sister’s wel-
come. He had rather expected to be blamed for staying out
so late, and was meditating an entrance via the back porch
and the bathroom window when that front door opened.

“No,” he answered with zeal. “Isn’t she home? Gee!
It’s getting late, isn’t it? Wonder where I better go after
her? She wouldn’t ’a’ gone off with Milt Page anywhere,
would she ?”

“Mercy, no!” said Rose quickly. ‘“She can’t bear him!”
Then she cast an apologetic look at Doris, who seemed not to
have even noticed it.

“What put that in your head, John?”

“Oh, I dunno,” said John warily, suddenly aware that he
was revealing more than was necessary. “He was here—just
before—I mean just after I left. That is, I think I saw him

—in the—distance—I

x)JOB’S NIECE 103

“No, she never would have gone with Milton,” said Doris
thoughtfully, “because I—” she stopped and began again—
“che—he would never have asked her,” she finished embar-
rassedly. “He is not fond of children.” This last as if she
was stating a sad and suddenly realized fact.

Rose gave her a quick curious look and chanted softly
under her breath: “Whom children shun and dogs love not,
beware!”

Then she dashed into the kitchen and brought out the pan
of fudge.

“Here, take a handful of this as you go. I’m starved,
aren't you? Now, who will go where? There isn’t any
place left is there?”

“Where you been already?” asked John with his mouthtul
of candy.

They recited the rounds in chorus:

“Guess I’ll try Hetty Brown’s,” he said thoughtfully.

“Hetty Brown’s! That old woman! Why she never
goes there! What on earth would she go there for?”

“She’s got a whole batch of kittens ain’t got their eyes
open yet. Jean’s just crazy about ’em. Hetty gave her one,
a yellow and white, and she brought it home, but Florence
wouldn’t let her keep it. She made her take it right back the
same day without waiting to even get her hat and coat on,
just held the door open and ordered her outta the living-room
where she found her holding the kitten.”

“That’s where she got her sore throat!” moaned Doris.
“Go quick, John! I’m terribly worried about her, and come
back and tell us. If she’s not there we must all go out and
hunt her. Why, it’s after nine o’clock !””

3ut the house of Hetty Brown was closed and dark, and
no answer came to the thud of the ancient knocker, though
John tried it several times.

John stood for several seconds on the dark stoop peering104 JOB’S NIECE

down the street and trying to think where his little sister
could have gone. Then a bright idea occurred to him. Per-
haps she had gone to the movies. She loved pictures and
was always coaxing to go. What was more natural? That
was likely where the kid had gone when she was left alone.
She ought to have had more sense than to stay so late of
course, but he better go after her first before he went home.
The girls would be scared stiff.

So he hustled off to the neighborhood movie theatre which
was three quarters of a mile away, realizing as he went that
he was tired, and that the pangs of hunger were beginning to
be felt even in spite of the liberal supply of fudge which Rose
had bestowed upon him.

As he approached the Picture Palace and noted the man in
the ticket booth he thought he somehow looked curiously
familiar. Who was it? Not his brother Ned? Of course
not, but—” He hurried nearer to get a better view but the
man had ducked under the little trap door at the back and
disappeared somewhere, so John paid his quarter grudgingly
and passed inside, with a fleeting pang that he had to pay for
a show he had not the time to see. He hurried in and went
systematically down one aisle and up another looking at every
person in the dark congregation, but nowhere could he find
his little sister.

Discouraged he came out again, and as he passed through
the swinging doors he was sure he heard Ned’s voice snarl
out with his familiar accent: “I tell you I did. What’s the
matter with you? Are you deaf?” But when he looked in
the ticket booth there was only a middle-aged man with a
gray moustache and a grim tired look on his face. He must
have been mistaken. So many things were happening he was
getting all balled up. John hurried out in the direction of his
home, thoroughly alarmed now as he heard a distant clock
ring out ten o'clock.JOB’S NIECE 105

Back at the house Doris had lighted the gas oven and put
some potatoes in to bake. They would get themselves done
without watching, and would be warm and filling if they ever
got to the place again where they could think of eating.

Rose was foraging in the ice box:

“There’s some boiled ham, Doris, and plenty of butter and
milk but there isn’t a speck of fruit.”

“We could make some pop-overs,” said Doris turning
troubled eyes upon her sister,” but we can’t give attention to
that now. We must find Jean. Every minute counts when
some one is lost. Tjme enough to bake pop-overs and think
about eating when we find her. Rose, have you looked thor-
oughly everywhere in the house te

“Why no,” said Rose. “It never occurred to me.”

“You know she might have curled up and gone to sleep
somewhere. Maybe she’s up in the attic by her old doll
house, or in Daddy’s den. She's a queer little grown-up
thing you know, and she was all alone and sorrowful. We
oughtn’t to have left her. No knowing what notion she got.”

“Mercy!” said Rose full of compunction. “I never
thought of it. Everybody was here when I left, John and
Florence—and Ned— Where is Ned? He ought to be
home by this time. He could help hunt.”

“Well, we can’t wait for him to come,” said Doris with a
smothered sigh. “You look everywhere down here, the cel-
lar too, and I'll go upstairs and make a thorough search.
By that time John ought to be back, and if she isn’t found
we'll have to call in the police 1 guess. If I don’t find her
I’m going to make Florence open her door and tell what she
knows.”

So the girls separated and began their search, Doris taking
her pocket flashlight with her to penetrate into closets and
under the eaves in the attic. But no trace of little Jean was
visible anywhere, not even a book or doll lying about to showJOB’S NIECE

she had been there. The much-thumbed “Under the Lilacs”
lying on the window-seat told no tales. The only thing that
Rose found to puzzle over was a bud vase on the mantel
half-filled with water, and a little yellow bud broken from its
stem and lying on the hearth almost out of sight behind the
fire shovel.

Rose came to the foot of the stairs and listened when she
heard Doris’ imperative knock on Mrs. Dunbar’s door:

“Florence, you must open the door quickly! I must ask
you something. Jean is lost and we are about to call the
police to help us find her. It isn’t wise for you to be found
locked in here. They will be sure to break open the door and
ask you questions, and it will look bad for you. Won’t you
come out now and tell us all that you know about it, and
whether you have seen Hannah this afternoon? Hannah is
gone too. It is quite important that we know everything that
has been going on here before the policemen arrive.”

There was a sound of instant feet upon the floor, and the

door was unlocked. Mrs. Dunbar wearing a pink negligé
and her hair down in long braids came out. There was a
pink spot on either cheek and her eyes were brilliant with
excitement :

~ 1 haven't the least idea what has become of your precious
sister,’ she said angrily, “and if you think you are going to
try to put that on me you are mistaken. I have employed a
lawyer to look after my interests, and no hatched-up plot is
going to be put over on me. You have probably hidden her
somewhere and you think you can arouse sympathy for your
cause and turn people against me, but I have friends as well as
you, and I don’t intend to let you tell any lies about me.”

“Florence! As if we had any such idea!” said Doris
almost in despair. “I simply want to know when you saw
Jean last, and what she was doing, and whether she told you
where she was going when you left? What time did youJOB’S NIECE 107

leave the house and where was Jean when you went out?
Did Hannah speak to you about going out? Was she here
when you left?”

“Mercy! What a string of questions! A regular cate-
chism! What right have you to catechise me I'd like to
know? But of course I’ve got to answer or you'll threaten
me with the police. Well, then, No! I haven't seen or
heard Jean to-day. She’s such a sly little mouse you never
know what she’s up to anyway. I wouldn’t put it past her
to hide and try to get me into trouble herself. No, I didn't
speak to Hannah either. She was gone when I got back.
There wasn’t a soul in the house. I looked in every room—

I 99

 

 

wanted to find some of you—I
At this Doris exchanged quick glances with Rose who had
come half-way up the stairs.
“T was rather nervous to be left alone in a house where a

 

death has been

“What time did you go out? Where did you go?” asked
Doris interrupting her.

“That is none of your business. I went out when I got
ready and went where I pleased. I did not see Jean nor
Hannah. Now! Are you done with your questions ?”

“No,” said Doris suddenly flaming into spirit. “What
were you looking for in my room among my private papers?”

“That you will learn soon enough,” said the stepmother
mysteriously. “I was looking for something I had a perfect
right to have. That is all I shall tell you. If your policemen
come and want to see me I’ll come down, but until then have
the goodness to let me alone. I’ve got one of my sick head-
aches. You aren’t the only one that has something to tell
the police. I found my window unfastened that I locked this
morning with my own hands, and there was mud on my clean

white bed spread.”
“Tet me see!” said Doris moving to enter the room. But= Sn elie

   
  
   
 
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
   
   
 
  
  

108 JOB’S NIECE

   

Mrs. Dunbar slid quickly inside the door with her shoulder
against it.

“TI shall not let you see. Isn’t it enough that I tell you?
You doubt my word, I suppose. Well, I don’t have to deal
with you. I shall deal straight with the law.”

With a grand flourish she finished her speech and shut
the door, locking it vindictively.

Doris stood for an instant staring at the door, then turned,
with outspread hands:

“That's that!’ she said to Rose. “Oh, Rose! I’m so
tired !”” and she sank down on the upper step with her face in
her hands, pressing her hot eyeballs with her cold finger-tips.

Then out of the blackness that surrounded her despairing
heart there came a vision, as if printed on the retina of her
eyes, and brought into visibility by the touch of her fingers.
A great ruby glow of glory rising out of the blackness of a
valley dark and dreary, with a sketchy fringe of branches
picked out against its brightness. Ah! Her sunset! She
must not forget!

She lifted her head and smiled at Rose wistfully: “It’s
coming out right somehow, dear,” she said.

“You're wonderful, Doris,” said her sister admiringly, “I
wish I was like you. I just hate her. I can’t see how you
can take everything so sweetly.”

Oh, she doesn’t matter,” said Doris with a little gesture of
dismissal for the unfortunate Florence. “If Jean would just
come back I wouldn’t care what she said. I oughtn’t to have
gone off and left her alone to-day. The poor little soul.
She was just all wrapped up in our father, and she must miss
him bitterly.”

And just then they heard a key rattling in the lock of the
front door, and both girls stood still on the stairs, staring
eagerly at the door.CHAPTER X

Ir was Ned who opened the front door. He stood for an
instant looking at them, the collar of his thin spring overcoat
turned up about his haggard young face, his hat pulled low over
desperate eyes. Doris’ heart sank. It seemed to her that
he had aged ten years since she saw him a few hours before.

He shivered as he took his hat off and started to unbutton
his overcoat. “I’m all in,’ he growled. “Been all over
creation hunting a position. There isn’t one fit for a pig
to take within a radius of a hundred miles. I guess I better
go drown myself.”

“Don’t!” said Doris sharply. ‘“We’re in trouble here, Ned.
Jean is lost. I’m sorry you don’t feel well, but I guess you'll
have to help us. Nobody knows when or where she went,
and it’s getting very late. It’s after ten o’clock!”’

“Oh Time!” said Ned impatiently. “You girls are al-
Ways getting in a stew about something. She can’t be far
off. She’s likely having a good time at the neighbors’ some-
where.”

“Do you suppose we are complete idiots, Ned Dunbar?
We've been to every neighbor and friend we can think of
and nobody has seen her to-day, I tell you. And Doris has
telephoned to everybody we ever heard of, I think. Now
John has gone one more place. If he doesn’t find her we’re
going to telephone for the police and have it broadcasted.”

“Stuff and nonsense!” said Ned. “A little thing like
that! You'll have everybody laughing at you. Here!” He
seized his hat again. “I’ll go out and find her in no time.
She deserves a good spanking for making all this trouble,
109110 JOB’S NIECE

and when I find her, believe me I'll give it to her. She won’t

co

doitagaininahurry. You all have spoiled her, that’s what's

 

the matter with her. It’s time somebody told her a thing
or two. But say! MHaven’t you got some coffee or some-
thing? I’m all in, I tell you. I didn’t eat any lunch and
I had no chance for any dinner.”

“T’ye got some coffee in the percolator,’ said Rose ef-
ficiently, “it won’t take a second to heat it. It must be warm
yet.”

“T’ll make him a sandwich,” said Doris, and both girls flew

“Tt’s all tomfoolery,” growled Ned as he took great bites
at the sandwich. “You ought to let her stay till she gets
ready to come home. It would teach her a lesson.”

Ned didn’t say what kind of a lesson it would teach. His
sisters eyed him anxiously

“But Ned, she may have been kidnapped,’ said Doris,
voicing an awful fear that had been creeping upon her and

which she had kept in abeyance till now.

“Ver Granny!” said Ned with the superiority of the male.
“Folks don’t do that nowadays. Whaddaya think anybody’d
want of a little kid like that? More trouble than she’s
worth ?”
yp Ned! You shan’t talk so about your sister,” blazed
Rose.

“There Rose, he doesn’t mean it,” said Doris, trying to con-
trol the trembling of her hands as she refilled his cup.

“Well, I ask you. Why would they do it? We haven't
got any money for a ransom have we?”

Doris’ sad eyes met her brother’s

“People don’t know that, Ned. a please. I’m nearly
crazy

“Oh yes, erazy! Crazy! That’s what you are. So amJOB’S NIECE 111

I, but it doesn’t make any difference does it? I’ve got to go
out on a fool errand haven’t 1? Where’m I to go I ask
you? If you’ve been everywhere? What is there left for
me to do?”

Doris turned with a despairing look and went toward the
telephone.

Just then the front door rattled noisily and John burst in:

“Has she come yet?” he asked eagerly.

His usually bright color was pale with anxiety, and his
round boy eyes were grave with trouble. The night was
beginning to seem full of terrors for a little sister to be
out in.

“TI went clear down as far as the movie place,” he said.
“Guess I better beat it out again. Why’n’tchoo go too,
Ned?”

“I’m going,” said Ned briskly. “I just got in.”

And at that the door-bell pealed through the house.

For an instant they stood looking startled at one another.
Then John turned with a business-like air and opened the door.

There stood Jean, pale and sleepy looking, but with shin-
ing eyes. She was holding her little blue sweater together
with one hand around her thin little shivering shoulders,
but the other hand grasped three shining quarters.

“Oh, Dorrie, I’ve got a job!” she cried rushing past the
rest and holding out the money to her startled sister.

“I’ve got three of them, and I guess there’s another next
week—and it’s fifteen cents an hour, or twenty-five cents
if I stay two hours at a time!”

But Doris had gathered the little girl in her arms and was
crying softly on her neck. The strain had been so great,
and she was so tired and so glad to have the child safe
again.

“Why Dorrie!” exclaimed the little girl astonished.122 JOB’S NIECE

 

“Why Dorrie! You are crying! Has anything happened?
They are all here—” looking around quickly from brothers
to sisters— ‘‘Aren’t you glad I’ve got a job?”

“You darling child!” said Doris brushing away the tears
and smiling. “We've been so frightened about you. Where
have you been?”

“T’ve been just around the corner at Mrs. Bryan’s taking
care of her baby,” explained the little girl eagerly, “I——”

But Ned interrupted her angrily:

‘What business have you got running around the neigh-
borhood all hours of the night playing with people’s babies?
Let them look after their own brats. You ought to be
whipped, you ought, and I’ve a good mind to do it myself!
Going off without telling anybody and frightening your
sisters half to death. They were just about to call out the
police and get us all in the papers, and it would have served
you right if they had! Aren’t you old enough to behave
yourself? What do you think you are anyway? A two-
year-old? Guess we'll have to get a nurse for you. Why
didn’t you telephone, you little goose?”

Jean’s large blue eyes grew wide with grief and astonish-
ment. The joy that had sat upon her thin little face so
beautifully when she came in faded as if she had been struck.
She stood swaying away from her brother with a little
piteous gesture that went to the heart of Doris:

“Ned! Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? You oughtn’t
to scold her that way when she thought she was doing some-
thing to help. Let her explain. Why didn’t you telephone,
Jean?”

“There you go! Spoiling her again,’ muttered Ned.
“That’s what’s the matter.”

“They didn’t have any phone, Sister. Mrs. Bryan lives
on that little brick street down below Claremont. And I
didn’t know she was going to stay so long. She said she’dJOB’S NIECE 113

just be gone a little, little while. She said not more’n about
three quarters of an hour, she guessed, she just wanted to see
her sick sister. And then she stayed, and stayed—” Jean’s
lips began to quiver— “and stayed. And I couldn't go out
and leave that baby all alone, could I? Not when I was get-
ting paid for taking care of it. And oh—I didn't have
any—sup-per—!” Jean dissolved into tears at last and
dropped into a chair.

John shoved Ned aside with a gruff:

“Aw, get out you big boob!” and went over to her, his
awkward hand stroking her little bowed head:

“Say, don’t mind him,” he said jovially. “He was scared.
I saw it in his eye. You're a little duck, you are, Kid, an’
no mistake! Don’ cry, Kid. You're the stuff! Come on,
wash up an’ let’s get some food. I ain’t had any dinner
either.”

Doris and Rose had come close to comfort the little girl,
kissing her and rejoicing over her, and Ned, his miserable
eyes on the group, sank down into the other hall chair, his
elbows on his knees, his aching head supported on his hands.
Nobody was noticing him.

But when John spoke about the lack of dinner both girls
sprang up, no longer feeling their weariness, and went to

 

work:

“Come on,” cried Doris, “I’m going to make some pop-
overs. They won't take long. The potatoes are baked to a
crisp but they’ll be nice with lots of butter, and you can eat
the skins. Jean, you and John set the table quick. Ned,
you open a can of peaches or anything you want. I'll make
the pop-overs, and Rose will get the milk and butter and some

7 y?

jam. Come on everybody!
She cast a winning glance at Ned, but he did not look up.
His whole attitude was utter dejection.
The others hurried into the kitchen and there was presently
8114 JOB’S NIECE

a pleasant clatter of dishes and tongues, as they went from
pantry to dining-room, from refrigerator to kitchen.

Doris had the flour all measured out, and the eggs opened.
Even the pans were greased and ready, and she had only
to beat her mixture together and put it in the pans. Soon
everything was ready.

‘Have we got to call Florence?” asked Rose with a troubled
frown. “We're having such a nice time, just us together.”

“Gee! I wish Florence didn’t belong!” contributed John.

“Hush!” said Doris anxiously. ‘She might be listening.
It would be terrible if she heard you. It certainly wouldn’t
make things any pleasanter. Wait! I'll run up and see.
At least she must not have it to say that we didn’t ask her
to come down to meals. Perhaps she’s gone to bed.”

“Here's hoping!” said John fervently.

Doris ran silently up stairs on her tired feet, but found it
all dark and still at her stepmother’s door. As she came
down the stairs she paused by her elder brother’s chair and
Jaid her hand on his hair.

“Come on, Ned, you'll feel better when you have something
more to eat.”

For answer he caught her hand:

“What happened, Sister?” he asked anxiously in a low
tone.

~Well,—” Doris hesitated, “I gave the invitation.”

“What did she say?” his voice was feverish with excite-
ment.

“She didn’t say much. Her mother did the saying. She
didn’t seem to care for it. But—Ned—I must go—the
children will be asking what we are talking about. Come!
Come out and eat and I'll talk with you after they’ve gone
to bed. If you don’t come they’ll know there’s something
the matter. You don’t want them to know—yet—do you?”
“Absolutely not!”JOB’S NIECE 115

Ned pulled himself up sulkily, and went to the dining-
room. He wouldn’t take his overcoat off. He said he was
cold. He complained that nothing tasted right, and he drank
numerous cups of coffee, and sat heavy-eyed and listless at
the table.

They were all engrossed in Jean’s account of her afternoon
and no one but Doris noticed him. She cast a troubled

glance at him now and then and wondered how she should tell
him the story of her visit without hurting him more than
was necessary. Or would it be better to tell the whole thing
without attempting to soften it? Perhaps the plain un-
varnished truth was the only thing that would ever set Ned
straight. But then how was he ever to get straight anyway,
with a wife like that tied to him for life! Poor Ned! Her
heart ached for him. He and she had been very close to one
another during their motherless years. They both remem-
bered their own mother well. But Ned certainly was not
behaving in a very manly way now in their crisis.
Was it possible that she had helped to spoil her handsome
brother ?

“Aw come, Ned, don’t be a grouch any longer!” said John
at last as he noticed Doris’ frequent anxious glances in his
brother’s direction.

Ned lifted heavy eyes and gave a vindictive glance at his
brother :

“Aw, shut up!” said Ned bitterly. “I guess if you felt
the way I do you'd be a grouch too. Shut that kitchen door,
Rose. What’ve you got out there anyway? It feels like
the North Pole! Great Scott! Has the fire gone out or
what’s the matter? I don’t think I'll ever get warm again.
My feet are like icicles, and my throat feels as Mi there was

a sharp knife in it. It hurts me to breathe, too.’

“Aw get out! You've got the grippe that’s all. I've felt
like that plenty of times, and never got ona grouch like you116 JOB’S NIECE

do either. It won’t hurt any more if you grin an’ bear
it is

 

“John!”? spoke Doris sharply. ‘That isn’t kind. Ned is
really sick.’”’ She laid her cool little hand on his hot fore-
head. “Why! He has a high fever. Ned, you’ve got to
go to bed this minute! Rose, put the tea-kettle going again
and fill two hot-water bags. He needs to go to bed or he'll
be down sick, and that won’t pay.”

“No,” growled Ned, “that won’t pay. If it would I’d stay
in bed. Stay in bed and get a salary for it. Anybody ever
get a job like that? Aw what’s the use? I feel rotten.”

His head fell down on his folded arms on the dining-room
table. The children suddenly sobered and looked at one
another with the foreshadowing of a new disaster in the
offing.

John penitently shoved back his chair:

"Aw well, P'll go down an’ look at the furnace, I ’spose.”
He yawned and disappeared down the cellar stairs.

Doris urged her brother up to bed, and went up herself and
found extra blankets, turned down his bed, and plumped up
his pillows. She went to the medicine closet for the usual
remedies, and finally ventured to suggest sending for the
doctor.

But at this the patient blazed out so vociferously and
threatened such dire rebellion that she had to be satisfied with
tucking him up with hot-water bottles and giving him her
own home remedies,

She dreaded lest he would ask her again for an account of
her afternoon’s visit, but now that he was comfortable in
bed, and warm at last, the shivering stopped, he seemed to
want nothing but to be left alone. And so at last the ex-
cited household settled to sleep, worn out with the efforts
of the day.

Doris as she sank into oblivion seemed once more to seeJOB’S NIECE 117

the bright sunset amid its dark setting, and had the feeling
that she must hold on to that picture and not let it go, be-
cause it somehow had the power to brighten a path for her
through the darkness that was about her.

Little Jean had not told half of her experiences that
afternoon as she went from door to door where she knew
they had children and offered her services, but then there
were more days coming, and to-morrow she would settle
down with Doris for a whole hour when she could get her
alone and tell her all about it. Doris would understand and
enjoy it. The others were always too much engaged with
their own affairs to listen to her. But Doris was dear.

John reflected with satisfaction as he closed his eyes for
the night, that he had managed to say nothing whatever
about his new job, and had got away with it without any
trouble. Now in the morning he would just slip off early for
school, and go to the store instead. He would do that for
several days, maybe a whole week or so, until he got things
going pretty well, and then if they tried to put anything like
boarding school over on him they would see. The truth was
he feared Doris would put a quietus on his business aspira-
tions until he was older and had more schooling. But he
hoped to make himself so necessary in that store that he
could appeal to Mr. Lyman for his influence in the matter
if it really came to,a showdown in the family.

So quiet settled at last upon the household, and a deep
sleep came upon the young things who had been through so
much in the past few days.

It must have been about two o’clock when Doris was
roused suddenly by a strange, wild voice calling hoarsely,
and groaning.

She sat up in bed and tried to open her eyes and remember
what had been happening. For the moment she thought it
was her father calling her, and she was back in the midst118 JOB’S NIECE

of his severe illness again, rousing at any moment to meet a
crisis.

The cold air from the window struck her thinly clad
shoulders and brought her to her senses, and she suddenly
remembered. Ned was sick. That must be Ned! He was
talking in his sleep. He sounded as if he were in a de-
lirium.

Doris sprang from her bed and hurried out into the hall.

Yes, the sound came from Ned’s room:

“Kid!” he was calling. “I tell you I haven’t got it! Td
get you the earth with a gold chain around it if I had it.
But I'll earn it! I will. Just give me a little time, and I'll
show you. I'll put it all over those rotters that follow you
around all the time. I’ll show you a good time, better than
any they give you, if you'll only give me a chance! Oh,
Zephyr !”

The last was an agonizing cry. The heart of the sister
standing by sank with a dull thud of agony. Did he really
feel like that about that painted dolly-face? Could it be
her brother who was enchained like that?

She laid a cold trembling hand on her brother’s hot fore-
head. It almost seemed to scorch her, it was so hot.

‘Zephyr! Is that you, Zephyr? Have you really come
to me, darling? Oh, it is too good to believe.’ And he

erasped her hand feverishly and drew it to his hot, hot lips,
kissing it wildly.

Doris shrank inwardly from those kisses that told her
brother’s story so plainly. Poor foolish boy! His life
ruined forever! For it was not thinkable that the girl she
had seen in the afternoon could ever bring him happiness
and peace. How was it possible that he had fallen in love
with such a girl as that? He with his good education, his
fine ancestry, his respectable heritage!

And yet he was only nineteen. Scarcely more than aJOB’S NIECE 119

boy yet. Oh why had not somebody seen this danger and
saved him from it? Why had she not been more to him?
Ah—she had been engaged in pursuits of her own, a love
affair with a refrigerator plant, that was what her engage-
ment to Milton Page now seemed as she looked back on it in
that swift instant of self-condemnation. Poor unformed
Ned! Well, he had not had a pleasant home! No wonder
he had wandered out to seek amusements elsewhere! If
she had only thought of this before!

But this all went through her mind like a flash while she
was feeling his pulse and realizing that he was very sick,
was really quite delirious, and that she must send for the
doctor at once.

While she was rousing Rose, and telephoning the doctor
suddenly there appeared a horror before her mind. If Ned
was going to be very sick, and it looked as if he was, would
she have to go and ask that Zephyr to come to him? Would
she have to humble herself and bring that awful girl here
to their home, with her dear brother, and have them all know
that she was Ned’s wife? Have her take first place beside
his bed and nurse him, and likely not know how? Have
her shut them all out of their own brother’s room if she
liked, and take the initiative in everything? Maybe send
away their old doctor whom they had known since they
were born, and have some less skillful physician who did not
know Ned’s constitution. Would Ned want that? Did
he really love her like that? Would it maybe be the only
thing that would save his life?

And if all that were so— Would Zephyr come? Would
she maybe just laugh, and blow him a kiss with her rosy-
tipped fingers and go on with her dance?CHAPTER XI

NeEpD was in a serious condition. Doris knew it as soon as
she looked at him. Her worst fears were confirmed by the
doctor when he arrived.

The patient had gone from one chill to another followed
by a burning fever. He no longer knew any of them and
lay moaning and breathing heavily.

Doris ran hither and thither, bringing ice, bringing hot
water, finding blankets and pillows, telephoning the drug
store for a new ice bag; running down cellar to see why the
house was so cold, wrestling with the furnace which proved
to be just going out; answering the telephone and the front
door-bell when the messenger boy came from the drug store
with the things; making coffee for the doctor, who had got
out of bed to come at her call. She ached from head to foot
with weariness.

“Now look here!” said the doctor eyeing her keenly, be-
tween swallows of coffee. “You can’t stand another bout of
nursing. Don’t get that in your head. You're all in now.
You've got to have a nurse!”

“Oh, no, Doctor, that’s impossible!” cried Doris. “We
simply can’t afford it. It’s quite out of the question. And
you know I can do it. You said I took care of father as
well as if I had had training.”

“The very reason why you can’t start in again now,” said
the doctor firmly. “Human flesh can’t stand everything,
and you’ve stood an awful lot for one little girl. I ought
not to have let you do it, but your father seemed so anxious
for you to be with him every minute. We've got to look
out or you'll be down sick next. That’s all nonsense about
120JOB’S NIECE 121

affording. I'll see that it doesn’t cost you anything. You've
got to have a nurse or else send Ned to the hospital, and
frankly, I don’t like the idea of moving him. He’s a pretty
sick boy, I suppose you know. These double pneumonia
cases are treacherous things to deal with. You couldn’t
expect Rose to help much. She’s only a child, and she looks
as white and frightened as one now, sitting up there be-
side him. As for Mrs. Dunbar, you might as well expect:
help from a white lily. No, Doris, there’s nothing for it
but a nurse. If I can just get Miss Smith she'll take the
burden all off your shoulders. She’s great! She’s just
come off a case yesterday. I'll go telephone at once. Per-
haps I can get her.”

He hurried off to the telephone and Doris stood staring
blankly out of the dining-room window at the sunshine on
the brick wall of the next house, wondering how ever she
was to make both ends meet.

The doctor came back in a moment with satisfaction in
face and voice.

“She’s coming. She'll be here in half an hour. Pll stay
till she arrives. Now, what I want you to do is to get off
your clothes and get into bed just as soon as she comes.
And you're to sleep till she calls"you to lunch. Understand?
I don’t want two patients at once. It’s expensive, you know.”

He tried to be jocular and Doris smiled wanly. Another
pall seemed to have descended upon the house. Had her
sunset promise failed after all? How was she to bear up
under it, and how were they to pay all these new bills?
A nurse! No maid! For Hannah had not yet returned.
Oh, it was terrible! She felt like sinking down and
giving up.

The nurse arrived and was installed. The doctor left
promising to return early in the afternoon, and adjuring
Doris to go to bed at once:JOB’S NIECE

“Don’t be discouraged, little girl,’ he said tenderly as
he was leaving. ‘We're going to pull your brother through
I’m sure, and there’ll be brighter days again by and by.”

He had known Doris since she was a baby.

Doris stood for a moment dazed in the dim hallway, the
morning sun sifting down over her bronze hair and tired
young face, and as she stood there the immediate problem
of life stalked up to her and made his bow: “I am Neces-
sity. How are you going to take care of me?”

Ah! She must get to work at once. This was not a
matter to wait while she lay down and slept. She cast a
hasty, frightened glance over the aspect of the intruder in
the home where Plenty had always reigned, and found it
was not good to look upon. She must do something at once.

On the hall console lay the neglected morning paper. No
one had read the papers since her father died. It» was
Daddy’s paper. The children never paid much attention to
it, except for the sporting page and the funnies now and then.
Florence’s only interest in it was confined to the advertise-
ments of bargain sales. Florence was great on bargain sales.
She often bought things for which she had no earthly use,
simply because they were bargains.

Doris’ first quick reflection as her eye fell upon the paper
was that here at least was an expense which could be cur-
tailed at once without discomfort to the family. Then sud-
denly she realized that there were “Want” advertisements
in the paper. Strange she had not thought of that before!

She seized upon the paper eagerly and carried it to her
own room, taking the precaution to close and lock the door.
That prying nurse would likely be poking her nose in to
see if she had obeyed the doctor’s orders.

She spread the paper out on her bed and began to search
for the advertising columns. There they were! Great
lengths of them. Help Wanted! Female! And thereJOB’S NIECE 123

right at the top of the column staring at her as if crying to
her from afar was Angus Macdonald’s advertisement :

“Wanted: A young woman of refinement, education, common
sense, and a sense of humor, who is willing to give at least
a part of every day to making a good time for an elderly woman
invalid. Good Salary. Call 577 Ridgeway Building after ten
o’clock.”

Doris read it over again carefully, weighing the possibili-
ties of each word. It looked good. Too good. The salary
was probably a mere pittance. A play job like that of course
could not be expected to bring in much money. It might
be worth looking into, however. Perhaps it would be a
good thing for Rose. Dear restless pretty Rose! How
was Rose ever to earn a living? She dreaded to think of
her having to go in an office.

Doris read on down the column, through appeals for
mothers’ helpers, and cooks, and nursemaids, and house-
keepers and stenographers, and alluring descriptions of
articles for sale which the world was fairly crowding to
purchase.

With a sigh she marked a few, but came back to the
first again and read it thoughtfully. Then raised her eyes
to the clock. Call after ten o’clock. It was now half past
ten, and suddenly in her mind’s eye she saw a long line of
competent refined young women making their way to the
Ridgeway Building. In a panic she arose, and moved
stealthily about her room making a hasty toilet. She
washed her face in hot water to take the weary look away,
and then dashed cold upon it until she coaxed a faint color
into her cheeks. Ina very short time she was ready.

She opened the door softly and listened. She could hear
the nurse running the water in the bathroom. No one else
seemed to be about. She slid quickly down the stairs and124 JOB’S NIECE

 

opened the front door quietly. She did not wish to be
challenged by the nurse, nor to have to explain her errand
to anyone. If there was nothing to this then nobody need
know anything about it.

As she walked down the street in the crisp early spring
sunshine she realized that she was all of a tremble. She
wondered if Rose would know how to look out for anything
the nurse might want. Perhaps she ought to go back and
tell her she was leaving the house for a little while. Yet
if she did there might be complications that would detain
her, and she might lose this chance—if indeed it was a
chance. Well, Rose had gone to lie down, and surely the
nurse would ask her if anything was wanted. The children
had presumably gone to school—at least Jean had asked
her if it was all right for her to go, and of course John
must have gone too. It was hard for a boy to hang around
a house where there was sickness. But that was good, for
there would be no noise unless Florence made it.

Doris hurried on to her destination, and after a short
ride in the trolley arrived at the Ridgeway Building and
entered the outer room of a handsome office suite.

There were other girls in the room, nine of them, waiting.
There was an oppressive odor of garments worn too long
without cleansing, mingled with several varieties of per-
fume. Doris hesitated as she glanced at the row of chairs
already filled. Now that she was here she had an inherent
shrinking from contact with an employer. She had come
too suddenly. She should have waited until she found
something more conventional, a position with one of her
father’s friends—and yet

 

 

As she stood hesitantly ready to flee, a secretary came up
to her:

“Will you write your name and address on this cardJOB’S NIECE

please? Mr. Macdonald will see you in your turn. I will
get you a chair.”

Doris accepted the card and pencil half doubtfully:

“The—position is not filled yet?”

“Not yet,” said the secretary crisply, eyeing her with a
trained glance and noting the trim tailoring of her outfit
approvingly. ‘You may write names and addresses of those
whom you wish to give as references, below your own, if you
like,” she added.

Doris filled out the card, giving Mr. Hamilton, her
father’s lawyer, as a reference. There were many others
she might have used, but she shrank from having anyone
know her position until she had worked a way out of it.

It seemed somehow a slight to her father that his daugh-
ter had need thus to go out answering advertisements. Yet
that was silly of course. She must face life as she found it.

She settled down into the chair that the secretary brought
and began to study her competitors.

They were stylish little flappers for the most part, three
of them chewing gum and conversing in ill-suppressed
titters giving an account of their last evening’s escapade.
One made her think of her new sister-in-law with a sudden
start, whom oddly enough she had forgotten during the events
of the early morning. One was openly using lipstick with
the help of a tiny, pocket mirror. At the far end sat a
shabby girl with wild hunted eyes and a hungry look.

Just beyond her on the ground glass of the mahogany
door that separated them from the inner office was the
name “ANGUS MACDONALD” in clear black letters.
Doris liked the name. It sounded like a story book. She
wondered if it was his wife he wanted amused. But then,
what was the use in getting interested in this? Here were
all these girls, nine of them, ahead of her, and another one126 JOB’S NIECE

just entering the door, a cirl with flat heels and shell-rimmed
glasses, who looked thoroughly competent to supervise any-
one’s happiness. She would probably get the place.

The inner door opened at that moment and a stout girl
‘na sleeveless black satin with large pink roses painted about
her waist came sullenly out. Her hair was shingled un-
becomingly and she wore a large, black hat. She sadly put
on a shabby coat that lay over the secrete ry’s desk. She did
not look like a prize winner.

As she strode past Doris her unfastened goloshes clanked
and clattered like a cowboy’s spurs, and pre esented a humor-
ous vacancy of nude-colored stocking between boot and ab-
breviated skirt.

The hungry looking girl had sprung to the doorway as
soon as the other girl had come out. Doris could see her
shadow against the ground glass as she moved away from
the door into the room. Then almost at once she came out
again, a disappointed look upon her face, her eyes more
hunted looking than ever. Of course Doris did not know
that in spite of her brief stay she bore with her a card which
would give her food and a chance to work for her board
till she could find a position. Macdonald was at way.

3ut the next three girls in succession that went in, with
their gum, their lipsticks and their rolled stockings, did not
remain even long enough for a card to be written. They
came out suddenly, and scaredly, and waited around for one
another with embarrassed giggles. As they passed out to-
gether into the hall one was heard to say in an arrogant
tone flung back as of a purpose: “Old Shrimp! I wonder
who crowned him!”

Pondering on this remark while the remainder of her pred-
ecessors made hasty trips into the inner office, ceded
briefly, and retired precipitately with downcast countenances,

Doris began to wish that she had not come. This AngusJOB’S NIECE 127

Macdonald was probably some old crab and she was likely
only wasting her time staying here. She was meditating
flight when the secretary touched her arm and smiled:

“Will you come in now, Miss Dunbar?”

Doris was ushered into Angus Macdonald’s presence.

He gave her one quick glance and arose, offering her a
chair and greeting her with deference and a kind of relief
in his manner. She was almost bewildered to find him a
good-looking young man with the ease and grace of one
accustomed to the best society. He did not look in the least
like an old shrimp. His face was grave and pleasant and
his eyes met hers with a direct business-like gaze that
she liked.

She took the chair offered her and found her misgivings
vanishing. The dignified office with its rich deep-toned
rugs, its handsome mahogany furniture, and its general air
of refinement and solidity gave her instant confidence. She
could answer the clear-cut questions without palpitating, and
she could meet the clear eyes of her interlocutor with a gaze
as clear.

“You live in this city, Miss Dunbar?” he asked by way of
introduction. “I wonder if you belong to any of the Dun-
bars I have met?”

“My father was John E. Dunbar of Dunbar, Reed
and Co.”

“Indeed? I think I may have met him—at a board-
meeting once, perhaps. But you say, ‘was,’ is he not living?”

“He was buried yesterday,’ said Doris, trying to keep her
voice steady and her lips from trembling. This was business.
She must not let her feelings be seen.

“I beg your pardon,” said the young man penitently, “I
had not heard. I am afraid my questions seem impertinent
to you, but—would you mind telling me why you answered
this advertisement ?”128 JOB’S NIECE

 

She lifted her eyes to his scrutiny once more:

“Certainly not,’”’ she said. “It was necessary for me to
get something to do. This appealed to me as something I
could do at once without training, and which would be at
the same time interesting.”

There came a sudden light in his eyes at that.

“T was only afraid,” she went on, and hesitated.

“Yes?” he helped her a little anxiously.

She lifted courageous eyes to his serious ones. He
could see that she did not like to say what she had in mind,
but she went bravely on:

“T was afraid that as it would require but half time the
salary would not be sufficient for my needs. I shall have
others dependent upon me you see.”

“T see,” he said pleasantly, “but I do not think we need to
worry about that. If I decide that you are the one for my
needs I shall expect to pay you a sufficient salary to retain
your whole time, so that when you are not employed your
time will be your own. Now, suppose we waive that matter
for a few minutes and get down to business. I hope you
will not consider me abrupt. You see I have but a short
time in which to arrange this matter, and I have already
interviewed a great many people. Our acquaintance must
progress rapidly if I am to be able to judge whether you
will suit my needs. The case is this. I am suddenly called
abroad on business matters, it may be for only a few weeks,
it may be for several months. I want someone to play with
my mother while I am gone and keep her from being lonely.
There is no such person among my kindred or immediate
friends that I care to ask to fill that position, therefore I
am forced to search for the right one among strangers.
Now, will you kindly tell me about yourself, what qualifi-
cations you feel you have for the job?”

A faint deprecating smile quivered about Doris’ lips:JOB’S NIECE 129

“T’ve had a good education,” she said gravely, and named
a noted woman’s college at which he nodded assent, in-
terestedly.

“T have read a great deal, not very deep things perhaps,
but I love to read. I can play a little and sing a little. I
love to get out of doors. And I love people,” she finished
almost desperately. “I’m afraid I haven’t very many qualifi-
cations perhaps—but I think I could work out some pleasant
playtimes.”

He had a sudden thought, quite irrelevant at that time,
that her eyes were very sweet with that shy wistful look in
them.

“I should say you had a good many qualifications,” he
said interestedly. “Would you mind telling me some of the
things you would do to amuse a lonely mother ?”

Doris looked at him speculatively :

“TI have not had very long to think about it,” she said
deprecatingly. “I just saw your advertisement about an
hour ago. And I don’t know that I could tell very definitely
until I knew the lady. I should have to adapt myself to
her pleasure. But there are a great many pleasant things
to do, First of all I should say there was reading aloud
—but perhaps she does not like that? I know some people
do not.”

“You like to read aloud?” he asked

“T love it,’”’ she said enthusiastically. “It is twice as pleas-
ant as reading alone because you are enjoying it with someone
else, and you often get the other’s viewpoint.”

Macdonald’s eyes kindled.

He opened a drawer at the right of his desk and took out
a clipping:

“Would you mind reading that for me?” he asked. “It’s
just a little thing I came across last evening. I would like to
enjoy it with you.”

9130 JOB’S NIECE

 

She took the bit of paper with a vague curiosity as to his
selection. She knew of course that her reading ability was
being tested, yet he had put the thing so delicately that she
had a sense of personal interest, as if he were making her a
friend and not putting her on the level of a girl about to be
hired to read aloud by the hour. It helped her to put aside
self-consciousness and read naturally :

“T think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

is prest
owing breast;

A tree whose hungry moutl

1
Against the earth’s sweet fi

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”

“You know it,” he said as she handed it back to him with a
look in her eyes as if it were an old friend.

“Yes, I’m very fond of Joyce Kilmer,’ she answered.

“IT never happened to come across him before,” he said
thoughtfully. “Life keeps me busy in other directions. I
must look up his other writings.”

“They are worth it,” she said. And then they both came
back to the business in hand.

“You read it well,” he acknowledged gravely. “But this
is a digression. You were telling me how you would amuse
a lonely person.”JOB’S NIECE 131

“There is music,” said Doris thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes
it is pleasant to just run over the fine things together with
someone who loves them too.”

Macdonald nodded thoughtfully.

“There are lots of new pretty things two people can make
together too,” she went on, “either for ourselves, or for some-
one who needs them. We could hunt up people who needed
pretty things, or useful things. And then there is always the
great out of doors. Is she able to go out much?”

“She is able, but I have not been able to persuade her to
go much since my father’s death. Do you drive a car?”

“Yes,” said Doris, a shade coming over her face. “But—
I’m not sure I can keep my car now.”

‘We have cars,” said Macdonald. “I would like her to
get out. She used to love it. She loved the woods and the
garden.”

“Oh, we could find woods and gardens, I’m sure,” said
Doris with a growing enthusiasm. “We might start a gar-
den for ourselves, just in a small way.”

He smiled appreciatively, but did not tell her of the lovely
gardens that surrounded his house, and the two professional
gardeners who presided over them.

“T have always wanted to have a garden,” mused Doris
forgetting herself for an instant. “There has never been a
place in town.”

“There would be a place I am sure,” responded the man.

“And then,” went on Doris, “we might have little parties
once in a while, just one or two people she loved to be with.
I could make a cup of tea and some cinnamon toast.”

Then suddenly the soft color mantled Doris’ pale face:

“Excuse me,” she said, “I’m letting my imagination run
wild, and it must seem very childish to you. I was simply
trying to think of things I might like myself if I were lonely.
They will perhaps seem very crude and unsuitable to you. I132 JOB’S NIECE

really could not tell very well what I would think of to do
for a person that I have never met. People are all quite
different you know, and I would try to study her and find out
her likes and dislikes. I would try to adapt myself to her
pleasure.”

“You seem most versatile, Miss Dunbar, and your ideas
are certainly interesting. I think I should enjoy doing some
of those things myself. Of course I cannot tell what Moth-
er’s reaction may be to all of them. And before we make
definite arrangements I shall want you two to meet.”

“Will you tell me what she is like?” Doris raised earnest
eyes to meet his glance. “She and I might not fit at all of
course. I would not like to undertake something I could not
carry out.”

A tender look came into Macdonald's eyes:
what shall I say?—Dresden china? A deli-

ec

 

She is like
cate old-fashioned cameo? She does not wear short skirts
nor bob her hair nor paint her face. She is a lady of the old
type with fine ideals. Since my father’s death t two years ago,
she has drawn within herself and shrinks from going any-

where. She does not seem to care to see even old friends

muc e and she will not entertain at all. She is not really
c ~ 7*' 1 inc 7 - + <9 ike > KAI an T
ill, just frail, and without her old-time interest in life. Now,

?

does that interest vou? Or does it sound dull to you? If it

does say so frankly, for this is a job which one would have
to come at cheerfully to be of service.”

“It interests me,” said Doris simply. “I should like to try
to make her happy. That is, if I can please her.”

“Yes, that is something that I shall have to work out. She
does not know of this plan of mine as yet, and I shall have
to think of a way to approach her with it which she will not
veto. A good deal will depend upon your first, meeting.
Can you go out to our home with me to-morrow afternoon at,

say, four o’clock? I will see that you are safely takenJOB’S NIECE 133

back to the city again by half past six, if that will be con-
venient to you.”

It was all over in a moment more. Doris found herself
agreeing to meet him at the office at half past three the next
day, he touched a bell on his desk and she felt herself dis-
missed. The pleasant secretary entered with a sheat of let-
ters for Angus Macdonald to sign, and a message from one
of his partners that a man was waiting to see him in the
inner Office.

Doris walked out past a constantly growing line of ap-
plicants, the flat-heeled one staring insolently at her through
the shell-rimmed glasses, as if resenting the fact that she had
stayed in the office so long. Suddenly Doris’ heart sank.
After all, she was not hired yet, only engaged to ride out and
be looked over. Doubtless there were numerous others to
be put through their paces also. Her mind carried the men-
tal picture of a quiet elderly woman with a cheery smile, and
a trimly tailored younger one with a certain charm and dateee
ness about her. They were not all gum chewers, and he might
find several he liked better than herself. He would probably
take them all home, the ones that he judged at all possible,
and let his lady mother choose. It was foolish for her to
suppose she could jump right into velvet like that, at least
it had seemed velvet, but after all he had not named the
salary. His idea of what was adequate and hers might differ
widely. She had better put the thing out of her mind and
be looking about for something else. Of course she would
keep her appointment, that is, if Ned was well enough for
her to leave the house for that length of time. If he was
not she would simply telephone she could not come.

Then her heart flew back to its home anxieties, and it
seemed to her that the car fairly crawled, so anxious was
she to know how her brother had fared in her absence. She
had entirely forgotten the nice long nap she was to have134 JOB’S NIECE

taken. She had an appalling undertone of worry about
Ned’s wife. If he did not get better pretty soon there would
be the question of whether she ought to be sent for or not.
What should she do? If there were only someone in whom
she could confide, someone to advise her.

In this state of mind she finally arrived at home, and as
she mounted her own steps the front door was flung open
and Rose appeared in the doorway tragically:

“Well, Florence has gone and done it now!” she announced
tragically. ‘Where on earth have you been? I’ve ran-
sacked the whole house for you. Everything’s to pay!”CHAPTER XII

Doris stepped into the hall and shut the door. Her face was
very white. She realized that all at once she was very tired.

‘What is the matter, Rose?” she said speaking low and
anxiously. “Is Ned worse? Tell me quick!”

“T don’t know,” said Rose dropping into a chair and mop-
ping the tears away with the back of her slim white hand.
He just moans and talks the same as ever. I don’t dare ask
that starched-up sphinx of a nurse. She came out and
glared at me and said we must have it quieter. As if I could
do anything with Florence!”

“Florence? What was Florence doing?”

“She’s gone and brought a lawyer here, that old Applegate
that Daddy used to dislike, the one that wears spats and
needs a hair-cut. They’ve been making out a list of the
things in every room, and she says she’s going to claim every-
thing. She says if we try to carry off things or hide any-
thing she'll bring it all out in court! She says she’s going to
have her rights.”

“Oh, how could she? And Daddy just gone! Bring a
stranger in here and disgrace us all! What a fool she 1s
when Mr. Hamilton explained it all carefully to her that there
wasn’t anything left for anybody. They didn’t go upstairs,
did they?”

“They certainly did. They tried to get into Ned’s room.
Florence said there was a set of old furniture in there that
Daddy had promised should be hers. She even shook the
door and called out things.”

135136 JOB’S NIECE

“But didn’t you tell her how sick Ned is?”

“I certainly did! But I might as well have talked to the
moon. She simply swept me aside, took firm hold of the
door-knob and threw the door wide open. But it didn’t
stay open long, I can tell you! That nurse sailed down on
them like a man-of-war. She simply swept them out into the
hall and closed the door behind her, and then she swept them
along to the head of the stairs, and told them to go down
and keep still, that she was in charge here, and they would
be responsible for a life if they carried on any longer; and
she said she would telephone for the police if they made any
more noise, that the doctor had given strict orders that it must
be very quiet. But I don’t know as Florence would have
given up even then—you know how she is—if the man hadn’t
got scared, and told her it would be bad for her claims if she
did anything we could complain about.”

“Oh, mercy!” said Doris sinking into the other hall chair.
“It seems as if there was no end to things. Where is she
now ?”

“Up in her room, I guess. I heard her lock the door.
The lawyer went away just a few minutes ago, and I heard
her promise to come to his office to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock.”

“Well, I guess I must tell Mr. Hamilton. It’s awfully
humiliating to let even him know, but he heard her yester-
day, so I suppose it doesn’t matter so much. But something
will have to be done with her. I wish I’d been here, I would
have tried to explain to that lawyer. If he has a grain of
sense he won't take up her case when he knows how things
stand.”

“It didn’t look to me as if he had half a grain of sense,”
said Rose dryly. “If you ask me I’d say he had a case on
her.”

“Oh! Rose!”JOB’S NIECE 137

** ’S the truth, Doris. You watch. The way he smirks
and smiles.”

“Rose, it’s too disgusting for you to talk like that. Father
would be—so disgraced!’ There were tears in Doris’ eyes.

“Forget it, Dorrie! J didn’t mean to hurt you. I only
think he’s a fool. There’s a pair of them it seems to me.
Doris, why don’t you tell Milt? If he’s worth anything in
the world to this family it seems to me he ought to come in
now and do some advising. He’s so fond of doing that.
But I should say he’s the one. He knows Florence, and he
ought to deal with her for us. He called up this morning.
Wanted you the worst way. Said he must speak to you at
once. I promised to tell you to call him up at the office
as soon as you came in. You better go call up now before
I go on with my tale of woe. He'll put me through the third
degree the next time he comes to find out the exact minute
you arrived and see whether you obeyed his command or not.
I certainly am glad it isn’t me that’s going to marry him.)
He wanted to know if you got your ring. What did he
mean, Doris? He hasn’t been spending money on another
ring for you, has he? Doris! Why, you haven't got your
ring on! Was the stone loose? Did you have to have it
fixed?”

But Doris was looking at her with annoyed eyes:

“What did he mean, Rose, did I get my ring? Oh, ’m
afraid he has sent it back. Rose, I might as well tell you.
I gave Milton Page his ring yesterday. I am not going to
marry him.”

“Good work!” cried Rose with a sudden lighting ot her
tempestuous eyes. “But Doris! Why? Not on account
of us?”

Doris looked at her sister with a sudden concentrating of
her gaze as if the question almost startled her:
‘“Why—yes, Rose, I guess it was on account of all of you.138 JOB’S NIECE

You couldn’t think I would go away and leave now, dear.”

The ready tears sprang to Rose’s eyes even as she sprang
to her feet vehemently:

“Did he ask you to leave us?” she cried furiously. “He
was a brute to do it. I always said he had a cruel mouth,
but you shan’t stay here and spoil your life for us. You
shan’t do it, Doris Dunbar! I’m grown up! I guess I can
take care of Jean and John. Ned is old enough to take care
of himself. I can get a job—I’ve got one now if I’ve a mind
to take it, and I can make a lot of money at it, too. You
needn’t give up your chance for us, Doris! I’m going to the
telephone this minute and call him up and tell him so. He
needn’t think we’ll be hangers-on either. I can take care of
them all right!’ and with a gasp like a sob and a toss of her
fluffy forelock Rose started for the telephone.

“Stop!” cried Doris, dashing after her and catching her
sleeve firmly. “We've got trouble enough, Rosie, without
your going and making more. Please let me manage my
own affairs, Sister. Nobody is going to make me get mar-
ried till I get ready.”

“But I’m not going to have you lose your last chance.”

“What makes you think it’s my last chance, Rose?” Doris
broke into an amused smile in spite of herself. “What
makes you think it’s my chance at all, little Sister?”

“Oh, well, if you’re putting it that way, that’s different.”

Rose dropped her arm to her side. “I don’t think it’s your
last chance. But I thought you did. And you said you
were doing it for us.”

“But I didn’t mean it that way, Sister. I meant it would
are all alone.

 

kill me not to be with you now, when we
I'd feel as if I were exiled. I wouldn’t go away from you
all now for anybody. I don’t want to! Don’t you under-
stand ?”

Rose locked glances with the honest eyes of her sister.JOB’S NIECE "139

“Doris, I don’t believe you love him!” she exclaimed with
a kind of joy in her voice.

“Perhaps not, dear,” said Doris gravely. “I didn’t know
it before. I haven’t had time to think about it yet. It seems
so trifling beside all we have to consider now.”

“You wouldn’t need time to think if you loved him,” an-
nounced the young woman of no experience. “Those things
are settled at once. And you wouldn’t consider it trifling
either if it was real. It would matter more than anything
else in the world if you really cared.”

“Perhaps so,” said Doris slowly, watching the glowing
face of her young sister admiringly. “But, chicken, how did
you know that?”

“T’ve had time to think!” announced Miss Rose with a
twinkle in her eye,” and besides I just hate that Milton Page.
He’s a selfish, superior, stingy man. I can’t abide him! It
always made me sick to think of you married to him, [ felt
just as though you were going to be dead when you did
ite:

“Why, Rose! You never said anything about it!”

“Of course not,” said Rose shortly. “You didn’t ask me
when you got engaged. It was you that had to live with
him, not me, thank fortune! If I was going to have the poor
fish for a brother-in-law I didn’t want to say anything [Pd
have to live down the rest of my life, did I? You wouldn’t
have turned him down just because I didn’t like him, would
you?”

“It might have made a difference,” said Doris thoughtfully.
“T couldn’t think of two people I loved not loving one an-
other. It would be awful!”

“It happens!” said Rose laconically. “There! There goes
the telephone again. Perhaps that’s Milt or one of the
others. I’m about sick of answering them. You better

go.”140 JOB’S NIECE

 

“What others?” asked Doris as she went over to the tele-
phone.

“Why, there were three men wanted their bills paid right
away or they’d know the reason why; and one said we
couldn’t have any more meat till his was paid. I tell you it
was fierce! And then there was the girl that wanted Ned!
She was the limit! I hung up on her!”

Doris took down the receiver with a heavy load of trouble
settling down on her heart again. Would perplexities and
difficulties never cease?

It was Milton. He was in his most imperious mood. He
seemed to think that Doris’ absence when he telephoned be-
fore had been willful impertinence on her part. His tone
implied that he had been most lenient with her the day before
in not insisting on her going out with him, and that now this
added insult was beyond all forgiveness. He demanded with
real anxiety in his voice to know if she had got her ring

7
|

fal x
iCi y-

—~”
~

“Ring!” said Doris. ay hy Milton, I gave it back to you.
Didn’t you understand?” Her voice was tired. Somehow
this seemed a trivial thing to come in just now.

“Child’s play!” said Pa age haughtily. “I supposed you
were above staging such scenes, Doris. Remember you
didn’t give it to me either. You left it lying on the living-
room table.”

“You didn’t leave it there!” said Doris, wearily. “I hadn’t
an idea you would do so careless a thing as that!”

“No, I didn’t leave it there, fortunately. I picked it up
and wrote you a note and fastened the ring firmly in it. I
sealed it in an envelope and sent it up to you by Jean. Do
you mean to say that she didn’t give it ;

 

‘é 2 re a - F . = 3? =
I have scarcely seen Jean since you were here,” explained
Doris. “Ned has been very sick. He has double pneumonia.
He is delirious. We had to get a trained nurse.”JOB’S NIECE 141

There was tragedy in Doris’ voice. Now if ever was the
time for the lover in Milton to come to the front. Surely,
surely he would see that she had more important matters than
a ring to look after!

He paused, just long enough for politeness, and then a
little longer with an edge to it to show her that she had
interrupted. He knew that she knew he hated to be inter-
rupted in a topic until it was finished. He had often spoken
to her about that habit of hers.

“That is most unfortunate!” he said in a cold tone. “Just
now, especially,” more frigidly, as if Ned had contrived the
time on purpose.

Doris made no answer.

“But, to return to what we were saying, do I understand
you to say that Jean did not give you my note containing the
ring? I am sure she understood that it was important. I
offered to pay her for delivering the note.”

“I presume it is all right,” said Doris hurriedly. “She
has probably put it in a safe place. Ill ask her about it
when she comes from school.”

“You certainly take it coolly, Doris. Will you kindly re-
member that the diamond is an especially fine one, and that
the price

“Oh, Milton, please,” said Doris the weary accent stronger
in her voice, “we have been through a very hard time. I tell
you Ned is very sick indeed and we had to get a trained
nurse.”

“All the more reason why you should locate the ring im-
mediately,” broke in the inflexible voice of the man, “with a

 

strange nurse around you cannot tell what might happen to
it, and I would scarcely be able to replace it for you for
sometime again. It would be very embarrassing
With flaming cheeks and lifted chin Doris answered:

“Milton, I cannot talk this matter over the telephone. I142 JOB’S NIECE

will attend to it the very first minute I can find. You will
have to excuse me now.” And Doris hung up the receiver
with a click and turned around to the waiting Rose:

“What did she say, Rose?”

“What did who say?” asked Rose in amazement. “Aren’t
you going to hunt up that ring before you speak to anyone?
Milton will be down on us with a whole police force if you
don’t do something about it.”

“Let him come,” sighed Doris sinking down into a chair
again with a weary little smile of contempt. “It will be only
one incident in the day. I declare I never before heard of
so many things happening to people all at once. Tell me
about the girl who telephoned Ned. What did she say?”

“Oh! She! Well, she asked after Ned as if she were
queen and he were a subject, and then she wouldn’t tell who
she was, just demanded I get him to the phone. When I
told her he was too ill to come she laughed. She said I
couldn't put that over on her. She was too wise. So I hung
up. The phone rang a long time after that, but I didn’t
answer it. Why? Do you know anything about her? You
do! Joris, I can see by the baffled look in your eyes that
that girl has done something you don’t like. What is it?
You might as well tell me. I'll have to know eventually.”

“T suppose you will,” sighed Doris sadly, and she felt her
lips begin to tremble. “But Rose, I don’t believe I ought
to tell you until I have Ned’s permission. I promised him—
at least I said K

“Bosh and nonsense! How can I intelligently answer
her on the telephone until I know what her status in life is?
You can tell Ned she called up and said horrid things and you
had to teil me to stop me having her arrested or something,
If you won't tell me things and treat me like a child I’m
going away. I tell you I’ve got a job I can have to-morrow.”
“Listen, Rose, I don’t want to treat you like a child, and IJOB’S NIECE 143

suppose if she’s going to make trouble you'll have to know.
But don’t go to threatening to leave. We have trouble
enough now without getting cross among ourselves. I only
wanted to save you from pain, dear. But I guess it’s impos-

sible.”

“Well, who is she?”

“Rose, she’s Ned’s wife!”

“Doris! You can’t mean that!”

The quick color in Rose’s cheeks had fled. Her eyes were
full of horror. She stared at her sister as if she thought
Doris had suddenly gone crazy.

“Tell me you are kidding, Doris,” she pleaded. “You
can’t mean that Ned would go and do a thing like that!
Why, Doris, Ned’s only a kid himself. Why, I can re-
member when he put on long trousers.” She caught her
breath in a sob— “Why, Doris, it’s not so very long ago!
Ned couldn’t do a thing like that! Why, Doris, she used

some bad grammar! I forget what it was, but it was some

perfectly terrible break in English!”

“Bad English isn’t the worst thing in this world,” sighed
Doris in a heart-breaking tone.

“Why? Is there something worse? Have you seen her,
Doris?”

“Yes,” sadly, “I went to see her yesterday.”

“@h, Doris, is it as bad as that?”

“Ves” said Doris sadly. “Tt is as bad as that.”

The sisters were silent for almost a whole minute looking
thoughts visualizing a possible future
Then Rose spoke with suddenly
ation had brought new wisdom

at one another, their
with this new sister-in-law.
controlled voice as if the revel

to her:
“Don’t look like that, Doris. There will surely be some-

thing we can do about ‘+t. When—did it happen? When

were they married?”144 JOB’S NIECE

“Night before last!”
“Oh!” said Rose with a quick catch in her breath. “How

could he? Then? Doris— Did you ever think that i
maybe—drinks—sometimes—just a little? H

 

e couldn’t na

done a thing like that if he had been himself, could he?’
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Doris, leaning her tired head back
against the wall and closing her eyes on sudden tears.

“Rose,
I dom’t know. I thought

[ smelled something on his breath
that night when he came in so late—but— Rose, he seems
about her. At least he was calling her name
after he became delirious!”

ae

Chat’s nothing. He may have been worried. I should
think he would have. Doris, Ned Dunbar knew better than
to go with a girl like that ever, even when he first met her.
He knew what Daddy would think about it. He’s

to be crazy

got a con-
scien ce, and probably is) s ashamed. But how could he go
and do a thing like that the night Papa was buried! Oh,
? Well, never mind. It’s best
not to know ene perhaps. What is she like? Tell
me quick. Is she like her voice?”

Joris, you don’t suppose—

“somewhat. She’s very pretty in a dolly fashion. Her

mplexion is painted on thick, and very vividly. Her eyes
are big and blue and staring. She has hair like a bright gold
cap, regularly waved as if it were made out of cloth. and
she wears very extreme clothes. You have a feeling that
everything is too short and too tight, and that her bare arms
and neck are kind of—well, dazzling! She is really start-
lingly pretty in a pink and white sort of way, with a wooden
smile and a stare like a doll. She looks just like Jean’s big-
gest wax doll. She doesn’t seem real. Her name is Zephyr,
and she is a dancer down at the Grand.”

Rose sat staring incredulously, trying to take in the situa-
tion:

“And Ned did that to us! Now! When we're all alone!”JOB’S NIECE 145

she said slowly, her face taking on an old look of disillusion-
ment.

“Don’t darling! Don’t take it so hard,” pleaded Doris,
going over and laying her hand softly about the slim shoul-
ders of her sister. “There'll be some way

‘Don’t say some way out of it!” crisped Rose. “There
isn’t! For such things! Ned’s got to stand by his bargain
of course. That’s the way the men of our family do.

3)

 

They’re game!”

“The men of our family do not usually marry ignorant
little dancers in a cheap theatre,” said Doris severely, and
then remembered that the brother she was discussing was
lying delirious upstairs, and that very possibly a swift way
out of it all was coming for him.

“Don’t let’s criticise Ned, dear, he is our brother, and very
likely it wasn’t all his fault. He hasn't had so much help
at home you know. We've all been busy with our own af-
fairs, and Father was—busy and sick. I think this has been
the cause of Ned’s illness. He must know what a terrible
thing he has done. In fact he said he had been a fool. I’m
and under such in-

 

afraid he has been among a wild set
fluences—sometimes people do things they wouldn’t—if they
stopped to think!”

“T know what you mean,” said Rose, lifting hard eyes to
her sister’s face. “I suppose you think he had been drink-
ing. I’ve smelled it on his breath several times lately, too.
I wondered if anybody else had. But he had no business
to go with people like that. He knew better before he
started.

“But Doris, you look tired to death. Have you had any
lunch? J’ll get you a cup of tea and some toast. I thought
you were going to lie down. The nurse told me not to
disturb you. She said the doctor said it was very necessary
for you to get some sleep.”

10146 JOB’S NIECE

“Rose, I had to go out. I'll tell you about it later. I'll
get a nap after I have something to eat. And don’t you tell
the nurse I haven’t been asleep all the morning either. I’ve
enough to do without fighting her.”

Rose hurried into the kitchen to get the tea and toast, and
Doris went to the telephone and called up Mr. Hamilton.

“That’s that anyway,” she said wearily as she hung up
the receiver and turned to Rose who came in with a tray ar-
ranged temptingly. “Mr. Hamilton says he'll settle Flor-
ence’s lawyer this afternoon. He says the man will be scared
stiff when he knows there is nothing in it for him. He’s
coming over sometime this afternoon to talk to Florence,
but he says he'll get in touch with her lawyer first, and tell
him how things stand. Then he'll put it up to the lawyer to
explain the case to Florence. It’s the only way, I guess.
She won't listen to us. Her mind seems to be thoroughly
poisoned against us. Strange she should suddenly turn
around and act this way. She never was openly hateful to
us before.”

“Oh, she thinks now Daddy is gone we don’t care what we
do to her. I heard her trying to tell the lawyer that this
morning. She said you nearly drowned her, and that you
hated her, and we all did too. My, wouldn’t it be just heaven
if we didn’t have to have her around any more? I wonder
why Father had to be taken and Florence left. She isn’t a
bit of good to even herself.”

" Vhere, now, Rose, don’t think such things. It doesn’t
do a bit of good and only makes things seem harder. Come,
forget it. What delicious toast you have made. And the
eggs are cooked just right. I declare I’m hungry, I didn’t
think I was. Rose, tell me about the job you think you can
get. I’m not sure I’m going to let you go to work at any-
thing. You’re too young.”

“Young your grandmother!” declared Rose looking sulky.JOB’S NIECE 147

“Pm not so many years younger than you, and I’m sure if
Jean can have a job I can. But you won't like mine, and
I’m not sure that I do either, only it pays five dollars a day
at the start, and that sounded good to me. But I suppose
that dancing sister-in-law of ours will queer me for this.
Doris, it’s the movies, and I know you won't like it a bit,
but I’ve got to do something and this was right there waiting.
I guess we’ve got to put our pride in our pocket.”

But Doris had laid down her teaspoon and arisen in con-
sternation :

“Rose! You in the movies? Never! You know what
Father thought of that! You would be up against all sorts
of things, and I won't stand for it. Rose, it’s enough for
Ned to have got us all into trouble without your going off
into a thing we all know is perfectly full of perils and tempta-
tions. Why, Rose, you haven’t an idea what you would be
getting into.”

“Haven't I though!’ Rose interrupted. “One of them
pinched my cheek yesterday afternoon and called me a pretty
child. He also said I had adorable ankles. I hated him !
I hate the whole thing. Of course I know there must be
some nice people in the business somewhere but he wasn’t
one of them, and I wanted to throw his old application in his
face and run home. Still, five dollars a day to begin on looks
good to me, and he said he thought I had a lot in my favor.”

“Rose, if you go into the movies I'll go out in the street
and dig ditches!” declared Doris frantically.

“You can’t do it, Sister, they don’t hire women for such
things.”

“Well, I'll get something equally horrid unless you listen
to reason. I don’t care what becomes of us if you are going
to throw yourself into that kind of an environment.”

“Oh, rubbish! Doris. I haven’t gone yet, have I? Vil
promise you this much, I won't sign up for the job till youJOB’S NIECE

 

148

agree I ought to. I’m not keen on it myself, and now with

this new sister-in-law it looks practically impossible. Come,

finish your lunch and go lie down to rest. I don’t see my-

self meeting the cold black eye of that nurse if you don’t.”
Doris sat down relieved:

3)

 

“Rose, if I thought you’d do a thing like that

“Well, one in the family’s enough. Since Ned has acted
up I guess I’ll have to be sedate. Is that Jean home from
school already? Hurry, Doris, and get to your rest. I
didn't know it was so late.”

Jean rushed in and threw her books down on the table:

“Oh, goody, eats!”” she cried. “Can I have some? I’m
hungry as a bear. Say, Doris, John hasn’t been at school
all day. He didn’t come home to lunch you know, and his

t him word he was to learn this before to-morrow
morning. He has a part in the school pageant and she wants
him to be ready to rehearse the first period sure.”

“John hasn’t been at school?” said Doris in a worried
voice. “Now what can he be up to? Oh dear! I didn’t
realize how complicated life was till Father went away!’ and
she rested her head on her hand wearily, her elbow on the
table.

“Never mind, Dorrie,” said t tle sister gently. “He'll

come home all right. You know I did. Mebbe he’s gone
after a job too, sister, like I told Milt yesterday he had.”

Doris smiled wanly at her.

“You're a dear little sister,” she said tenderly, “but how
lid you happen to tell Milton that? And say, Jean, did
Milton give you a note for me with my ring in it?”
“sure. I laid it up on your bureau. Didn’t you get it?
It had a queer funny little hard lump in it. I felt it. Was
that your rin

oC
Ais .

“~s9

“There, Doris, I told you Jean would know where it is.JOB’S NIECE 149

Now you go up and put it away, then lie down and take a
nap.”

“T don’t seem to remember any note on my bureau when
I was dressing. When was it you put it there, darling?”
Doris spoke anxiously. “I wonder if that was before Flor-
ence was in there, Rose? I'll go up at once. Come up,
Jean, and show me just where you put it.”

“Tt was in the morning, just before Milton went away.
You had gone up to Ned’s room, Sister, and I put it right
by the pincushion where you would be sure to see it.”

They hurried quietly upstairs, but when they entered Doris’
room they found no note by the pincushion. Little Jean
turned white and her eyes grew dark with trouble:

“But I put it there, Sister, I surely did!” She looked as if
she was going to cry. “Was it your beautiful ring ty

“Never mind, darling, we'll find it. Don’t you worty,
dear,” said Doris with troubled eyes. It certainly was going
to be awkward if the ring could not be found. How could
she possibly explain to Milton? And would she dare to go
to Florence and ask if she knew anything about it? It was
all a horrible mess. She dropped down on the edge of her
bed to try to think what to do, and suddenly the door opened
and Rose came in excitedly shutting the door behind her and
speaking in a whisper:

“Doris, that girl is down there! She’s got a man with
her and two other girls, and she says she’s going to see Ned
at once or she’ll know the reason why!”CHAPTER Ail

Doris had a sensation of weakness in her knees as if the
joints were going to turn the wrong way and drop her on the
floor. It seemed to be nothing with which she had to do,
and for a moment she swayed and reached out her hand to
catch hold of the bureau. Her eyes seemed to be dark-
ened as if she were suddenly walking into deep gloom with
a thunder-cloud overhead. She closed the lids to clear her
vision, and a ray of crimson like the clear bar of light from
a ruby sunset shot through the darkness. For an instant
she seemed to see that brown field with the fringe of bare
trees against a leaden horizon, and then the clear appearing
of the great ball of fire that shot out flames of glory as it
slowly sank below the hill.

It was only a flash while she closed her eyes and passed
her hand across them and yet there came to her that wonder-
ful reassurance of the presence of an Almighty Helper.

She did not stop to reason it out that it was foolish and an
impossible whim of fancy. She lifted her head, her vision
cleared, strong in the conviction that Another was guiding
this destiny, not herself. And now it was her duty to go
down to that girl. She did not know what she was to say,
but she was sure that it would be given her what to Say.

The trembling left her. Her weariness was forgotten.
She could hear loud voices and snickering laughter in the
hall below. Perhaps they would even dare to come up the
stairs. The sound of laughter must be stopped at all costs.
Ned must not hear that voice. There was no telling what it
might do to him in his delirious condition.

150JOB’S NIECE 151

Doris went down those stairs as if she had wings on her
feet; and yet so softly she came that the little huddled group
‘n the front hall did not hear her until she arrived among
them.

They suddenly hushed, startled. There was something
about her quiet authority as she came to them that took away
their nonchalance for the moment, and made them ill at ease.
Without realizing it they obeyed her motion to go into the
living-room, and she followed them and closed the door.
Then with the door-knob still sn her hand and her back to the
door, she faced them. So they looked at one another for a
full second before she spoke, and then her voice was low, con-
trolled, throbbing with earnestness. It’s tone held them for
the instant:

“T must ask you to be quiet,” she said. “I am sure you
will understand when | tell you that my brother is lying
very ill upstairs and the doctor said that it was most meces-
sary that there be no noise whatever in the house. He is
quite delirious, and in a high fever. He has double pneu-
monia. He does not know any of us, and moans and tosses
continually. It might be perhaps fatal to him if he should

happen to recognize any of your voices and be excited by
them. May I ask you to speak very low? And will you be

I shall be glad to answer ally questions ?” Doris
iness, far from

,

seated?
looked toward Zephyr with a pleasant friendl
expressing the hostility her outraged soul was feeling.
Zephyr was wearing a slim fur coat of leopard skin
wrapped tightly about her willowy form, and a wicked little
black hat stabbed with a single topaz, like a great bright evil
eye. She looked like a stunning big cat about to pounce upon
her victim. Her eyelashes were heavily beaded, and her
cheeks and lips were vivid against the contrasting pallor of
chin and brow. She was really a most startling apparition
to arrive in that quiet conservative home for the first time in152 JOB’S NIECE

the guise of daughter-in-law of the house. Doris looked at
her and felt something terrifying grip her heart.

But the big handsome cat did not sit down, instead she
drew her leopard skin with its bushy fox border still closer
about her slim limbs, slouched with a droopier curve to her
anatomy, and stared. She did not appear to have taken in
a word that Doris had said. She just stood there with her
impudent smile and stared. It was the young man who
spoke for her. He was an insignificant young fellow with
a weak face and a tiny ineffectual moustache, but the same
air of utter disregard for anything that might stand for
authority or law or courtesy.

“Look a here!” he blared forth in a voice that was cer-
tainly not quiet. “You ain’t puttin’ none o’ that over on
us. We're wise! See? Weain't takin’ any bluff like that.
This here lady’s here to see her husband, an’ I’m here to see
that she sees ‘im. See?”

He took a step nearer to Doris and his hot breath
was wafted to her, rank with spirits. It was all too
evident that he had amply reinforced himself for the inter-
view.

Doris drew back from him and went a step nearer to
Zephyr.

“You understand, don’t you, that Ned is too ill to know
you or to understand anything that you would say to him?
We haven’t any of us been allowed in the room since morn-
ing when the doctor brought a trained nurse to look after
him. It seems unfortunate that everything should have hap-
pened this way, but I guess it cannot be helped. We are
all most anxious about my brother. The doctor says he is a
very sick man.”

Then suddenly the red lips opened and the dolly spoke.
Fler china-blue eyes had that glad doll-stare as if they couldJOB’S NIECE 153

only express certain set emotions and had to use those for
everything.

“Of course I don’t believe all that rot!” she said sweetly
while her eyes smiled. “I know you're trying to keep us
apart, and of course you would make up any story to do it.
I don’t know how you’ve got the gag on him, but I mean to
set him free, and take him home with me till you come
across. See? If Neddie hasn’t got the nerve to stand out
against his precious family I have, and I mean to use it!
Now, stand aside and point me the way to his room. I’m
going up. And if you try to stop me I'll have you all out in
print in the papers in the morning. I guess you'll like that,
won't you? ‘FAMOUS TOE DANCER SUES DEAD
BROKER’S SON FOR SUPPORT.’ Oh, that makes you
turn white. I thought it would hit you that way. Now,
get out of my way. I’m going up to find my husband.”

Doris had backed off against the door and was standing
at bay, her face very white, but her head up, and a calm line
of control to her pale lips.

“Tisten!” said Doris. ‘You needn’t believe me. Sit
down and I will send for the doctor. If he says you can
go up I will not stand in your way. But it is my duty to
prevent my brother from being disturbed ‘1

Doris’ words were suddenly brought to an abrupt finish.
The tall lithe cat-girl stealthily advanced, and reaching out
a furry paw gripped the daughter of the house by the arm
unexpectedly, giving her a quick yank which swung her com-
pletely around, and sent her spinning across the room into
the arms of the dapper little man of the pointed moustache.
He caught her wrists and held them in a mean little grip.
Then with a taunting breath that was almost a snarl, Zephyr
slid forward to the door.

But suddenly, unexpectedly, almost uncannily, the door154 JOB’S NIECE

swung inward before she had touched it, and the burly doctor
stood glaring under shabby eyebrows straight into the
soubrette’s gaudy little face.

“What is the meaning of all this?” he asked in a rumbling
voice that was terrifying, while yet it did not rise much
higher than a whisper. “Don’t you know that there is
serious illness in this house? Don’t you know that you are
endangering the life of my patient?”

He took the slim furry shoulder of the leopard-girl in his
big powerful hand and shook it till the pearly teeth rattled
behind the red lips, and the china-blue eyes stared up at him
in fright.

Silently from the other door of the living-room there en-
tered with his brief case in his hands, the immaculate and
elderly lawyer Hamilton, and advanced upon the rear flank
of the enemy. For Rose had been busy on the telephone.

Before Doris had opened her lips to cry out against her
captor the young man with the pointed moustache was taken
in a strong white hand, by the collar, and lifted several inches
from the floor, where he was suspended, wildly striking out

with his shiny feet and attempting to make a landing,

in-
cidentally releasing Doris as he rose.

The two attendant flappers in giddy little costumes huddled
near the window and measured the distance to the ground.
They had no desire to be shaken or suspended. They had
their living to make, and had not yet attained stardom. This
was not their quarrel.

“Now!” said the doctor, shutting the door and stepping
to the centre of the room with his clutch still painfully on
the slim leopard shoulder. “Let me understand this. Young
lady, what business have you and these others—” his sharp
eyes swept the frightened group, “coming into a house of
sickness and disturbing the peace?”

Zephyr was regaining her insolence. She gave him theJOB’S NIECE 155

benefit of her china-blue stare, and her rosy smile with the
hard little glint behind it:

“T have come to see my husband, Doctor, and they won't
let me in. I understood he was very ill ?

“Ooh-hh?’? spoke up little Jean from the back of the
room, “I heard her say she didn’t believe it. I heard her
tell Doris it was all a big bluff that Ned was sick.”

The doctor looked over at Jean with a twinkle in his stern
eyes. Then he singled out Doris:

“Ts that so, Doris?”

Doris nodded.

“Well,” said the doctor, “I think we’ll deal with you later,
young lady.” And he put Zephyr to one side, still holding
his mighty grip on her shoulder. “Now then, who are all
these? You two girls? Who are you? Ned isn’t mar-
ried to both of you too, is he?”

The girls shrank back and answered in awed tones: “No,
sir,’ and shook their heads.

‘“Well,—_then you may go!” and he pointed with a big
burly finger toward the door.

The girls rose in hurried unison, as it were, with a single
glide, and disappeared into the hall. A moment later the
soft closing of the outer door, and the echo of four little

high heels clicking on the pavement outside indicated their

 

hasty departure.
“Now you!” went on the doctor pointing toward the still
struggling young man. “Who are you ?”’
“Pm—Arthur—Hig-g-g-ins!”” chattered the champion be-
tween strugglings to get more than one foot at once on terra
frma. The accurate Mr. Hamilton, having once measured
the distance from the floor to a little above the normal height
of the young man’s head, was calmly, patiently endeavoring
to maintain his arm at an equilibrium, which made it difficult
for Arthur Higgins to seem dignified.156 JOB’S NIECE

“You didn’t happen to be the best man, did you, Mr.
Higgins?” asked the doctor with a tantalizing twinkle in his
eyes again.

“Y-y-yes. I d-d-did!” said Arthur.

“Well,” said the doctor authoritatively, “you’re not the
best man any more. You can be excused also.”

The doctor nodded to Hamilton, who lowered his victim
and got out his fine white handkerchief to mop his heated
brow.

‘But,” spluttered young Arthur, “I’m not going away till
Zephyr goes too. I came here to help her see her husband.
I came here to protect her.”

“Well, you’ve protected her, haven’t you? You're not
needed any longer. You'll find a policeman outside, I think,
and you can argue the matter with him if you like, but I
advise you to walk straight on by, for if you undertake to
tackle him you'll find to a certainty that you’re not the best
man now. Good-by.”

There was something in the doctor’s eye that quelled the
young man, and nervously twirling the sharp ends of his
tiny moustache he possessed himself of his hat and walked
out.

“Oh, Arty! You aren’t leaving me all alone!” wailed
Zephyr.

Arty cast one regretful cowardly glance at Zephyr, and
hurried by the doctor.

“You're not alone as I understand it,” growled the doctor
looking into the blue eyes of the bride in his hand. “Your
husband’s family are all here. I’m sure you will need no
protection. Now, Miss Zephyr, if you will sit down we'll
just look into this matter. What was your idea in coming
here? No, don’t go out, Hamilton! Doris! Yes, come in
Rose, I shall want you all here. It is best to understand the
situation. What did you come here for?”JOB’S NIECE 157

Zephyr looked sulkily down at her gloved hands and did
not answer till the doctor had asked her the third time.

“T came to see Ned.” She answered like a sulky child.

“What did you want of Ned?”

Suddenly she looked up with all the boldness of her kind.

“Tt’s none of your business!” she said, and added words
that are not to be written here.

“That'll be about all of that!’ said the doctor in a tone
that was like a whip lash. He was conscious of the pitiful
quiver of Rose’s eyelashes and Doris’ lips. His face became
like a great rock for sternness. “You'll answer my question
straight with no embroidery, do you understand? Or you'll
go out from here under escort. Now, is that plain? And
no amount of blackmail is going to give you license to say
what you please in the presence of these ladies.”

There was the tiniest inflection on the word “ladies” that
went deep in Zephyr’s crude aspiring soul, and made her
cringe under her painted smile. But there was real peril
in the doctor’s threat. Zephyr knew that, favorite as she was
at the Grand, her position would not bear an ugly publicity.
She must not anger a man with a steel-blue eye and a square
jaw like that. He was proof against all her arts and he
seemed to see right through her waxen mask,

“Now, will you tell me what you wanted of your hus-
band?”

“T needed some money,” said the girl sullenly. ‘He's my
husband and he ought to support me, and besides he

3)

 

promised
“T thought that would be it,” said the doctor sagely.
“How long have you been married to Dunbar ta
“Since night before last!’ There was defiance in the
girl’s eyes.
“Who supported you before that?”
“T did. I’m Zephyr at The Grand!” she answered loftily.JOB’S NIECE

 

158

He looked her over thoughtfully.

“Lost your job?”

Her nostrils quivered angrily:

“Well, I guess anyhow not!”

“Well, then, I guess you'll have to go on supporting for a
while yet. Dunbar isn’t going to be in shape to do it for
the present, and these young ladies are certainly not respon-
sible for your support. What’s your salary?”

Zephyr scorned to reply.

“Rose, will you just look up the number of The Grand?
I want to talk to the manager a minute.”

Zephyr sprang to her feet furious, with a lithe leopard-like
movement, her face drawn in an angry fury that reminded
Doris strongly of the girl’s mother.

“You do that and I'll have a policeman onto you!”
threatened the girl. “I don’t believe a word of this about
Ned’s being sick. He’s just hiding away from me and you
all are helping him. I knew he didn’t mean to get me that
ring when he promised, but he can’t get out of it. I'll have
it in all the papers by night. There won't one of his
friends look at him any more after I get through with him.
[ll .

“Got the number, y

 

Rose?” asked the doctor ignoring the
want to talk to that

 

et,
girl. ‘“‘Here, give me the phone

angry , 2

theatre manager.

Zephyr sprang at him more catlike than ever, and grasped
his arm:

“You ajn’t going to do that!” she screamed. “Now
doncha!” she began to plead as he took down the receiver.
But he ignored her and called a number, at which she sud-
denly became frantic and abject together.

“Till go away!” she pleaded. “I'll wait awhile,” she urged
eagerly. “’Cause you see they don’t know I got married.
They might put me out of a job entirely for that. They sayJOB’S NIECE 159

it ain’t good publicity to have a girl known to be married,
especially a dancer.”

The doctor covered the mouthpiece with a large hand and
paused :

“Well,” he said looking at her doubtfully. “Of course if
you're willing to be reasonable till Dunbar gets well :

“Oh yes, £ will,’ said Zephyr eagerly, and then as the
doctor hung up the receiver she hastened toward the

 

door.
At the threshold some of her courage seemed to have re-

turned:

“How do I know Ned is sick?” she asked sullenly. “You
haven’t given me any proof. I don’t know any of you.”

The doctor turned with an elaborate flourish:

“Tet me introduce Miss Dunbar—” waving his hand to-
ward Doris, “and Miss Rose Dunbar, Miss Jean Dunbar.
This gentleman is Mr. Hamilton, the family lawyer, and J
am Doctor Wright, the family physician. Now, young wos
man, if you can keep your mouth shut while you are up-
stairs I will take you up to the door and let you have a look
at your husband. That is all. You must not stay in the
room. It might be fatal to him, to have a stranger—that is
to have you unexpectedly— Unless, indeed, you would like
to give up your job at the theatre and come and nurse him?
How about that? Could you get off?”

Doris and Rose caught their breath and looked at one an-
other in horror, but Zephyr withdrew hastily toward the
door:

“Oh, no!” she said anxiously. “I couldn’t get off. And
just now seeing he’s sick I wouldn’t dare risk losing my job.
Someone has got to earn money of course.” She cast a
direful glance at her two sisters-in-law— ‘And I guess I
won't go upstairs. It might disturb him. I guess I oughtta

be hurrying. It’s getting late.”160 JOB’S NIECE

She grasped the door-knob hurriedly.

“Just as you please of course. You're entirely satished
now that it is true that your husband is sick?”

“Oh yes!” She opened the door.

“Of course it would be quite appropriate for a wife to
nurse her husband,” observed the doctor affably. “It would

s3

 

really be your place you know

“Oh, it wouldn’t be possible!’ said Zephyr looking nerv-
ously at her wrist-watch. “It’s much later than I thought.
I must go. I have an extra rehearsal, and they'll fire me
if I’m not there on time.”

She vanished as a young leopard might have disappeared
into the forest. Doris and Rose stood staring after her with
faces drawn and gray. When they heard the last click of her
little heels down the street Rose suddenly dropped her face
into her hands and burst into tears. Doris turned with white
lips toward the doctor:

“How can I ever thank you!”

“Oh, nonsense, little girl. She’s just a big bluff. You
don’t need to be afraid of her. Cheer up Rosy-Posy!
This isn’t the worst thing you may have to face in life.
Ned isn’t the only boy that ever made a mess of his life at
nineteen. He ought to be walloped of course, and he'll
probably have some hard going ahead of him, but there'll be
a way somehow for him to come out on top 1f he wants to
take it. It'll be hard maybe, and uphill, but there’s always
a chance to get straight if one wants to try. Now you two
girls stop bearing the burdens of the nation, and run off and
rest. This isn’t your burden anyway, only in a secondary
sort of way. Of course you'll have some mortification
coming to you, and it’s too bad, but mortification isn’t the
worst thing in the world. Ned’s the one that’s got to bear
this, and when he gets well don’t you girls try to bear it for
him, and make it easy. You've spoiled him that way sinceJOB’S NIECE 161

he was a little shaver. Let him take his medicine now.
He'll be a better man for it. Don’t be too easy on him.”

“But will he get mellise asked Doris anxiously.

“T certainly hope so,” asserted the doctor energetically.
‘He's a pretty sick boy of course, but there is everything in
his favor. He’s young and strong and got a good nurse.
Now, Doris, you run back to bed. You look like a sick
kitten. How long did you sleep this morning ?”

The telltale color flamed softly in Doris’ cheek.

“T thought so. You didn’t sleep at all. Now positively,
my orders must be kept! Rose, you take your sister up to
her room at once and tuck her into bed. Lock her in if

necessary, and see that she Sears: No coming down till

she has slept at least two hours.”

“But I can’t go just yet. J must see Mr. Hamilton.”

“T can tell Mr. Hamilton everything,” said Rose. “You
weren’t even here when it happened.”

So, protesting, they hustled her off to her bed much against
her will. Tucked in softly under Rose’s coral, silk down
quilt, with the shades drawn and the air blowing in below
them, she sank into wonderful oblivion for a w hile, forgetting
all her troubles.

Downstairs Rose gave a detailed account of her step-
mother’s actions that morning, and the lawyer was most Coml-
forting in his kindly formal way.

“My dear child!” he said. “T am so sorry that you and
your sister have had this to bear in addition to all your other
troubles. I am afraid it is my fault. I should have in-
sisted on further talk with Mrs. Dunbar yester day and saved
you all this. Of course she does not understand that there
is no property, and that therefore she has no case. I will see
her at once and make matters plain to her. As for this
shyster Applegate, I know him well. He'll not touch the

case when he finds there’s no property back of it, leonly
11162 JOB’S NIECE

hope he has not already extracted a retaining fee from the
poor foolish woman. He is great on retaining fees. Could
I see Mrs. Dunbar at once?”

“She went cut about an hour ago,” said Rose. “But I
don’t think she had any money. She had to borrow some
from Doris to get gloves for the funeral. She never keeps
money.”

“Well, it will be a good thing if she hasn’t already wasted
any on Applegate. Then I'll just run downtown and hunt
him up. I'll let him know how things stand, and then sup-
pose I return about five? Mrs. Dunbar will likely be back
by that time don’t you think? And I'll try to talk her into
some sense.”

As soon as the door closed on the kindly lawyer Rose
went in search of her little sister, who was just preparing to
go out and hunt up a job for the afternoon.

“Jeanie, you can’t go away now,” said Rose. “It’s up to
you and me to find Doris’ ring before she wakes up. Milton
Page is coming this evening, and Doris has simply got to have
it by then. You know how the note looks and may be able to
find it more easily than I. Let’s go to Florence’s room first,
before she gets back. Don’t make a noise. Doris mustn't
hear us.”

And the two crept silently upstairs to their stepmother’s
room,CHAPTER XIV.

“Sister, I don’t understand why we go to Florence’s room,”
whispered Jean, when the door was finally unlocked by a key
from another room. “I know I put that note on Doris’
bureau. Why don’t we look more in Doris’ room?”

“Because Florence was snooping around in Doris’ room
yesterday, dear. I caught her at it,” Rose whispered back.
“She thinks we want to get the property away, and she is
trying to find papers, I guess, something to prove her rights
perhaps, I don’t know. Now we mustn’t talk, Jeanie, the
nurse might hear us, and we must work fast for Florence
might come any minute. Keep your ears open, and get to
work.”

Rose made quick work of the bureau drawers, rummaging
swiftly through jewel boxes, and under lace collars, every-
where that a letter might be hidden, or a ring stowed away.
She went through the desk and the closet, and even looked
beneath the pillows on the bed, but no ring did she find. She
did come upon the packet of letters belonging to Doris, how-
ever, which Mrs. Dunbar had taken from Doris’ desk the
day before, and stowed them quickly in her pocket for fur-
ther examination, recognizing her father’s handwriting, and
knowing that her stepmother could have no possible right
to them.

Suddenly Jean exclaimed softly: “Oh, Rose, I’ve found a
piece of it. Yes, I’m sure. It’s ‘Miss Do—’ and it looks
like Milton Page’s writing.”

She was going through the waste basket carefully, bit by

bit, and the basket was rather full of torn papers. But be-
163164 JOB’S NIECE

 

fore Rose could answer they both heard a key click in the
front door.

“Hurry! Bring the whole basket along!
hastily closing the little drawer of the desk from which she

99

whispered Rose,

had just extracted Doris’ letters. “Go into my room just as
softly as you can and lock the door till I knock. Quick!

}??

1
lL
{ JT must lock this door!

She’s coming!

Jean made a silent escape with her waste basket, and Rose
had just accomplished the locking of the door and vanished
down the back stairs as her stepmother came into the lower
hall. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her heart
was beating wildly. If worst came to worst she would face
her stepmother with the truth, but it was not best that she

v

Tt
L
should be brought to bay till she had more evidence concern-

ing the ring. Florence might get frightened and not tell, if
she thought they were trying to catch her.
Rose went to the sink and began to rattle the dishes to
cover her escape.
Suddenly she heard a voice in the hall. It was Florence's
voice. She had not gone upstairs yet. She was talking over
hles

the telephone. Rose stopped breathless. Who was Florence

“Ts that you, Mr. Applegate? Yes? Well this is Mrs.
Dunbar. I’m afraid I’m a little later than I promised to be,
but I have secured a little money, and shall be able to give
till I hope
liars, Mr.
plegate. Will that be all right? Oh, thank you. Yes, I

1? I see. Well, that will be

quite all right. Just mention that you have an appointment

1 something. It isn’t as much as I hoped but s

hink it is enough. It is twenty-five do

can try. And you will cal

with me. The children are so careless. I shall be expecting
you. Thank you. Good-by.”

Rose could hear the soft swish of Florence’s dress as she

mounted the stairs, and then the key in her door. She stoodJOB’S NIECE 165

still trying to think. Twenty-five dollars! Where in the
world did Florence go to get twenty-five dollars? Had she
been to some of Father’s friends and borrowed it? Had she
perhaps drawn a check somewhere, notwithstanding she knew
that there was nothing in her bank account to make it good?
Was there anything she could have sold? The problem was
too great for Rose to solve. But the fact remained that
wherever she procured it she was about to surrender it into
the hands of this rascally lawyer. And with the family
funds already in such a low state it certainly should be pre-
vented. What ought she to do? Try to telephone Mr.
Hamilton? No, for Florence might hear her. If only Mr.
Hamilton would come first! But would Florence listen to
him? And then there was the question of the ring. Had
that really been Milton’s note in the waste basket? And if so
what had Florence done with Doris’ ring? She must get up-
stairs and see what else Jean had discovered.

She glanced at the clock. It was half past four. Hastily
wiping her hands she hurried softly upstairs, tapped with the
tips of her fingers on her own door, and was let in by an
excited little sister.

“Tt’s all here, Rose, every bit. See!”

There on the bed Jean had pieced it all out and Rose read,
quickly comprehending the whole story from what Doris had
told her:

“And Florence must have read it!” she said without realiz-
ing she was talking to little Jean.

‘Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just tore it up,” said Jean.
“She’s so queer and ‘different’ sometimes,” said the little girl.

“No,” said Rose thoughtfully, “I think she read it. She
wouldn’t dare throw it away until she knew what was in it,
and she must have felt the ring too. There wasn’t any sign
of the ring in the waste basket was there ?”’

“No, I’ve looked very carefully,” said Jean.166 JOB’S NIECE

“Well, dearie, she’s done something with that ring! I’m
sure of it! See, she knew that Doris didn’t know about the
note. She thought she could get away with it without any-
body knowing. She maybe is just doing it to punish Doris
for throwing that water on her when she was in hysterics.
She wouldn’t really mean to keep it of course. But it will
be awful for Doris if she doesn’t find it before Milton comes
this evening. He talks so much about nothing !”

“T know!” said the little girl, and then with a sigh, “Oh
dear! I wish Florence was more mothery, Rose. Why isn't
she?”

“Tust because she can’t think of anybody but herself!”
answered Rose. “Hark! Isn’t that the door-bell? Mercy,
what next! My hair is in a mess, and I ought to be getting
dinner this minute.”

“I'll go!” said the little sister, and sped away down the
front stairs. Rose hurried down the back stairs, and stepped
softly into the dining-room to see who had come. She was
relieved to find it was only a boy from the drug store with a
prescription the doctor had ordered.

As she stepped back from the door her eye glanced across
the telephone table set just in the turn of the stairs in the
hall beyond the dining-room. And there right upon the tele-
phone book lay Florence’s new gloves and her pocketbook.

Quick as a flash Rose realized her opportunity. She had
but to reach out her arm and the pocketbook and gloves were
in her possession. She hesitated about the gloves and finally
left them lying where she had found them. The pocketbook
she hid in her blouse and retired to the laundry back of the
kitchen to investigate. Here if anywhere that ring would
be put for safe-keeping of course. She must be quick about
her investigation too, for Florence would most certainly dis-
cover her loss in a minute or two and return for her property.
Rose locked the door between kitchen and laundry andJOB’S NIECE 167

opened the pocketbook. Yes, there was a roll of bills!
Five tattered five-dollar bills. Queer. Where did she get
them? They smelled dirty, too.

Rose glanced over the few addresses and business cards
in the purse to see if they gave any clue, but they did not.
Some of them had pencilled memoranda about prices of
bargains she had seen. It was in the last little flat pocket
fastened with a leather flap that she found the pawn ticket,
and stood staring at it with eyes filled with consternation.

“A pawn ticket! She had never seen one before but she
could not help knowing what it was. There was Doris’ ring
described. Florence had pawned Doris’ ring! And for
twenty-five dollars! Milton’s vaunted ring to bring only
that! Even in the stress of the moment a smile of amuse-
ment came to her lips at that. How insulted Milton would
be to know his ring brought only twenty-five dollars at a
pawn shop.

But what must she do about it? She tried to steady her
pulses and think clearly. She knew that it might be only
the matter of a minute or two before Florence was upon her,
and she could no longer control the situation. She wished
Doris were here, but yet she shrank from having Doris
know. Ina flash all sorts of possibilities went through her
mind. The man might sell the ring, or change the stone or
lose it or something before it could be recovered, and then
what would Doris do? She could scarcely offer Milton
three hundred and fifty dollars in place of his ring which
she wanted to return. It was a terrible situation. Deter-
minedly she forced herself to read the pawn ticket over.
There were but few words on it. The street and number of
the pawn shop, the date, and price for which the ring was to
be redeemed. It was called a diamond solitaire.

Rose was quick-witted. It did not take her long to act.
She hid the pocketbook inside her blouse again and stepped168 JOB’S NIECE

into the dining-room. She could hear a door upstairs open-
Florence would be coming down for her things per-

s. She dared not risk going up for her hat and coat.

=
ap
She glanced about. There on a chair was Jean’s little school
sweater and blue felt hat. Rose seized upon them, and
slipped out to the kitchen, struggling into the little sweater
that was much too small for her, and jamming on the small
round child’s hat. She did not stop to think how she looked.
At another time she would have gladly borne torture rather
than to have been seen in the street in sucha rig. But Rose
was not thinking of herself now. She was only thinking of
Doris.

As she sped on down the street she realized that she was
carrying off Florence’s twenty-five dollars, and that she had
so to speak killed two birds with one stone, for now Florence
would be unable to give the Applegate man his retaining fee.

She dared not take a trolley and had no money to take a
taxi. She remembered that the purse had contained only a
little small change besides the bills, and she might need it all
to get the ring back. They would likely charge interest or
something. However that would not be fair of course, be-
cause they could not have had the ring many hours. Flor-
ence must just have returned from pawning it.

Arrived at the pawn shop at last, after a devious and
breathless trip, she was seized with a great fear to enter.
Somehow it seemed that all horror and shame were con-
centrated in this necessity of going into that place, that awful
place with three great balls hanging over the door and the
ghosts of people’s old wedding rings and violins and opera
cloaks displayed in the window. Yet she knew she had to
do it. And now she began to consider her costume, and
wonder if perhaps they might not think her a fraud appear-
ing in such a rig and demanding the ring. Maybe they
would give it to no one but Florence! How terrible! AndJOB’S NIECE 169

how could she possibly make Florence go and get it? Would
they have to resort to force to compel her? Would they have
to get a policeman to make her do it?

With such wild thoughts rioting through her throbbing
brain, Rose took a deep breath and entered.

A grimy, greasy individual with much black beard and a
large nose approached her. Rose opened her lips to repeat
the speech she had prepared on the way down, but she found
they were trembling too much to speak. She drew another
deep breath and tried again:

“T have come to reclaim the ring which my mother left here
a little while ago,” she said, and found her voice growing
steadier as she went on. “There has been a terrible mis-
take made, and the ring belongs to someone else. My mother
must return it at once.” She held up the pawn ticket in her
trembling hand.

The man looked at her keenly with his little black eyes:

“You are not de lady vot brang de ring !”

“No,” said Rose. “She could not come again. I have
come in her place.”

“You got de money?”

“Oh yes,” said Rose. “Twenty-five dollars!”

“T sharge two dollars fer my throuble !”

“Why, you haven't had any trouble!” said Rose indig-
nantly, now losing all her fear. “And I haven’t got that
much money with me. [ll give you all I have!” She
emptied out the silver and pennies. There was sixty-seven
cents.

The man shook his head:

“Sharge two dollars fer my trouble !” he reiterated.

“Well, I haven’t got it and I haven’t time to wait. That
ring belongs to someone else, I tell you, and must be returned
at once! You don’t want to be arrested for receiving stolen

goods, do you?”170 JOB’S NIECE

The man took on a change of countenance.

“Oh, vas it den schtole dot ring vos? Vy didn’t you say so?
I get. You put de money out. I get. You gif me de
ticket.”

“No,” said Rose, “I keep the ticket till you give me the
ring, unless you want me to go and get a policeman.”

The man eyed her half frightened and trotted off to a
safe at the back of the room. He fumbled a moment in the
safe, and then came back with the ring.

He handed it over and gathered up the bills and ticket.
Rose slid it on her finger and fled out the door, back home,
two miles and a quarter on feet that almost seemed to have
wings.

She slipped in the back door without meeting anyone,
divested herself of her queer outfit and started upstairs just
as Jean came flying down the back way:

“Rose, where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere for
you. Florence has lost her pocketbook and she’s very angry.
She’s got a queer man in the living-room, and he seems to
be angry too. She has been running up and down stairs and
calling you. She says she knows she left her purse with her
gloves by the telephone.”

“Hush, Jean! Don’t let her know I’m here if you can
help it.”

“Well, she wants to wake Doris up. She says she must
have her pocketbook. She has to pay a bill.”

“Well, she shan’t. T’Il stop her if it comes to that. Jean,
run in the dining-room and call up Mr. Hamilton’s office
quick as you can, and talk as low as you can be heard. You
know his number, 2267 Granniss. Tell him they are both
here, he'll understand, and for him to come quick! I'l
run up and guard Doris’ door. She didn’t disturb Ned, did
she?”

“No. I guess she’s afraid of that nurse,” smiled Jean.JOB’S NIECE 171

“Oh, Rose! There’s the door-bell. Which shall I do first ?”

“Go to the door. It may be Mr. Hamilton. If it is take
him right into the living-room where they are, quickly be-
fore they realize who it is.”

Rose waited breathless by the swinging door till she heard
Mr. Hamilton’s formal voice greeting Jean. Then to her
surprise she saw Jean bringing him down the hall to the
dining-room.

“Fie wanted to see you first, Rose,’
ushered him in.

“T just wanted to tell you, Miss Rose,” began the lawyer,
“that you need not worry any more about Applegate. I have
seen him and he has agreed to refuse the case. I presume
that is what he is in there for now.”

“No,” said Rose, “I think he is trying to get some money
out of my stepmother first. Jean says she has been hunting
her pocketbook, and crying about not finding it, and I heard
her telephone him that she had twenty-five dollars for him
now and would get more as soon as possible.”

“You don’t say!” said the lawyer startled out of his usual
quietness. “The rascal! He promised me he would see
Mrs. Dunbar and drop the case at once. Did she find her
pocketbook? I’m afraid there will be no getting back any-
thing she has given him.”

“T don’t think she found it, not yet!” said little Jean.

“No, she hasn’t found it, I’m sure,” said Rose with her
hand clasped tightly over the folds of her dress where the
empty pocketbook was hidden.

“T had better go in at once,” said the lawyer. “Miss Rose,
you might be where you can hear everything. It is often
well to have a witness. Both of you come in after me.”

Mr. Hamilton walked to the living-room door and flung
it open.

,

she whispered as sheCHAPTER Vv

Rose felt a sudden hysterical desire to laugh. There seemed
to have been so many dramatic scenes following one after an-
other in that living-room. It would make a good play. And
was the present one about to be a comedy or tragedy, she
wondered ?

The lawyer stood still in the doorway for an instant, the
two girls just behind him. They had come so silently that
they had not given warning to the two who were quite ab-
sorbed in their own affairs.

Mrs. Dunbar was weeping, softly and pleadingly:

“I’m so sorry,” she said, “I can’t think where that pocket-
book has gone. I must have lost it on the street. I went out
on purpose to get that money for you. I was sure I would
be able to get three hundred and fifty as I promised you. I
have always been given to understand—at least—there should
have been that coming to me—and all I could get was twenty-
five. But I shall sell some of my valuables and get the rest
of the retaining fee at once.”

“Madame, it is quite unfortunate that you should have lost
your pocketbook of course, but surely you can borrow of
someone. I really must insist on this retaining fee. My

time is so full that I cannot afford to waste even the hour that
it has taken me to come here, for nothing; and I have clients
clamoring for me to take their cases in charge. Of course I
have to be fair and square, and I have made the rule that
whoever pays first gets first attention. Your case I take it
requires instant attention, but unless you give me your fee
this afternoon, at least a part of it, I shall in honor be obliged

172JOB’S NIECE 173

to let someone else come first and you will have to take your
chances later.”

“Ohhh, Mr. Applegate!’ wailed Mrs. Dunbar. “Can’t you
possibly make an exception in case of a poor widow who is
being cheated out of her livelihood? I'll gladly make the
final fees double the three thousand that I promised if you
will just go ahead as if I had paid you. You see I am abso-
lutely helpless——”

Hamilton suddenly stepped into the room:

“What does this mean, Applegate?” he said in his scrupu-
lously polite tone edged with severity.

The man Applegate turned fairly green with the surprise
Olt:

“Why !—I—! Oh,— Is that you, Hamilton? Yes, I
was about to tell Mrs. Dunbar that I am unable to take the

+)

 

ase

“It certainly did not sound like that, sir!’ said Hamilton
facing the shyster lawyer with a steady gaze. “It sounded
very much as if you were endeavoring to get a fee out of
this lady under false pretenses. Mrs. Dunbar, I hope you
have not given him anything.”

The lady drew herself up haughtily.

“T will thank you, Mr. Hamilton, to let my affairs alone,”
she said loftily. ‘I am done with you until we meet shortly
in the court room where I expect to get full justice and my

—Y
a
—_ c
CDE cee
=

ooked very bedraggled as she stood facing the two
men, = eyes pink with weeping, a pathetic droop to her
mouth, which at some time had been pretty, and might yet
have been if it had not been borne down at the corners with
self-pity. It occurred to Rose with sudden startling force,
that perhaps her father might really have been attracted to
her at one time. Perhaps he really thought he loved her
when he married her. This idea somehow gave Rose a3

   

  

174 JOB’S NIECE

twinge of something like pity for the poor foolish woman
who was making so much trouble for them all; and a kind of
a sense of protection rose within her. After all, she was a
part of their family. A feeble trying part, but she must be
protected even against herself.

Something of this perhaps even the family lawyer felt for
he faced the other man indignantly.

“Mr. Applegate,” he said in his most severe tone, “I am
here to protect this lady, even against herself. You under-
stand what that means. You will now explain to her ex-
actly why you cannot undertake her case.”

Florence Dunbar drew away from him indignantly and
turned to Applegate with expectation.

“My dear lady,’’ began Applegate clearing his throat and
rubbing his hands together, “as I was about to tell you be-
fore this gentleman interrupted us, I have found that it will
be quite impossible for me to undertake your—” he paused
for further words and Florence looked at him half-puzzled.
She was not stupid if she was foolish and impulsive.

“But I don’t understand, Mr. Applegate. You were just
urging me to get the money together at once for the retaining
fee, this afternoon, you insisted! If you did not feel that
you could take my case why were you demanding money of
me?. Are you letting this man intimidate you?”

“Oh, not at all, not at all. You don’t understand, my dear
lady. It was not as a retaining fee that I wanted the money.
It was as a remuneration for the trouble I have already taken
to look into your case. I cannot afford to make research
such as I was obliged to make into your case, without re-
muneration, you understand. You must know that my time
is valuable, and I am charging you a very small fee.”

“But why are you giving up my case if you have already
begun to work on it?”

“Because I find, dear lady, that you have no case at all!”JOB’S NIECE 175

“No case! What do you mean? You told me the case
was very simple and plain.”

“Ah, yes, I told you that my dear lady on your representa-
tion of the matter. But when I came to investigate I find
that you have no case whatever. You see there 1s no prop-
erty, my dear lady.”

“No property! What do you mean?” with flashing eyes.
“There is this house, isn’t there? You cannot discount that.”

“But this house is mortgaged up to the last dollar it would
bring.”

“Well, I intend to pay off the mortgage of course some-
time. People have their houses mortgaged for years and
keep on living in them. It is ridiculous to tell me that I
cannot.”

“But my dear lady, you have no money. You cannot pay
the interest on your mortgage, and the interest I find has
been accumulating for some time.”

“T don’t believe it,” said Florence with a toss of her head.
“Mr. Dunbar did not do things that way. Mr. Hamilton,
why don’t you tell him that there is plenty of property,
bonds and mines and all sorts of things? I heard you read a
long list of them out of the will.”

“Mrs. Dunbar, I am afraid that you did not hear me also
say that all those things had been given as security in a new
enterprise which your husband was launching, and from
which he hoped to reap great gains. But the enterprise has
fallen through, or practically so, and has taken everything
with it. This house, I regret to say, is no longer yours. It
was taken over to-day by the mortgagee, and you are only
staying here out of his courtesy on account of Ned’s very
critical illness. It is hard for me to have to tell you these
things, and we hope that a way will somehow be found for
you to be comfortable, but it is my painful duty to tell you
the truth.”176 JOB’S NIECE

Florence stood looking from one man to the other, incredu-
lous. Till at last it began to dawn upon her that there must
be at least some truth in it all. Then her roving eye rested
upon Rose and Jean standing in the shadow of the hall door.

“Rut what about them!” she said pointing excitedly to the
two. “His children! They have property, don’t they?
The will you read said this house was theirs and they might
let me stay here as long as I lived. I heard you read that.
Now do you call that justice?’ Her eyes were filled with
tears again, infuriated tears. “Is that the way a husband
would treat his wife? Mr. Dunbar never treated me with
injustice. I know he did not write that will.”

“Mrs. Dunbar,” said Hamilton taking on a patient look,
“suppose you sit down and let me tell you the whole story.
Then you will understand better. Have this chair. Now, I
will explain. This house did not belong to your husband at
all, ever. He merely held it in trust for the children. The
house was built by the first Mrs. Dunbar’s father and given
to her as a wedding present. At her death she gave your
husband a life home here, but she willed the ownership of the
house to her children. Now, do you understand how your
husband had no right to will the house at all? It was not
his. It merely passed by law at his death to the rightful
owners who were his wife’s children.”

“Then how did it get mortgaged?” asked the excited little
woman. “There is something very crooked about it all, I
think.”

“No, nothing crooked. Your husband was the trustee of
his children’s property, and when he found an investment
which he felt would double the value of their property he
mortgaged the house and put the money into it. It was not
his fault that his project failed. He may have been unwise
in his judgment, but that was all. There was nothing wrong
about what he did, and there has been no injustice done toJOB’S NIECE 177

you or to anyone else. If your husband had lived long
enough to put his project on its feet and his plans had been
fulfilled, both you and his children would have inherited a
very fine property. It is most unfortunate that he has left
you in this situation, but it really cannot be helped, Mrs.
Dunbar, and there is no good to be gained by spending more
money in fruitless fighting to get possession of something
that is not in existence any longer so far as you are con-
cerned.”

Suddenly the truth seemed to penetrate the widow’s con-
sciousness, and she sank down in a perfect torrent of tears,
moaning and groaning, and showing herself well on the way
toward one of her screaming spells.

Mr. Applegate looked about for his hat, and backed to-
ward the hall door:

“T really think,” he said, looking helplessly about on every-
body present, “that I had better be going. I am just in the
way here—” but no one could hear him on account of the loud
weeping of the lady. He approached Hamilton and repeated
his suggestion, “I think I had better be going now.”

“Certainly,” said the lawyer, “do go, and I would suggest
that you never return. Miss Rose, will you close that hall
door so that the invalid will not be distressed by this noise?
And Jean couldn’t you get some smelling salts or something,
and—I would suggest—a glass of water !”

The lawyer really was most helpful. He seemed to know
just what was the right thing to do. For an old bachelor

of staid habits and conservative ways, he certainly showed
himself adaptable. He patted Mrs. Dunbar on the shoulder.

“There, now, Mrs. Dunbar. Calm yourself. You've
been under a heavy strain. Of course we all knew that if
you understood you would not have taken this stand. But
you do not need to worry. Not in the least. There will be

a way out somehow. What you need is a good rest.”
12178 JOB’S NIECE

And after a minute or two of rather wild sobbing Florence
actually quieted down into a pitiful little wail like a sick child
that wanted to be comforted. Rose watched the phenomenon
a moment and then silently slipped from the room motioning
Jean to follow her.

“Let’s leave them alone for a few minutes. Maybe he can
do something with her. I’m going to make a cup of tea and
take it in. Florence is great on afternoon tea. Isn’t there
some of that fruit cake left in the tin box? If not take
some of those crackers and spread a little marmalade on them.
Anything fancy may take Florence’s mind off herself for a
few minutes.”

“But Rose, oughtn’t we to do something about that ring
while Mr. Hamilton is here? I’ve looked everywhere I can
think of while you were gone and I can’t find a sign of it.”

“Hush, Jean. Don’t ask me any questions. I'll tell you
all about it to-night when we go up to bed. But the ring is
found. I’m going to give it to Doris as soon as she wakes
up. But listen! Don’t mention it to a soul, not in any way,
unless you should happen to see Milton and he asks you, of
course. Then you can just answer: ‘Yes, Doris has it.’
Not any more, mind you. Now hurry and get the crackers
while | make the tea. We'll put them on the little silver tray,
and use the Dresden cups—two cups, and the little gold sugar
and cream. Florence hates lemon you know.”

They managed an inviting tray, and entered the living-
room a few minutes later to find the erstwhile irate lady
reclining comfortably on the davenport, her head on a blue
velvet pillow, her feet covered with a silk rug, and her eyes,
which were still pink from crying, half shaded by a black-
bordered handkerchief of finest linen. She was listening
docilely to the kindly explanations of the lawyer, who had
somehow managed to soothe her pride and bring her to listen
to reason.JOB’S NIECE 179

“But—Mr. Hamilton—” she was saying with her delicate
lips in a tremble like a tired child’s, “you don’t mean that
we won't have anything at all. Not literally, Mr. Hamilton.
Why, how could we live? I simply have to have some
money right away. In fact I’m obliged to. I—I-—have
obligations.”

“Suppose you just hand all your obligations over to me,
Mrs. Dunbar. That’s what I’m for, to look after the obli-
gations. I think there will be enough somehow to cover the
actual bills.”

“But—this is not—exactly—bills—” she murmured as she
sipped her tea and tried to control an anxious look. “It is
—purely a personal matter I might say, Mr. Hamilton. And
__how are we to live if there is no money?”

“That question will have to be considered of course, Mrs.
Dunbar. I would rather wait until I have thoroughly in-
vestigated all claims upon the estate before I am prepared
to say whether there will be a few hundreds at your disposal
or not.”

Florence caught at the hope:

“How soon will that be, Mr. Hamilton?”

“T cannot be sure,” he answered. “T must wait until I
can hear from some creditors to whom I have written, and
T must also wait until I have thoroughly investigated one or
two distant pieces of property whose value is not quite
established. It may be that the sale of these things will
bring a little more than our first estimate, or it may be lower.
But rest assured, Mrs. Dunbar, I shall do all in my power to
get every cent possible for you and the children. Now,
Mrs. Dunbar, you have had an exhausting afternoon. Would
‘t+ not be well for you to lie down until dinner is ready?

I am afraid you may have to suffer for the strain you have
been through unless you rest. And these girls are going
to get a good dinner and call you down pretty soon, I180 JOB’S NIECE

know. I heard Rose rattling dishes out in the kitchen.”
Florence turned a languid eye on her stepdaughters and let
a feeble smile trickle into the corners of her mouth, giving
the appearance of a pleasant understanding between the girls
and herself.
“The little old hypocrite!” murmured Rose below her
breath as she slipped back into the hall and shut the door.

Pd

“The smooth-faced hypocrite!

“Don't, Sister,” sighed little Jean. “I thought it was nice
of her to look so pleasant. It was so nice of her to be sort
of mothery.”

Rose gathered the little sister into her arms and hugged
her.

“Never mind, kittie, we'll mother you, Doris and I. I
didn’t know you felt that way kitten. I guess I’ve been
cross sometimes too. But don’t you mind. You're a dar-
ling, and we'll all look out for you. Florence isn’t much but
a naughty child anyway. You needn’t mind her.”

The little girl clung to her sister, and there were tears in
her brave sweet eyes.

“You aren’t cross, Rose,” she said earnestly. “T’ll like
you real well for a mother—when—when—Doris is gone.”
She caught her breath in a quick little sob.

“Nonsense, child, Doris isn’t going,” said Rose joy-
ously.

“Oh, yes she is!” said the little girl sorrowfully. “She’s
going right away. Icouldn’t help hearing. I was in the back
hall just coming into the living-room yesterday when they

¢

were talking, and I heard Milton tell her they were going to
be married next Wednesday and go West. He said—he—
didn’t—want—our family

 

hanging—around his neck—
e-e-either,”” sobbed the child softly. ‘‘He—he-he-said—I had
—to go—to—schooooool,” she wailed. “He’s only going to
let me come to see them vacations. Sometimes! Oh, Rose,JOB’S NIECE 181

what shall we do?” and the little girl clung to her sister and
sobbed as if her heart would break.

Rose held her tight and tried to quiet her.

“Listen, Jeanie, Doris isn’t going! She told me so

“Oh—y-y-y-yes she is!’ came the soft wail— “Ssshe—
e-c-can’t help it. Milton always mamamakes her do every-
thing—he-he—wants Ie

“Well, this time he won't,” said Rose with a dark look in
her wrathful young face. “You see! Doris won't leave
us, and she isn’t going to marry him! She told me SOut

“Not at all?” The child’s face was lifted with a look like
a rift in a summer cloud.

“Not at all, kitten. Now, come on and let’s get dinner.”

“But—” said Jean, still incredulous, “how can she help
iter

Then both girls suddenly became aware that the door-bell
had been ringing a loud peal through the house, and just as
they turned to go and answer it the front door opened and
Milton Page walked in.

“This latch was off,” he stated condemningly. “That is
a very dangerous thing to do in a city like this one. You
might lose everything. Who is to blame?”

But’ nobody answered him for Rose suddenly vanished
through the dining-room door and fled up the back stairs.
Poor little Jean had to stand still and take the punishment
while Milton Page stood hat in hand and delivered an address
on carelessness in a loud dictatorial voice. Jean found her-
self trembling and feeling as if she should sink right down
through the floor. Milton was so unpleasant when he got
anything like that on his mind. Oh, why did Rose go and
leave her?

And then suddenly relief came in the form of the nurse
who walked majestically down the stairs on her rubber heels
her starchy uniform flapping about her militantly, her eyes

\»?182 JOB’S NIECE

cold and steely. She came straight up to Milton Page and
addressed him, in a cool, incisive voice like the blade of a
sword.

“This clamor must cease!” she declared commandingly.
“I won't be responsible for the case unless we can have quiet
here. If you’re a visitor, get out! If you’re a relative for
pity’s sake stop your whining and get to work! I want
somebody to go and get some oxygen right away, and some-
body else to get the doctor here quick. That young man is
sinking fast, and I don’t wonder the way things are carried
on. Hurry, you man, and get me some oxygen, or you'll
be responsible for a life!”

But Milton Page stood turned to cold fury eyeing the
woman who had dared speak to him in this disrespectful way.
He faced her with his steel-gray eye that never failed to strike
terror to the soul of his adversary. But Nurse Smith never
turned a hair. She cast a brief passing glance of contempt
and gave him a shove aside as she strode to the living-room
door where she could hear quiet voices, and swung it wide.

“Will somebody get me the doctor quick! And run for
some oxygen? That boy’s in a critical condition! This
man out here doesn’t seem to have good sense!”

It was Doris at the top of the stairs who heard the low-
voiced word of command. Doris with the sleep in her eyes,
and a flush on her cheek, who waved Rose to the telephone,
and herself flew down the stairs like a swift bird past the
astonished and indignant lover and out the front door toward
the drug store.

Mr. Hamilton arose hastily from his ministrations beside
the couch and came forward rubbing his hands with an
offering motion. The lawyer was most eager to be of serv-
ice. But the nurse had turned to go back upstairs. Mrs.
Dunbar began to wail hysterically once more.

“Oh, Mr. Hamilton! I can’t bear all this excitement!’JOB’S NIECE 183

she cried out, and suddenly the starch-clad nurse wheeled
back upon her with a capable pointing finger.

“Here! You!” she spoke incisively once more. ‘“You’ve
got to shut up! Every time the patient hears you he goes
into a frenzy again. You've either got to stop your snivelling
or get out of the house! You don’t want him to die, do you?
Well, he will if you keep this up. You’re nothing but a
selfish spoiled woman, and you’ve no right to make a racket
when there’s serious sickness in the house. If the family
wants to stand it when they’re well that’s up to them, but I’m
in command here and you’ve got to keep quiet!”

The nurse departed in grandeur leaving Mrs. Dunbar
cowering in her corner of the davenport, too indignant to
even cry.

Milton Page by this time, with a withering glance after
the nurse, had withdrawn from the hall and now stood on the
steps looking after his recalcitrant fiancee.

He glanced back and saw Jean still standing in the hall,
her little hands clasped in fright held over her wildly beating
heart.

“Here! Jean!” he ordered with a motion of his head.
And when she came: “Run after your sister and tell her
to cottie back! It is not fitting that she should go rushing
through the city street bareheaded that way. Tell her I
will telephone for oxygen! Such madness to get excited!
No one can get anywhere if he loses his head. I thought
Doris had better sense!”

But Rose’s voice came in a low call.

“Jean! Come here, quick!” And Jean fled from the
presence of her would-be brother-in-law. Milton stood there
a moment undecided, and finally fitting his hat carefully upon
his head, he walked down the street, reluctantly, toward the
drug store into which Doris had disappeared.

Milton Page had gone decorously, and had but just reached184 JOB’S NIECE

the drug store as Doris came out accompanied by a boy
carrying oxygen tanks. They almost knocked him as they
passed. “Doris!” he said in a voice intended to arrest her
attention without conveying his wrath to the errand boy.
But Doris did not turn her head. She was panting and
rushing on ahead. He had to take great strides to catch up
with her. He decided then before he reached her that he
would have to discipline her in some way for this unseemly
conduct when she was once thoroughly married to him.
When he had reached her side he took firm hold of her
shoulder and gripped her almost painfully.

“Doris! This is madness!” he said in a low, angry voice.
“You are beside yourself! You are making a spectacle of
yourself! I suppose you are doing this just to get it back
on me for speaking plainly to you yesterday morning. But
I want you to know that I will not put up——”

“Let go of my shoulder, Milton!” said Doris excited.
“My brother is dying! Quick! I’ve no time to talk!”

She slid out of his grasp like a flash and away, leaving
him to walk slowly and indignantly back to the house alone.

He went morosely, watching her lithe figure as it fairly
flew along the pavement and up the steps of her home. He
could scarcely remember ever to have been so vexed with
anybody. Strange that she should suddenly develop these
traits. He had never seen her headstrong before.

The doctor’s car dashed up to the door just as she en-
tered, and Milton walked more slowly, reflecting that Doris
might have to show the doctor to Ned’s room before she
would be at liberty to talk with him. He never doubted
even then but that she would come down at once as soon as
her first anxiety was allayed. She had always seemed so
docile, so utterly at liberty for any wish of his. Naturally
she was overwrought after caring for her father so long;
and now Ned’s sickness had unduly excited her. FoolishJOB’S NIECE 185

of course, for Ned could not really be very sick. That
outrageous nurse had probably exaggerated it. Why, he
had seen Ned but the night before swaggering along on the
street with a lot of girls. He must speak to Doris about
the kind of company Ned was keeping. He did not wish
the family of his wife to be in the public eye unpleasantly.
He would speak to Ned himself. Perhaps sometime he
would offer to sit with him and let the nurse go out. Now,
while he was in bed would be a good time to talk to him
when he could not very well get away. And while he was
about it he would just give him a good dressing down for
several other things he had noticed that needed setting
right.

So meditating he reached the house, and went slowly up
the steps. But just as he was about to enter someone inside
snapped the night latch on, and pushed the door shut with
a click! Milton Page was shut out and would be obliged
to ring the door-bell! Now, who was to blame for that?CHAPTER XVI

But Ned Dunbar did not so easily slip out of his lightly
assumed obligations into another world. The doctor arrived
and a crisis was tided over for the time. The household
settled once more into comparative quiet.

Mrs. Dunbar by some magic known only to Lawyer Ham-
ilton, had been coerced into going to her room and lying
down, and was soon sound asleep.

Milton Page, after brief meditation on the front door-
step, had haughtily taken himself off concluding that the
moment was still unripe for further controversy with his
fiancée.

Rose and Jean had retired hurriedly to the kitchen to pre-
pare dinner for an irate nurse who had hinted dire things
if she were not regularly and properly fed. Doris had gone
up to the sickroom to relieve the nurse for a few minutes
while she took a nap.

Sitting there in the darkened, quiet room with the silent,
white face on the pillow, Doris faced her life again, and
seemed once more to stand looking into a bank of dark
portentous clouds. Nothing but storms and darkness ahead!
Could: there be any possible light?

She studied the face of her brother in the shadows, and
wondered what was to come through him? Would he rally
to face his ruined life? And how would they all bear it?
How could they help him to bear it? For after the ex-
periences of the day before, who could doubt that the lot
he had brought upon himself would soon become unbearable?
She could not think her way out of the darkness. There
seemed no way out. She must just wait till light came.

186JOB’S NIECE 187

The experiences of the last hour passed rapidly before
her, and Milton’s part in it suddenly forced itself upon her.
She found a singular lack of desire to excuse him for his
apathy, his unkind criticism of herself. She seemed to be
looking at him with new eyes, and the cold critical tone of
his voice began to reécho in her mind. How could she ever
have loved him? Did he ever use that tone to her before?
No, probably not, for she had never crossed his wishes be-
fore, that she remembered. Now that she recalled, he had
often spoken in that tone to strangers, men who got in his
way when he was driving, people out in the world where
they had gone together who did not instantly jump to wait
upon his needs. She had not condemned him then because
he had represented the others as wrongdoers. But, per-
haps she had taken his word and had not thought much
about it. She had never realized that Milton Page was
cruel, or that he was self-centred. He had always protected
her well. Now she wondered if perhaps it were only be-
cause she belonged to him that he had done it; not to save
her? She did not enjoy such thoughts. She tried to shake
them off. She did not wish to be unjust, and of course she
knew that her action in running bareheaded down the street
had been against all his formal code of etiquette. It must
have tried him. He had always disliked hurry or excitement
and called it unnecessary. Yet try as she would she could
not make his criticism of her at such a time seem pardonable,
and she found her anger rising.

That matter of the ring now. He seemed to be more
‘nterested in the safety of the ring than in how she felt
about it. It began to look as if it were going to be a dif-
ficult matter to give back his ring. And where was the
ring? She must find it before he came again. Perhaps
he would not come again to-night and she would have op-

portunity to hunt for it.188 JOB’S NIECE

Then suddenly she remembered John. Where was John?
The new teacher had sent her a note by Jean in the after-
noon, something about a bee in his desk. She had not had
time to read it carefully, just glanced it over before she
came into Ned’s room. John must have been behaving
badly. And now perhaps he had run away. How could he
bring more trouble upon them! John, with his round kindly
face and his broad grin, his ready eagerness to be of use, his
continual appetite for mischief! If he did not appear pres-
ently what would they have to do to find him? Send out a
message by radio perhaps and come down to the level of all
the poor families whose wayward children had wandered
away from home in search of amusement. Poor John! He
had been having a dull time during their father’s illness,—
and Florence hated him! He could not help knowing it.
Her heart went out fiercely to the loving mischievous boy.
To think that Milton too had suggested sending him away to
school! At this age that would mean weaning him from
them all. He would never be theirs again! Her whole be-
ing cried out against such a course. She almost hated the
thought of Milton since he had suggested it. And Jean
too, darling little Jean! How terrible that Milton could
think of her dear ones as burdens! She had always visioned
Milton as being a kind and loving brother to all her brothers
and sisters. And now this! It was a rude awakening.

These thoughts bombarded her soul while she sat in the
darkened room and listened to her brother’s labored breath-
ing, administered the medicine from time to time, and found
herself praying an inarticulate prayer and pleading a sunset
sky as if it had been a written word.

The nurse came back rested and fed, and gave an ex-
perienced glance at the patient, assuring Doris that all was
as well as could be expected and sent her down to get some
dinner.JOB’S NIECE 189

And there was John carrying dishes out to the kitchen!
He looked solid and comforting. He cast her a grin of
greeting and disappeared through the swing door. So that
was that! She ought of course to give him a good scold-
ing and make him understand how embarrassing it was to
her and to the rest of his family, to have a note sent home
complaining of him. But perhaps it would be just as well
to wait until she had eaten her dinner. She felt terribly
exhausted, and it would not be an easy task. John was
headstrong and would not take kindly to a sister’s manage-
ment.

She sank down into her chair, and Rose and John brought
hot food and fussed around her lovingly. It was pleasant
to feel they cared. Somehow the shadow seemed almost
lifted for a moment. Then, just as Rose whisked into the
kitchen to get her another cup of coffee, the telephone rang.

Doris of habit sprang to answer it, and Milton’s flat prac-
tical voice struck a discordant note on her moment of
relaxation.

“T trust that the excitement is over and that your brother
has been found to be no worse.”

Doris found herself wondering how she had ever thought
she loved that cold hard voice.

“The immediate danger is past, the doctor says. He had
a sinking spell. The oxygen tided him over the worst till
the doctor came.”

Doris’ voice was cool, quite impersonal, as if she were
speaking to a mere acquaintance.

“T thought so,” responded the incisive tones. “I have
often told you that nothing is ever gained by getting wrought
up. Calm action is worth twenty frenzies. In the first
place, nine times out of every ten there is no real cause
for alarm. That nurse made a mountain out of a molehill,
I suppose, and let her love of the dramatic sway her. She190 JOB’S NIECE

seems to me to be one who magnifies her office. I would
get rid of her as soon as possible. If you like I will get
you another one at once. A woman like that is not fit to
nurse in a family of temperamental people.”

“Thank you, no,” said Doris coldly. “This is the nurse
the doctor wants. He thinks her unusually skilled especially
in pneumonia.”

“She evidently has him buffaloed also,” sneered Milton.
“If it were my case I should get another doctor then.”

Doris did not answer. There were no words wherewith
to defend the doctor who had been their friend through the
years. The idea was beyond answer.

“Well. Doris, I hope you will realize that you acted very
foolishly in making a spectacle of yourself in the street. I

s)

 

certainly was ashamed
“You will have to excuse me, Milton—” said Doris sharply.

 

“T am very tired now. I .

“Wait! Wait a minute Doris! I certainly think you
owe me some consideration after all this nonsense. What
about the ring?”

Doris had risen with the telephone in her hand and was
about to hang up the receiver, but now a startled look sprang
‘nto her face. She had forgotten about the ring! How
embarrassing! What should she do?

“Really Milton she began, and hesitated for a word,
“T have been so overwhelmed—” She knew Milton would

 

think it inexcusable in her to have forgotten the lost ring.
But Rose suddenly sprang through the doorway and
pressed something into her sister’s hand. Doris recognized

the hard sharp facets of the diamond with relief.
is

“The ring is all right of course!” she finished in a dif-
ferent voice in which was no apology.

“But is it all right?’ he urged persistently. “Have you
really found it or are you trying to put me off? Iam ex-JOB’S NIECE 191

tremely anxious about this, Doris. When you come to
yourself you will realize that a thing so valuable is not to be
lightly put aside and forgotten.”

“The ring is here in my hand, Milton. I will send it to
you at once if you wish.”

“In your hand? Why not on your hand?” caught up the
persistent voice.

“Because that is not its place any longer,” said Doris
patiently. “Shall I send it to you by special messenger, or
would you prefer to call and get it?”

There was just the least tinge of sarcasm to Doris’ voice,
for she was exasperated beyond her usual even sweetness,
but Milton did not seem to perceive it.

“No, certainly not. Do not trust it out of your posses-
sion again. I will call this evening. Good-by.”

The receiver clicked into place and Doris sat back with
the ring in her hand. She opened her palm and looked at
it as it lay there catching the light and throwing prisms out
into the room, a lovely heavenly drop of dew. Her ring!
And she was giving it up!

But it had somehow lost its tender significance. It ap-
peared to cast a baleful light as it lay there in her hand. It
did not) seem her own any longer and as she watched the
changing color she seemed to hear the echo of Milton’s
voice as he uttered those terrible unfeeling words about her
family! Her dear family. Sudden overwhelming tears
seemed imminent. She was not a girl given to weeping
and this feeling of a tempest coming down upon her almost
frightened her. She looked up blinking back the tears and
shutting her lips firmly against her thoughts, and there was
Rose standing in the kitchen doorway.

“He’s not coming back again to-night is he, Doris? The
old shrimp! Doesn’t he know you are not fit to see him?
Give me the ring. I'll give it back to him in words that will192 JOB’S NIECE

make him understand! ‘You go up to bed, and I’ll see him
for you.”

Her words were just what was needed to strike the bal-
ance in Doris’ self-control. She looked up smiling:

“You're a peach!” she said brightly. “But this is my
job and I'll see it through. Perhaps I needed all this to get
my eyes open to things. -

“Are your eyes open?” said Rose studying her face doubt-
fully. “I’m afraid Milton will be able to bring you around
to fie way of thinking again when he gets you under the in-
fuence of his cold, gray eye. Dorrie, he isn’t the man for
you. He isn’t big enough. You’re far too good for him.
He'll hound the life out of you if he once gets you under
his thumb. I read a story not long ago about a girl that
married a foreign count or something and he didn't want her
to have anything to do with her family in America. When
he got her over in his castle he intercepted her letters and
her people thought she didn’t care anything about them any
more: and she thought they had forgotten her; and so they
never saw each other for years, and she broke her heart.
When I read it, it seemed as if Milton was just like that
count. I used to lie awake and cry about it. It seemed tS
me when you married Milton we w ould lose you utterly.’

“You foolish child,” cried Doris laughing, “as if I would
let any man keep me from my family! I would run away
and come to see them. How could I possibly love a man
of that sort?”

“That’s it, you couldn’t; and you wouldn’t know it till
it was too late and you were married to him.”

“Well, Rose, you needn’t worry about it any longer for
I’m not going to marry him. I don’t believe I shall ever
marry anyone. I’m the head of this family now and that’s
enough for one lifetime, at least until they are all grownJOB’S NIECE 193

up and married—and—well that doesn’t seem to end it —
Ned, either.”

“Ned isn’t grown up, that’s what’s the matter!” said Rose
wisely. “I’m going to learn a lesson from this myself, and
never think of getting married till I’m quite old and ugly
and my judgment is mature.”

“You child! You'll never be old and ugly no matter how
many years you live.”

“I hope you don’t think I’ll never have any judgment.”

“You have a lot already,” said Doris thoughtfully. “TI
know you would never let yourself do anything that would
disgrace the family.”

Rose went to the window and stood gazing out into the
darkness a moment, sticking a pin deep into the window-sill
before she spoke.

“Well, I hope I wouldn’t,” she said at last, turning with
a sigh from the window, “but I'll tell you this, I almost
have thought of doing things, once or twice

“Yes, but you wouldn’t,” Doris’ eyes rested on her con-
fidently. “I’m just sure you wouldn’t, dear.”

“Well, I won’t anyway. Doris, are we going to move?
Where are we going to live?”

“That’s to be settled soon, dear. I haven’t been able
to think about it yet. I’ve got to find a good job first so I'll
know what we can afford to pay. I haven’t an idea what
things rent for. I never thought about rent. Nor how
much I can earn——”

“Doris, rent costs awfully! I heard Nance Nettleton tell-
ing that they paid ninety a month for their tiny little flat,
and Charlie only makes a hundred and forty. It has only
a bedroom and dining-room and living-room, with bath and
kitchenette. We couldn’t ever stuff into it even if we had

a bed in every room including the kitchenette.”
13194

“Ves, Rose, but that’s in a very good location.

JOB’S NIECE

   

I know

those apartments are nabbed up like hot cakes for young

married people.
plain unfashionable
minds to that.”

quarter.

We will probably have to go into some

We've got to make up our

“Tt’s going to be horrid to live in some low-down place.
I'd like to get away off from here, where we don’t see the

same people.
poe

“The country costs terribly
will be practical for me if I bare a job.”

“Why do

you

only one that is going to work?
It’s going to be tough on her if we move away.
Don’t squelch her.
in the summer-time.”

said Doris.

as she can

pleased

to work all day

“She’s a darling!’

say

for

be.

me,

I wish we could get into the country, don't

, Rose; that is, any place that

Doris,

She’s

as if you were the
Why even Jean has a job.
She’s
planning

as

“Doris, whatever became of that house you inherited from

Aunt Doris awhile

it? Wasn’t it somewhere
“Why, I oe don’t know,’

charge of 1 He

I ae dn’t Bie a
to as

it was out on the Branch line.
I never have gone there
she died when I was about seven years old.”

get to it.

You

know

ago? Did it ever get sold?
near the city?”
said Doris.

if it went in with all the rest.
gone.

« Mr. Hamilton about it, but I suppose it’s
I don’t know just how you
since I was a little girl.

Where was

“Father took
seemed to be fond of the old place, but

I'll have
Yes,

“But Doris, if that was yours you wouldn't have to let it

go, would you?”
“T suppose so,”

sighed Doris.

clean sweep of everything.

that every debt will be wiped out.
breath and begin over again.
get along somehow, if only we don’t have everlasting debts to

“There'll just have to be a

I only hope it will be clean and

Then we can take a deep
I’m not afraid but we canJOB’S NIECE

carry on our backs. I couldn’t bear that. But Rose, where
did you find my ring? Was it back of that bureau? I don't
believe I thought to look there.”

“No, it wasn’t back of the bureau, and I’m not going to tell
you where I found it until after Milton Page has been here.
Jean put the note on your bureau when he gave it to her
and you did not notice it in your hurry. See? Afterward
I'll tell you the story. And it’s some tale, believe me! But
it’s not for the honorable Milton’s ears, and if you know it
beforehand you'll have it sitting in your eye and he'll extract
it from you. Now go upstairs and put on your slim black
satin, and look impressive. Let him see that he doesn’t own
you body and soul. Mercy, Doris, if you give in to him
and keep that ring I’ll kidnap you and run away to’ the
South Sea Islands or somewhere that isn’t respectable so
Milton won’t dare follow. Doris, I found out that Jean is
breaking her heart over your getting married and going
away. She heard Milton talking yesterday it seems!”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” said Doris with a quick memory of the
biting sentences about her family. “Poor little kiddie.
Where is she? Gone to bed?”

“T guess so. She was about worn out.”

“Well, where is John? I must give him a lecture. He
simply has to go to school to-morrow you know. We can't
have him in disgrace.”

But John too was gone to bed, for a wonder, lying com-
fortably snuggled into his pillow, his long lashes like fringes
heavily dark upon his round, healthy cheek. John was won-
derfully good looking when he was asleep. There was a cer-
tain nobleness about his forehead, and a maturity about his
pleasant lips that gave promise of a thoughtful manhood.
Doris stood looking at him a moment, half-questioning
whether she would not waken him and say to him the things
that ought to be said. It was very strange that John should196 JOB’S NIECE

go to bed before nine o’clock. But something in the curve
of lip, the sweep of lash, the relaxed boyishness of him lying
there appealed to the motherness that is in every woman, and
she turned away without disturbing him and tiptoed out of
the room closing the door softly. And John, lying motion-
less in the dark room let the corners of his nice dependable
mouth curve upward just a tiny bit with mischief, and his
wicked little dimple came out and laughed at the echo of
Doris’ retreating footsteps. John had scored another day
without being questioned, and having to own up that he had
a job

Doris had barely slipped into the slim satin when Rose
came to say that Milton was there. Doris, with the ring
in her hand went down to face her former lover.

Milton Page had hesitated some minutes before a florist’s
shop thinking to purchase another half-dozen roses. In
view of the fact that the ring was found and he would not
have to buy another he could afford to be generous. But
when he found that the roses in this shop were fifty cents
more a dozen than those he had bought the day before he
thought better of it and went on without an offering. By
the time he presented himself in the Dunbar living-room he
had decided that it would be better to give the roses later
after Doris had been duly apologetic for all her foolish ac-
tions of the day before. Virtue should be rewarded, not fool-
ishness. So he stood there in his neat business suit looking
the personification of virtuous exactne

There was something about Doris’ air as she entered the
room that was impressive. Something new and definite.
It gave him a pleasant thrill of admiration after his annoy-
ance of the day before. After all she was a girl among
a thousand, and doubtless her slip of the day before had been
due to overexertion, with a combination of emotional strain

long drawn out. When she was his he did not intend toJOB’S NIECE 197

allow any such excesses in emotion or overwork. Keeping
one’s body in perfect trim for the maximum efficiency was
as much a duty as to keep one’s machine in condition, per-
fectly cleaned and oiled. It was to him a law of life, and
never to be overstepped for sentimental reasons.

A look of satisfaction overspread his face as he watched
her graceful movements about the room, throwing open a
window, for the evening was warm, pulling the cord of the
shaded lamp over the chair in which he always sat, and
switching off the glaring overhead light. There was some-
thing exceedingly satisfying in the womanliness of her; and
she seemed to have at last returned to herself after the
trying weeks of her father’s illness, when she had been ab-
sent-minded and always in a hurry. A certain tenseness
around his mouth relaxed, and he smiled one of his old-time
welcomes. He advanced to give her the usual formal kiss
wherewith their meetings had heretofore been opened and
closed.

But Doris evaded him, as though she had not noticed—
as though she had forgotten. She went over to the couch
and got a silk pillow, plumping it up as she came, and drop-
ping into a chair opposite the one where he usually sat, she
placed the pillow behind her back.

“Sit down, Milton,” she said, taking the conversation into
her own hands and motioning him toward the other chair.
“There is something I want to tell you.”

He paused annoyed, and looked at her, upset to have her
begin conversation without the usual greeting. It seemed to
put him at a disadvantage, to usurp as it were his rights.
But somehow her manner took the initiative, and he found
himself sitting reluctantly down in his usual place. He
could not help thinking how well she looked in spite of the
dark circles under her eyes.

“T have been thinking about our relationship and looking198 JOB’S NIECE

  
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
    
  
  
   
 
 
 
    

facts in the face,” Doris began, looking at him calmly, almost
as if he were a stranger, “I have come to the conclusion
i that I have not been fair to you!”
i Milton straightened his shoulders with satisfaction. Ah!
Now she was coming to herself! This was an apology! He
had felt sure she would make one sooner or later, or else
he must have been much mistaken in her.

“T have not intended to be unfair,” she went on.

That was bad. One ought never to attempt to make ex-
cuses. It would be better for her to leave that to him. He
must tell her about that after she had finished. An apology
was never a full acknowledgment of wrong done if one put
forth one’s self surrounded by excuses.

But what was this she was saying?

“I think you first opened my eyes to the situation when
you began to find fault with my father, and then finished by
showing that you wished me as your wife to be utterly sepa-
rate from my family. You showed me just how you looked
upon each one of them, and I thought you were hard and
cruel. I was very angry with you at first. But afterward
I saw that you had no intention of being cruel. You were
just stating facts as you understood them ¥

What was this? She was blaming him, not apologizing ?
She was actually trying to excuse him! This was prepos-
terous! His expression grew hard like melted wax exposed
to sudden cold. It fairly congealed. His lips set in a sharp
thin line. She was attempting to excuse him!

“You had no conception of my feelings or you would not
have done it. It seemed to you that you were just saying
what you call ‘common-sense’ facts, and speaking frankly.
You had not the least idea that I would far rather you had
taken a whip and stung me across my face than to have lis-
tened to you say what you did about my family. The care
that I took of my father during his last illness, which I con-

aeJOB’S NIECE 199

sidered a precious privilege, was to you mere sentiment.
You had no conception of the tender and wonderful relation-
ship between me and my father, and you did not realize that
your rough speech was like rubbing salt in a wound. At
first I was appalled. I could not think. But presently I
began to understand that it was because you did not really
love me that you could talk this way.”

She paused and he faced her sternly, offendedly, but he
did not interrupt. He would allow her to see that even at
a time like this he adhered closely to his principles never to
interrupt. He thought he saw now that she was merely
wishing him to make love to her over again, to restate a fact
that had long become a matter of course. He had read that
women did things like that. When they quarrelled they
wished to be petted and sentimentalized over. But he would
show her once for all that he was not that sort of a man.
He had given her his word that he loved her, and that ought
to be enough for any sensible woman. He could not go
around telling her all his life. It wasa thing to be taken for
granted, and she had no more right to question it than she
had to be continually taking off her engagement ring and
flinging it at him.

It was just at this juncture that he noticed that she was not
wearing her ring and the frown deepened on his stern face.

But Doris’ voice was quite calm as she took up the thread
of her discourse once more:

“Tt was then that I found out that J did not love you,
Milton. I have always thought I did, but I see now that
I only loved what I thought you were. I am sorry that you
have wasted so much time on me, and that I did not sooner
understand my own heart, but I am glad that I have found
out in time. It would be a dreadful thing for us both to
have found it out afterwards.”

He continued to regard her with hard cold eyes for an in-200 JOB’S NIECE

stant silently. At last he said in his flat practical voice,
which seemed flatter and more practical than ever before:

“Now, if you have completely finished with this child’s
play, I think I will go upstairs and talk with your brother
Ned for a little while. There are some things which need to
be said to him which I think would come in very well just
now while he is lying still and has time to think them over.”

He stepped toward the door but Doris with her eyes blaz-
ing in a white haughty face stepped before him and stood
in front of the door, her hand upon the knob.

“You do not seem to understand!” she said in a tone that
she had never used to him before, a tone as cold and decided
as ever his had been. “This is not child’s play! I never
was more in earnest in my life! You may break off the
conversation and be rude to me if you like, but you must
not go out of this room without taking charge of this ring.
If you do I shall send it to you by mail. And you cannot
go and talk to my brother! He is too ill to see anyone,
and would not know what you were saying to him if you
did. He is quite delirious.”

Doris held the ring out and tried to put it in his hand,
but he refused it:

Doris, you are beside yourself!” he said as if he were
soothing an angry child. “Put that ring on and stop this
nonsense. You will think better of all this when you have
had a good night’s rest.”

Doris laid the ring on the table.

“I will never put that ring on again!” she said excitedly.
“You have broken the last tie between us. You may take
the ring or leave it aS you please, but I will not be re-
sponsible for it any lénger.”

“Well, Doris, I don’t believe you are responsible,” he said
severely. “That is a good diagnosis of the case. I willJOB’S NIECE 201

take the ring and keep it until you come to your senses.
You really are not fit to have charge of it at present, and as
for sending it by mail that would be simply crazy. A ‘valu-
able ring like that!”

His fingers closed about the ring, and Doris dropped
her arms by her side with a feeling of relief, and then
stealthily clasped her hands behind her. She would not be
inveigled into touching that ring again. She had begun
suddenly to feel as if it were a badge of servitude.

“You understand, Doris, that I am merely taking charge
of this until to-morrow. Iam paying no attention to the wild
remarks you have been making to me. A promise is a
promise, you know, as binding as the marriage vow to a right-
minded person, and I am sure you have always been that
heretofore. One can not change his principles overnight
like this. A plighted troth is a sacred thing. As sacred
as a marriage vow.”

“Yes,” said Doris steadily. “But two wrongs do not make
a right. If I give a promise that I cannot keep, would it
make it better to take vows upon my lips that were not
true °”

He regarded her with cold disapproval:

“You ‘are not in condition to talk to-night. You are il-
logical,” he said. “I have told you before that it is impos-
sible to talk to a person who is illogical. I will leave you to
get rested and come to an understanding with yourself.
You may send for me when you are ready to talk sensibly.
I shall not come until you send for me this time. I have
no time to waste in nonsense. But please remember that
the time is short, and that we should be making our prepara-
tions. All this fol de rol is merely wasting much needed
time and energy, for which you will only have to suffer in the
end. My preparations are well under way. It will be you202 JOB’S NIECE

 

who will have to go unprepared when the time comes.”
“Milton, I told you that I am not going. I mean what I

; < oD

say.
‘ “Nonsense!” he said sharply. “You don’t understand
yourself, You would no more let me go without you than
i you would cut your hand off. If you will do a little un-
selfish thinking and look into your own heart you will find

that this is all a pose in order to make me allow you to s slave
for your family, and take them into my lap for life. But that
would be all wrong and I do not intend to do it, no matter
how long you keep up this performance. If you understand
that fully perhaps it will help bring you to your senses.
I am not the kind of man who can be bullied into anything.
I am doing this for your good and in the end you will see
it. You will live to thank me for it.’

Doris’s face was white with anger:

“T think perhaps I shall—” said Doris and stepped aside
to let him pass.

He cast her a puzzled startled look as he went out. There
seemed something sinister in her voice, but her face was
quiet, almost impassive. Now, just what had she meant by
that? Was she coming to her senses—or—? But of
course she would come to her senses. She had always been
such a sensible girl.

He walked slowly out the front door.

“Remember that I shall be waiting for you to send for
me,” he said graciously. And then the door closed behind

bee stood in the hall for a moment looking at the closed
door, and then with a long-drawn breath went slowly up-
stairs to her room and shut and locked the door.

“So that’s that!” she said aloud to herself as she stared
around and caught a glimpse of Milton Page’s familiar photo-
graph facing her on the bureau.JOB’S NIECE 203

She stepped to the bureau, tore it across twice, and threw
the pieces in the waste basket, then switching out the light
she lay down upon her bed and stared up into the darkness.
So that was that!CHAPTER XVII

Ancus MAcpoNALD had put in three solid hours that evening
trying to persuade his gentle little mother to let him hire a
companion to attend her during his absence. He put it on
the ground of his own solicitude. He made her understand
hat he could not do his own work well unless he was sure

c

oe

that all was well with her.

She told him she would write him every day if he wished,
and that the housekeeper would wire if she were in the least
inwell.

He turned a new angle and told her that she must get out
more and that she could not go alone. He suggested that
she might do this as a benevolence.

She said she did not want to go out, that the garden was
big enough for all the exercise she wished to take, and that
she preferred to be alone. If it were benevolence she would
be glad to write a check to cover anybody’s need in that
direction.

Pleasantly but firmly she foiled every attempt that he made
to introduce and lead up to the girl he meant to bring to see
her the next afternoon. He made no progress whatever.
Not even could he move her when he declared that if she did
not submit to having someone come there and stay he would
not go abroad. She looked at him with all her Scotch con-
science in her eye and reminded him that he was going on a
mission, something that was to be for the good of humanity
if his research succeeded, and that he had no right to with-
draw now that he had given his word. She drew herself
up with dignity and somehow managed to summon the old
204JOB’S NIECE 205

command to her voice that had made her dominate him al-
ways when he was a child. Nothing short of absolute force
would win his point he saw. She made him understand that
it was distasteful in the extreme to her to have a hired
companion, that it would look as if she were an invalid or
an idiot, or growing childish, and she did not want her
relatives to get any such notions. She resented the idea.
She was still able to order her own affairs and young enough
to have the right to do so.

Augus retired to his bed vanquished at last, but not to
sleep. Over and over again he turned the question trying
to find some way out of the dilemma, and when he reached
his office the next morning he was not any nearer to a solu-
tion. Perhaps after all he would have to give the whole
trip up. For he was just as firm as his stubborn little mother
and he did not intend to go off and leave her without any
congenial spirit to help her bear the dreariness of the days.

He had little time, however, to consider the matter during
the morning, or at the lunch hour, for his partners had in
tow a distinguished scientist with whom they wished him
to lunch, a man who had done much research along the very
lines which Macdonald was about to pursue, and there were
certain matters which they wished to discuss together. It
was therefore a quarter to three before Angus Macdonald
was free to remember the appointment with the young
woman, and the problem of how to manage the meeting
between her and his mother. Then when he had spent ten
intensive minutes trying to make a plan and failed hopelessly,
a representative of one of the firm’s New York associates
arrived and demanded immediate audience that he might
catch a train in a few minutes. The man was just taking
his leave when the secretary brought in Doris’ name, and
he realized that he had come to the moment unprepared after
all and must do something at once. He told the secretary he206 JOB’S NIECE

would be ready for Miss Dunbar in two or three minutes,
and as soon as she had closed the door of the outer office
he tang up his mother:

“Mother, I want to bring out a young woman—a—a
girl!” he finished lamely. “A girl I have met—an acquaint-

 

a

 

ance

He knew that he was doing it awkwardly, and that his
mother would wonder. It was not his custom to bring home
girls. He was making a bad job of it, too, hesitating along
this way for words. His mother would be sure to suspect
something. He searched wildly around in his mind for an
excuse—but could find none.

“T—want her to meet you—Mother,” he ended desper-
ately. “Can you give us a cup of tea?”

But he knew by his mother’s tone as she assented that she
had taken alarm. And then his mind went back to the
morning before, and her question about possible fellow voy-
agers. Ah! She thought he was bringing Tamar! She
had heard about Tamar he felt sure. Cousin Marilla would
be sure to have gossiped when she was out last week. Cousin
Marilla had uncanny powers of finding out about every-
thing that one wanted to keep to one’s self.

“Ts she—a very special—friend, Angus?” the mother’s
voice hesitated almost tremulously. Macdonald felt con-
lemned and ashamed. Somehow it came to him as a good
thing that he was getting away from Tamar. His mother
would never have been reconciled to Tamar as a daughter-

 

in-law.

“Oh, no! Not specially so!” he tried to make his voice
sound casual, “I just—wanted you to—meet her!”

It would never come easy for Angus Macdonald to lie.
He had been brought up to be square and straightforward.
There had never been deception between himself and his
mother,JOB’S NIECE 207

“Will I—need to make much preparation?’ she asked
again half-timidly, he thought.

“No, oh no!” he answered heartily. “Just a cup of tea.
Don’t make a fuss or have the servants around. I want her
to meet you informally a few minutes. I’ve—been telling
her about you, you know. She’s just a nice girl.”

But he knew that her voice held trepidation. He hung up
half wishing he had given it all up and sent the applicant
for the position on her way.

Doris had been busy with Mr. Hamilton all the morning.

They had sat in her father’s library at his desk and gone
over all the papers together.

Doris had seemed to be the natural one to undertake the
matter. Mrs. Dunbar when asked to come down held up
her hands deprecatingly and begged to be excused:

“Tell Mr. Hamilton I simply cannot go over those old
bills. He promised to undertake them all and now let him
do it. Ill come down after a while and serve luncheon if
you want me to. Invite him to stay. But I really can't
come now. i’m not dressed yet, and I’ve got to go through
my bureau drawers and see if I can possibly have leit my
pocketbook there. You know [ lost my pocketbook last
night, and it had some very important papers in it, to say
nothing of twenty-five dollars. I can’t remember coming up
here before I telephoned, but perhaps I did, and I must look
for it right away, because I’m nearly crazy about it.”

So Doris had gone down with a sigh of relief that her
stepmother was not to be on hand to complicate matters.
She felt a passing wonder where Mrs. Dunbar could have
got twenty-five dollars, but it was only passing, and she was
presently immersed in bills and lists of stock and bonds.

Mrs. Dunbar did come down and pour the coffee at lunch
as she had promised, but she looked as if she had been weep-
ing and a worried absent-minded expression hovered about208 JOB’S NIECE

 

her. Her anxiety had not, however, been so great as to make
her forget to make a careful toilet, and she was most gracious
to the lawyer. Rose made little wicked faces to Doris behind
the pantry door as she went out to get various jams and
pickles and olives that her stepmother had demanded. But
Doris was too worried herself to pay much attention. Rose
had not as yet had time to give Doris an account of the find-
ing of the ring.

It was just as Hamilton was about to leave, and Doris
was on her way upstairs to sit with Ned for a few minutes
while the nurse came down to lunch, that the lawyer called
to her:

“Oh, by the way, Miss Doris, I forgot to mention it this
morning, but there is a piece of property belonging to you.
It seems to have been the only thing that was untouched,
possibly because it was considered valueless. It is a house
and lot out at Silver Ledge. I haven’t been cut there to
see it, but I understand from some questions I have asked
of real estate men who know, that Silver Ledge is absolutely
dead, so far as real estate is concerned. It might possibly
sell for a few hundred, but it would probably be very
few. Would you like me to try to find a purchaser? Of
course every little helps. Did you know about the prop-
erty?”

“Why yes,” said Doris, coming thoughtfully downstairs.
“Tt is an old house belonging to my aunt, who died when I
was a little girl. She left it to me because I was named after
her. I have never been out there since I was a child. My
father had a fondness for the place. He used to say that
sometime he would like to fix it up for a summer home.
But he never did. I really can’t remember much about it.
Would it be a place where we could live, or do you think we
should sell it in order to cover father’s debts?”

“There is no obligation whatever for you to give that upJOB’S NIECE 209

’ “

if you care to keep it. It is yours,” said the lawyer, “and
even if you sold it the money would be your own, person-
ally, you understand. As for living there I should say it
would be quite out of the question. It is a long way out of
the city and I understand it is quite out of repair. You had
probably better sell it if you can. But, as I say, it would
likely have to go for a ridiculously small sum, and even then
I should suppose that purchasers would be scarce. I will
make enquiry and let you know.”

“Thank you,” said Doris, “perhaps I will run out and look
it over some day soon.”

That was all that was said and Doris hurried up to Ned
and promptly forgot all about it.

She met her stepmother in the hall apparelled for the street
when she came out from Ned’s room an hour later. She
looked distraught and said she was going out to try and
find her pocketbook. She thought she must have left it at
a store yesterday. Doris passed on to her room, the mem-
ory of her afternoon’s engagement suddenly setting down
upon her like a pall, and she began to dread it. She
wondered why she had agreed to go, and the whole thing
now seemed preposterous. She had half a mind to call up
this Mr. Macdonald and tell him she had made other plans
and would not be able to fulfill her engagement. She half-
decided to ask Rose’s advice and went down to the kitchen to
find her. But Rose had disappeared. Everybody seemed
to be gone somewhere. She remembered about John and
wondered if he had gone to school, and why hadn't Jean
come home for her lunch? Why hadn’t John come? Oh,
why were things all mixed up this way? And where were
they going to live? If that Silver Ledge property were at all
salable perhaps there would be a few hundreds, enough for
them to dare rent a house for a few months at least and

start, until she could find something to do. If only Ned
14210 JOB’S NIECE

were not married he and she might manage between them to
support the family in decency, but how was she going to be
able to do it by herself? It was out of the question for
Rose to go to work. She was too young and impulsive, too
pretty and rebellious against life for her to be safe out in the

world.

Thinking her troubled thoughts she prepared for the
afternoon.

She was going to a tea, but it would not do to wear gala
dress. She was going in the capacity of service to be looked
over with a view to purchase. She must dress carefully but
not conspicuously.

Having decided this she took her mind from the matter
and began to speculate about Silver Ledge. How many
hundreds were a few? How much could she actually hope
to count on, at the lowest? Would father have minded their
selling ?

But then of course they could not stop on that. Father
would have minded the whole thing for them. Poor father!
She hoped he could not see how much trouble had come to
them all. They must be brave and carry on, so that if he
could know,*he would presently see that all was well with
them. |

As she entered Angus Macdonald’s office promptly on the
minute she noticed a plain sad-eyed girl standing by the
desk. heard the secretary say: ‘Yes, the position is filled
for the present.’ She saw the other girl turn sadly away.
For an instant a feeling of disappointment passed over her.
Likely she would be told the same thing. She wondered if it
sensible girl or the one with goggles, and stood

]

were tne

hesitating at the door, but the secretary recognized her with
a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Macdonald wishes you to sit in the inner office for a
few minutes. He is engaged in conference just now butJOB’S NIECE 211

will not be many minutes, and will be ready to accompany
you soon.”

Doris, in the inner office alone, sat palpitating again, and
looking around upon the luxurious room. Everything in it
was restful and harmonious. Again there came that reas-
surance.

On the desk stood a photograph in a silver frame, its back
turned toward her. She felt a sudden desire to see what
kind of picture was in that frame. It might be a key to the
family. Somehow faces always told a great deal. It would
be some girl of course. Probably nothing that would affect
her, as she was to have to do with an old lady, but at least
it would show to a certain extent what kind of man her
future employer was. Silently she arose and took a step
forward where she could see the picture, and found to her
surprise that it was of an elderly woman, with white hair
and delicate patrician face, lovely as the cameo to which her
son had likened her. This then was the mother to whose
comfort she was to minister during the son’s absence! She
stood admiring, charmed. It was true then what her son
had said about her. She felt a strong desire to please this
woman, and a passing admiration for the son, who enthroned
his mother’s picture alone upon his desk. He must be a man
in a thousand! Not but that most men must care for their
mothers, but they usually kept their sentiments well hidden;
and then too, there were usually so many girls’ pictures.

Then flashed the thought that perhaps this desk was thus
set for her benefit, and she turned to go back to her seat
again. But there he was! Standing just behind her! And
she had not heard him enter.

He smiled just as if he had left her but a few moments
before.

“That is my mother!” he said as if her eyes had asked a
question.212 JOB’S NIECE

“She is lovely!” said Doris spontaneously.

“Yes, she is!” said the son with a tender light in his
eyes. Then, “Shall we go down to the car now, Miss Dun-
bars”

The car was as luxurious as the office had been, nothing
ostentatious, however. Angus Macdonald drove it himself,
and while they were going through traffic he left her to sit
back restfully without talking.

She watched him thread his way skillfully through the
afternoon turmoil of the crowded streets, and could not
but admire the quiet control he had both over himself and
over his machine. There was something about his strong
face that reminded her of the more delicate features of his
mother, yet with a ruggedness that was not in her face.
She forgot for the moment that she was going out with a
possible employer to be looked over. He seemed like a pleas-
ant friend who was taking her out for the afternoon.

When they were at last beyond the throngs of travellers,
and darted out into a broad smooth highway with arching
trees and far stretches of open space, he turned to her
pleasantly.

“Now!” said he, “I think we can talk, and settle a few
matters before we get home. I’m in rather of a hole I’m
afraid.”

Doris experienced another sudden sinking of the heart.
He was going to tell her that he had hired someone else!
But why had he not done it in the office and saved himself
and her the trip? She wondered why she felt so disap-
pointed.

“You see I’ve been sounding out my mother, and I have
not been able to get her to consent to have anyone in the
capacity of companion.”

Ah! Then that was it. There was not going to be any
position! And he had brought her on a ride to let herJOB’S NIECE 213

down easily! Well, she would show him that it did not
matter in the least. That she was not at all sure she would
have taken it if there had been a position.

“T have had to resort to a sort of subterfuge,’
Macdonald. ‘How good an actor are you? Can you take
the part of a good friend of mine who is coming out to
meet my mother just—socially—you know?”

Doris turned a puzzled face toward the young man:

“T’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said a trifle coolly.

“No, perhaps I have not been very clear. You see I’ve
failed to get my mother to see things just as I want her to
see them. She insists that she will be perfectly all right
during my absence without anyone but the servants, but I
know that she will simply stay by herself day after day and it
is not good for her. I want her to get interested in some-
body or something, and then the time will go faster. Now,
are you willing to play up to the occasion and take the part
of a friend of mine who is interested to run in and cheer
her up while I’m gone? I simply couldn’t work it any other
way. I called her up just now and told her I was bringing
a girl—a friend of mine—out to see her for a cup of tea.
Have I presumed too much?”

Doris hesitated. This was different. She began to feel
that she was not just sure what she was getting into.

“Tt isn’t necessary for you to enlarge upon our acquaint-
ance. It might easily have been that we would have met
in the city. Your father was known to me. Let that stand.
I shall be away and there will be no complications. It
simply places you on a social footing rather than a business
basis. Will that matter to you?”

“Why—no, I’m not sure that it will matter,” said Doris
hesitating. “I would not like to be working under false
pretences.”

“No,” said Macdonald thoughtfully, “I fully understand.

)

went on

>214 JOB’S NIECE

But I do not think that will be necessary. For the present,
at least, you are arriving in the capacity of an acquaintance
of mine coming out for a ride and a cup of tea. If you find
it consistent with circumstances to be a trifle lonesome and
say you would like to run over again soon to see mother,
that might open a way. If you choose to accept a position
later, either with or without my mother’s knowledge and
consent, as matters shall develop, that will be for you to de-
cide after you have seen my mother, and I have seen how she
meets you. Is that fair?”

“Tt seems so,” said Doris.

“Very well, then, we'll call that settled for the present.
Now, will you mind telling me a little about yourself please?
The time is short and you and I need to understand one an-
other if we intend to make this thing a success. I assume
that you have called up the references I gave you yester-
day and therefore have my credentials, as I have done with
yours and found everything satisfactory. Suppose you tell
me where you are going to live and how feasible it would
be for you to see my mother every day if things work out that
way.

The talk was crisp and businesslike. They discussed
various possibilities in the coming interview and provided
for different contingencies that might arise. Macdonald told
her a little about his father and mother just to give her a
background for the coming interview.

Once as they passed through a little quiet country village
with nothing but a trolley line, a garage, a church and a
little bunch of quaint old houses, the sign on the garage
caught Doris’ eye and she exclaimed involuntarily:

“Oh, can this be Silver Ledge, I wonder?”

“Yes,” he said, slowing down. “Do you know it?”

“T came here once when I was a child to visit my aunt.

The old house is here. I wonder which it is?”JOB’S NIECE 215

Macdonald immediately stopped the car and made enquiries
of a villager who was sauntering along the roadside. They
found that they were almost in front of Doris’ inheritance.

“That’s a fine specimen of colonial architecture,” said
Macdonald interestedly. ‘Look at that fan-shaped window
over the door. And those pillars! It has a sweet old mel-
low look like a person that has lived well and done his duty.”

“T Joved it when I was a child,” said Doris. “I used to
play dolls on those seats by the front door. Out at the side
there is a big flat stone under the lilac bush where I used
to have a dolls’ house with bits of broken china for dishes
and acorns for cups. There was a bed of velvety moss
around the stone that I called my parlor carpet. This house
inside is very pleasant. There is a long low room with gold-
framed mirrors and a fireplace. I remember a leaf table
and a spinnet that was my delight.”

“Charming!” said Macdonald. “Wouldn't it be interest-
ing to live in an old house like that surrounded by such fine
old furniture! It would bring back the shades of simple
days when men were less hurried, and life was less tragic.
Silver Ledge is just the right setting too, for that house.”

“How far is Silver Ledge from the city?” asked Doris
with speculative glances on either side of the street.

Macdonald looked at the speedometer:

“Tust eleven miles and a quarter,” he answered. “Strange
a spot so near the city has not caught the building fever yet.
I suppose it is on account of that old trolley line. I under-
stand it is slow and dilapidated, and the owners won't spend
anything on it. Still that will not always be the case. The
president is a stubborn old-fashioned man, but he is very
old, and sick. When he is gone, new life will come in and
this place will be built up in short order. The view here is
wonderful! If one or two men with money would locate
here there would be a speedy change. For myself, I like it216 JOB’S NIECE

better as it is. It is restful to drive past all this quietness
and peace.”

Doris tried to restrain her eagerness at what he was saying,
but her thoughts were busy turning over the idea.

“There is a church—” said Doris interestedly. “But I
don’t see any school. I wonder if they have no children?
They must be all old men like the one we met.”

“No,” said Macdonald with a quick smile, “the school-
house is farther on, about a quarter of a mile I think. One
of those Rural Community schools that is centrally located
for a number of small settlements within a certain radius.
It seems to solve the problem for better schools in the rural
districts. Yes, there is the school, yonder. I often drive
this way. Our home is only three or four miles farther
on.”

A friendly group of pines in the distance sheltered the ap-
proach to a big square modern stone structure that rose amid
the pastures like the spirit of to-day greeting the past. Doris
studied it critically as they passed, wondering how many
grades they carried and if it were at all possible they had a
High School also.

The group of pines proved to be but a forerunner of other
pines scattered along the way, increasing now and then into
small groves, and at last they swept into the real woods with
pine needles on the ground and a resinous odor filling the air,
and began to wind up a gradual incline.

“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Doris involuntarily. “How
wonderful! It rests you just to see it and smell it!”

“Doesn’t it!” said Macdonald heartily, slowing down and
hushing his engine as though he were entering a sanctuary.

Presently they swept around a curve and up into the sun-
shine again. The fine old Macdonald castle towered just
above them on the hillside; with a great burst of landscape
off to the left, a silver river winding in the valley below.JOB’S NIECE 217

“Here we are!” said Macdonald. “That’s the house up
there. Now, here we turn and skirt around to the other side
of it through this grove. Watch for the view as we come
out. You can see the city off to the left on clear days.”

Doris felt as if all the glories of the world were suddenly
spread before her, but she had scarcely time to look and
exclaim before they drew up before the wide stone steps
and a butler appeared to open the car door for her.

Sudden awe descended upon Doris. She had not dreamed
of anything like this! How could she possibly presume to
amuse a woman who was lonesome amid all this luxury?CHAPTER XVIII

Mrs. MAcDONALD was sitting by the open fire in the big
living-room, with the great windows into the world of hills
and valley for a background; a little woman clad in soft
rich silk and touches of rare lace. Her face was like the
cameo to which her son had likened her, crowned with lovely
silver hair in soft bands about her head.

glittering with glass and silver,

and a fine old silver teapot. She rose to meet them as they

By her side was a tea-table

entered, an almost feverish eagerness in the look her soft
dark eyes cast upon the girl. She gave Doris her hand, and
it was like warm rose leaves, soft and vibrant. Doris loved
her at once.

It was good for Doris that she was accustomed to meeting
people, else the surroundings and peculiar situation might
have embarrassed her. As it was she forgot for the moment
that she was here to be inspected, and was her easy pleasant
self :

“It was so good of you to let me come, Mrs. Macdonald,”
she said. “I—have heard about you, you know.”

The mother’s hands lingered on the girl’s in a soft clinging
hold, while her eyes searched Doris’ face; and Angus Mac-
donald, watching his mother, thought he saw a sudden relax-
ing of the tension about her lips and eyes. Doris was dis-
arming her fears.

He watched the girl’s lovely expressive face, also, and was
himself relieved to see that there was evident admiration
between the two whom he had brought together. It oc-

curred to him that his mother was certainly taking this girl
218JOB’S NIECE 219

for a more intimate friend than he had intimated in his
brief telephone call, and that was good too, perhaps, for then
she would be willing to be with her more, in order that she
might find out what kind of person her son’s friend was.
This seemed an innocent deception, inasmuch as it not only
furthered his own plan to help his mother, but would allay
somewhat her anxieties concerning Tamar, if indeed she had
heard of Tamar. On the whole he was very well satished
to present such a girl as Doris to his mother as a sample of
his friends. Doris seemed the kind of girl any man would
be proud to know. He could not help admiring the way
she handled the situation. Not with the fire and lure and
mystery of Tamar perhaps. She was restful, inspiring, zest-
ful. Why had he not met her somewhere socially before
this? Her father’s position must have made her a place
in the social world. But he had been busy with Tamar of
late, and Doris must have been at college, perhaps until
recently.

He watched them, seated talking eagerly, as if each wanted
quickly to get to know the other. His mother’s voice grew
in confidence, as if she were feeling her way into the heart
of the girl. He began to have a curious interest in her
opinion of the girl, as if it meant more to him than just
whether she admired someone he wanted to hire. When he
realized it he wanted to shake off the feeling. It seemed
almost as if he were deceiving his mother. He had an un-
pleasant foreboding of questions she might ask after the
guest was gone.

As he watched Doris and listened to her sweet, cultured
voice, he began more and more to feel as if he and his
mother were being looked over, weighed in the balance, rather
than the girl; and withal a deep satisfaction took root in
him, that this girl was the very one he wanted to be with his
mother.rr

   

  

220 JOB’S NIECE

 

No afternoon quiet tea could have been more pleasant and
chatty. The three sat together and ate cinnamon toast, and
delectable little fluffy cakes with marvellous icing, and drank
the perfection of tea. They nibbled at bonbons and salted
almonds, and talked about trees and stars and books and peo-
ple. The shadows of the plumy hemlocks on the rolling
lawn grew long, and twilight settled down, with firelight in
the room, and presently a servant entered, and lit tall shaded
lamps. It was all so cosy and delightful. Doris’ spirit
drank in the beauty of the room and the congenial atmosphere
hungrily, and enjoyed every minute. She almost forgot that
she was there to get a job. Then all at once she realized
with a queer little sinking of heart that it was over and that
she must go back to her problems and anxieties. She gave
one wistful glance around on the quiet room, that seemed
like a large haven of peace, and then glanced at her host,
for it was host and not employer that he had seemed all the
afternoon.

“You are trying to remind me of my promise to get you
back to the city in time for dinner,” he said glancing at his
watch. “There is really no hurry. We can make it in
thirty-five minutes, or even less, and I want you to see the
stars coming out when we go through the woods.”

Mrs. Macdonald caught the intimate tone, and smiled:

“Angus makes all sorts of record time in that car,” she
said. “He is very proud of it. But I presume you have
ridden in it before, Miss Dunbar?”

The color fluttered into Doris’ cheek, and she cast the
flicker of a glance at Macdonald, but responded gracefully:

“Tt is a wonderful car, isn’t it? I just love to ride in it.
I wonder, Mrs. Macdonald, if you will let me run out again
pretty soon after your son has gone? I am rather—well—
lonely, you know sometimes, and I’m crazy to get into
the country.”JOB’S NIECE 221

“Why surely,” said the gracious lady. “I shall be de-
lighted! And I shall be lonely myself when my boy is gone.
Come often. It is refreshing to see a real girl again in this
age of flappers. How will you come? Do you live'far? I
could send the car for you. Angus, you arrange that with
Kendrick.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Doris. It was exciting to be carry-
ing off the thing so well. Here was Mrs. Macdonald just
falling right in line with their plans. It almost made her
feel guilty. She could not help seeing that the lady took her
for one of her son’s most intimate friends. Nothing could be
better for the success of her employer’s schemes, but it was
exceedingly embarrassing.

“T have a little car— I’m not sure whether I shall keep
it— You see we are going to move soon. It is just pos-
sible I may come quite near you to live. If I dol shall be
running over all the time to ask your advice.”

“Why that will be beautiful!” said Mrs. Macdonald with
genuine welcome in her voice. “Come often, and come
soon!”

Doris rode away into the starlight with a young thread of
a moon hanging straight before the car, almost resting on
the tassels of the tall pines below them. She glanced back
and saw the little patrician lady smiling and waving her hand
to them from the great stone balcony that surrounded the
house, a brilliant electric light above her shining on the silver
of her hair, and making her delicate face stand out against
the dusky doorway, cameo-like; and her heart thrilled with
anticipation of the days she was to spend with this delight-
ful new friend. She wondered what the son had thought
of the interview, and whether perhaps he was discouraged
and felt it not worth while? At least she was glad of the
experience, even if nothing more came of it. And her wel-
come had been so genuine that she felt she might sometimeAp HP) JOB’S NIECE

keep her promise to call, even if she were not hired to go
regularly.

But Angus Macdonald said nothing about it for some
time. They slid down the wonderful curving drive from the
hilltop, passed into the woods and there in a certain spot he
came to a standstill and bade her look up.

For an instant she could not speak with the wonder of it.
Little intimate stars winking and blinking at her, so close
it seemed she could almost reach up and pluck them; great
blue stars and red stars so large they put her in awe and
seemed to be looking into her very soul, and lower, between
the branches, that single threadlike crescent moon of pure
silver! Like a royal boat in a sea of sapphire among the
lights of smaller craft.

They talked very little as they sat and looked. Macdonald
pointed out one and another star familiarly. “That’s Saturn
you know. Isn’t he a beauty? And down lower the Even-
ing Star. But this is my favorite, this big blue fellow over
here that changes color like an opal. You know Brown-
ing’s poem, ‘My Star,’ don’t you? I’ve always fancied it
was written about this star.

-

‘All that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
(Like the angled spar)
Now a dart of red,
Now a dart of blue;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too,
My star that dartles the red and the blue!
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:
They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.”JOB’S NIECE 223

“You see I know the older poems better than the late ones.
I used to have more time to read when I was quite young.”

They came-out at last below the resinous pines and into
the straight smooth road of the highway. Here Macdonald
suddenly changed the subject and began to talk business.

“Now,” said he, “Miss Dunbar, I think we’ve carried it
off pretty well, don’t you?”

“TI suppose so, but I feel somehow as if I had won your
mother’s friendship under false pretences,” confessed Doris.
“T think she is charming, and I shall always be glad to have
met her even if it goes no farther.”

He waited a whole second before he answered that.

“And why do you say ‘if it goes no farther’? he asked
gravely. “Did you feel that you could not undertake the
commission ?”

“Oh, not that!’ said Doris quickly. “I would love to do
it. But I was not sure you would think it wise after you
saw us together. I cannot quite see how I am to hang
around every day and do my duty when she merely looks
upon me as a girl friend of yours. Would she not think
it strange? Would she not begin to suspect after a time?
She is a very clever woman.”

“Yes, she is canny, I'll admit,” said the Scotchman smil-
ing, “but all the same I’m banking on you to overcome that
and become such a good friend that she will coax you morn-
ing, afternoon, and evening to come to her. Of course right
at the start you'll not be able to work in a visit every day or
even every other day for a while, but after you get things
going, I’m sure that won’t be any trouble. You see I think
I’ve picked the right person for this job and I’m putting it
up to you.”

“Oh, I hope I can fulfill your expectations,” said Doris
timorously, “but it seems most uncertain. It does not seem224 JOB’S NIECE

to me that such a thing can really be worth money to you.”

“It is worth more than I can tell you,” said the young
man. “I’ve made out a check in your name, for three
hundred dollars, your first month’s salary. Is that going
to be enough for a start, do you think? Or should I make
it more?”

“Oh!” said Doris startled, “I’m sure that is too much for
such a pleasant easy job. I really cannot take a check in
advance. I might not be able to please you.”

“Took here, Miss Dunbar, didn’t I understand that you
had someone else to support—a family you said?”

Doris assented.

“Well, if you went into an office or a library and gave your
whole time, and got to be expert at your job you would ex-
pect to get something like that. Now, this is a job to which
I want you to give your whole mind though not all your
time of course, and I want you to be free from financial
worries so that you can do it well. Have I offered you
enough to make that possible or had you expected to try
to get more?”

“Oh, no,” said Doris, “I knew that if I began with twenty-
five dollars a week anywhere I would be doing well. I think
you are offering me far too much. I do not think it
would be right for me to accept it. I shall be satished

9)

 

with

“Miss Dunbar, three hundred a month is the salary I
expected to offer if I found the right person to fill the posi-
tion, and I feel sure you are that person. Now, that matter
is settled, please! We will turn to another matter. There
is one point that I forgot to speak about. I should like a
weekly ac¢ount of what you have done and how you are suc-
ceeding, and also, a hint if my mother is getting lonely or sad
without me. I will keep in touch with you from time to
time, and give you an address that will follow me in myJOB’S NIECE 225

travels, and so I shall know how things are going. This
will give me freedom from anxiety during my work abroad,
which will be rather strenuous and requires a free mind.
Will you be willing to do this?”

“Why, certainly,” said Doris, “T shall be glad to do that,
and then if you are not entirely satisfied with what I am
doing you can tell me so frankly, and I can hunt for some-
thing else to do.”

“I think I am going to be satisfied,” said the young man
with conviction. ‘Now, about details. Transportation. I
can arrange with my chauffeur to come for you whenever
you telephone him. I will write the number among other
details which I will have my secretary prepare for you. And
when you move, wherever you move, I think it would be well
to make sure of a telephone connection at once, both that I
may always be able to get in touch with you by cable or be-
fore I go by phone, and that my mother may get into the
habit of calling for you and making a real friend of you
quickly. Of course all details like that I shall expect to
cover under the head of expenses. Also, if any time you
have to take taxis or stay at hotels, or take tea or luncheon
somewhere or buy books, or concert tickets, or any material
for carrying out your plan, these things I expect to pay for.
They are not to come out of your salary. I shall place a sum
of money in the bank in your name which will be for your
expense account. I will have all that arranged to-morrow
and will get in touch with you sometime before I leave and
explain any further details. Is that perfectly satisfactory ?”

Doris said it was. With glowing cheeks and eyes that
shone with relief, she reiterated that it was more than
satisfactory, and that she would endeavor to do her best to
fulfill his expectations.

And then suddenly they were in the city again, with lights

flashing brilliantly on every hand and traffic madly con-
15226 JOB’S NIECE

gested. Doris felt as if she had passed from fairyland into
Vanity Fair.

She begged him to set her down at a passing trolley that
would easily reach her home so that he might return at once
to dinner, but he would take her home, and so the beautiful
car drew up before the house in due time, and Rose, anx-
iously watching at the window, saw her sister handed out,
and watched them as they stood talking a moment before
Macdonald lifted his hat, and got into his car and drove
away.

Rose was at the door to meet her:

“Doris! Who is that perfectly stunning man you came
home with? And where on earth have you been? And
Doris, Ned is worse again. They have sent for a night nurse
to relieve this one, and John hasn’t been home since morn-
ing. I’ve been nearly crazy waiting for you to come!’

Doris felt the heavy thud of her heart as she received
the news, and throwing her hat and coat aside hurried up-
stairs without answering her sister’s questions. It seemed
always when she came home now that there was some bad
news awaiting her at the door.

Ned was having a sinking spell. The doctor was there,
and for a time all was hurry and silent ministration again.

“The trouble is he hasn’t anything to build on,” said the
doctor coming out of the sickroom at last with an anxious
face. “I think we’ve tided him through this place again,
and he’ll be all right to-night, but he’s all run down. I’m
afraid he’s been going a pretty hot pace. But don’t you
worry, little girl,” as he saw Doris’ anxious eyes. “We'll
pull him through yet. You go to bed and to sleep. You
can’t do any good by fretting and you've got to save your
strength for later when the long hard pull of convalescence
comes. Now, what’s this Rose has been telling me about
John? Is he lost? He’s old enough to know better than to

-JOB’S NIECE 227

worry you this way when you have so much other trouble.
Do you think he’s lost or only strayed?”

“No, sir,” said John, “I’m here! What’s wanted? I'll
go for it.”

“You're wanted, young man, where’ve you been? Your
sister has been fretting her life out about you, and Doris here
is ready to drop with anxiety about you. Is that the way
to act when your brother is sick and you’re the only man of
the family to look after them all? Speak up and tell me
where you’ve been all day? They say you didnt go to
school.”

“No, sir,” said John with dignity and a ring of quiet in-
nocence to his voice. “I’ve quit school. I’ve got a job!”

The doctor looked at him with lifted eyebrows, and Doris
felt a thrill of pride in him, no matter what the job was, he
looked so good and dirty and lovable and funny just then !
So sort of grown up and dependable!

“The dickens you have!” said the doctor eyeing him
severely, half incredulous. “Where is it?”

“Tyman’s,” said John with a bit of a casual swagger.
“Private office. I don’t get but six bucks a week yet, but
I get a raise every six months if I make good, and I’m gonta!
The raise ain’t but fifty cents, but it’ll count up in a little
while, and I am gonta be promoted as fast as I’m ready.”

“Hm!” said the doctor. “That’s not so bad! Who got
the job for your”

“Got it myself. Went an’ ast for it! Whodaya spose ne

“John, you dear child!” exclaimed Doris, with shining
eyes.

“Aw, that’s nothin’. I just went an’ ast. He camevacross.
That was all there was to it.”

“But why the dickens didn’t you tell your sister ?”

“Whaffor? Howd’ I know I was gonta like it? Say,
Doris, when you gonta have dinner? I’m holla clear down228 JOB’S NIECE

to my toes. I didn’t have any lunch but an apple, an’ I’m
starved.”

“You poor dear child!” exclaimed Doris in horror and
flew to get him his dinner, while Rose and Jean hovered
around him and questioned him eagerly as if he were some
young king. And he answered them like a little sore bear:

“Aw get out! Can’t ya lemme alone? I ain't the only
fella works in an office am I? What’s that? Say, got any
kinda pie? Oh, boy! Custard pie. You're a peach, Rose.
Didya make that fer dinner? Aw, gimme a piece now. ['ll
say I’m hungry. Say, that’s pie awright!”

And then Florence suddenly appeared on the scene, a‘red
spot on either cheek, and a voice of honeyed sweetness:

“Can’t I help you, Doris dear? You must be tired.”

Her eyes went anxiously to Doris’ hand and a kind of
fright filled them as she looked away quickly again. She
went toward the stove moving a saucepan around and al-
most scalding herself with the hot steam from the tea-
kettle.

“What's eating her?” growled John in-a low voice to
Jean who hung adoringly near him.

“T don’t know,” whispered back the little. girl cautiously.
“She’s been out a long while, and she came back. looking
kind of frightened, and asked where Doris was, and she’s
been acting that way ever since. Rose says she knows, but
she hasn’t had a chance to tell me yet. Oh, dear, this house
is dreadful. Something new going on every minute! Say,
John, I knew you’d get a job. I told Milton Page you
would !”

“Aw, that’s nothing. Whyn’t Milt come across with
something fer Doris? Whyn’t he come an’ try to help a
little? It gets my goat the way he treats Doris. ’F I was
twenty-one I’d get him out in the meadow back o’ the ball
ground an’ wallop him. He makes me sick! That guy!”JOB’S NIECE 229

“Sh! John,” said Jean softly. ‘Doris might not like it if
she heard you say that.”

“Aw, well, how c’n.I help it? He’s a mess! An’ so is
Flarnce! I don’t see why we have to have ’em wished on
us.”

“Sh! Here she comes!”

Florence came through the swing door from the kitchen
and passed through the dining-room without seeming to
notice the two children standing by the dining-room window.
She had a hunted look on her face and she went straight
to the telephone alcove under the stairs in the hall and began
to tug at the heavy walnut desk that held the telephone.
She carried a small pocket flashlight which she snapped on.

John watched her speculatively with lowering brows, and
sauntering toward the hall in his usual casual manner, stood
leaning against the doorway.

“’S matter, Flarnce?”

Florence started as if she had been caught stealing:

“Why—I—say, John, couldn’t you help me move this
desk out? I’ve lost something, and this won’t move. Take
hold and pull, that’s a dear boy. I can’t think what makes
it stick so.”

“°S loaded,” asserted John. “Dad had it loaded cause
it was always tipping over when ya leaned on’t phonin’.
Watcha lost? Paper?’

‘“Why—no—I— You see I came in from the street and
telephoned, and I think I dropped my pocketbook down be-
hind this desk.”

“Couldn’t get muchova pocketbook down that close fit.”
John took hold of the desk and yanked it out from the
wall. “Sure ya had yer pocketbook when ya came in?”

“Why—yes—I’m almost sure I had it.”

“Where’dya ben?”

“Oh, a number of places,’

3

evaded Florence looking em-230 JOB’S NIECE

barrassed. “But I’m almost certain I had it in my hand
when I went to look up a number in the book.”

“Wha’dya have in it? How much?’

“A little over twenty-five dollars,” she said anxiously.

“An’thing else?”

“Oh, a few rifles, some cards and papers with addresses,”
she seemed deeply distressed.

“Write ’em out fer me an’ I'll take "em over to Pat an’
have ’em broadcasted. Ef you lost it on the street or in a
store it’ll be returned to ya prob’ly in the morning. Get
a hustle on an’ I'll get it in ta-night. I gotta drag with the
fella that does it, and’ he’ll get it on the air fer me I know.”

“Oh, no, no! John, thank you, no! But I really couldn't,
not yet, John dear,’ said Florence all in a fluster. “I
wouldn’t want to be so prominent, and besides, John, they
were private papers, and it would be so kind of common to
have my affairs broadcasted.”

“Aw, they don’t tell yer name, just read out what was on
the papers an’ cards. You better offer a reward.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you, John dear.” Florence
hedged again. “But really I think I'll look a little farther
first. I’m so careless, you know, and I do so hate to have
people laugh at me for making a fuss about trifles. Of
course twenty-five dollars is really a trifle——”

“Twenty-five bucks is twenty-five bucks!” stated John.
“Suit yerself, but ef ya wantta get it on th’air you better
get busy. I’m gonta go ta bed. I’m a workin’ man now
ya know.”

With honeyed voice Florence thanked him again and
hurried to her room nervously.

John pushed the heavy desk back into place after giving
the floor a careful scrutiny:

“Now what’s she got up her sleeve?” he said to Jean.

   

.JOB’S NIECE 231

“Something, I’ll bet. She never called me dear before, an’
she better not keep it up er I’ll leave home! Gosh, but
she’s a flat tire!”

“John, I think it’s perfectly wonderful you got a job in
Lyman’s,” said Jean adoringly. “Won't it be great to come
in there some day and see you going around sort of inside
things as if you belonged? I shall just be so proud!”

“That’s no joke, kid. I’m gonta own that store some
day, and don’t you forget it! Some day I’ll take you around
and say: ‘Now choose anything you want. A pearl neck-
lace or—or—a canoe—or a camping outfit. They've got
some dandy ones down in the basement my

“Oh, John! Really?” with shining eyes. “I believe
you will. Won't it be great. But how can you ever do
ten

“Oh, that’s easy! Just stick, and go up! Just you wait
and see!”

 

About that time Angus Macdonald arriving back at home
found his mother waiting for him with a smile in the living-
room.

“Well, how do you like that girl, mother? Does she come
up to your standards in any way?” He said it in an offhand
manner as if it did not matter to him in the least what she
thought. His mother watched him wistfully, and thought
she saw through his casual manner.

“T liked her very much!” she said heartily. “She seems
utterly unspoiled and not at all like the modern girls that
come here with your cousin Viva. I hope she will keep
her promise and come to see me.”

“T think she will,’ answered the son heartily. “She seems
to be as much pleased with you as you are with her.”

There was an instant’s silence then, just long enough232 JOB’S NIECE

for each to feel unspoken questions in the atmosphere, and
then the mother asked, quite casually herself, with a studied
tone:

“How long have you known her, Angus? I never heard
you speak of her before.”

“Oh, not long!” answered the son hastily, as if it were
not at all important. ‘“I—she—not long you know! But
I’ve known her father for years. That is—in a business
Way.”

““Oh—she has a father

“Yes, she had a father whom everybody respected. He

 

died very recently.”

“Oh!” said the mother sympathetically. There was both
question and tenderness in her tone.

“He was a man with a vision bigger than his pocketbook,
I understand.”

“What a pity!”

“But they tell me he almost accomplished its fulfillment in
spite of that obstacle.”

“She looks like a girl with such a background,” she smiled
dreamily. “I think I am going to enjoy her.”

“That’s good,” said her son with intense satisfaction in
his face. ‘Well, mother, is dinner served? I’m really hun-

gry!”CHAPTER XIX

THE next two or three days became a kind of blur rather
than a period of time to Doris and Rose. Ned was ob-
viously worse. Sinking, the nurse called it. The nurse was
not a cheerful being to have around. She had no scruples
about saying Ned’s condition was the fault of the family.
She said they hurried too much and talked too loud and had
too many other people in the house. She had no use at all
for Mrs. Dunbar.

Florence meanwhile had kept pretty close to her own
room, crying a good deal, although she did it very quietly
after the nurse went into her room one day and administered
a shaking and a thorough good scolding. When she came
out at meal times she was most humble and apologetic in
her manner, especially to Doris, and always giving a quick
furtive darting glance at Doris’ left hand whenever she met
her anew, as if hoping to find something there which had
been missing.

But although she had become somewhat abject she was
not any less of a problem. She was always darting hither
and thither unexpectedly, looking behind the furniture, es-
pecially in the hall, as if she could not give up the obsession
that her lost pocketbook was there somewhere. And when
the girls in their hurry came upon her thus, they cast anxious
glances at one another. Doris wondered if it could be
possible that Florence was losing her mind. What mind
she had to lose.

There was no time for the sisters to have confidences.
Three days went by before Doris had opportunity to speak
233234 JOB’S NIECE

 

to Rose about the Silver Ledge house, or to think whether
she should tell her about her arrangement with Angus Mac-
donald. She had not even had time to put her check in the
bank. What things they needed were ordered by telephone.
The girls were busy every moment in the house. Milton
Page was utterly forgotten. The doctor was an almost
hourly visitor. Only John went steadily to his job every
morning. Even little Jean stayed at home from school to
run errands, of which there seemed suddenly to be so many.
Hannah had not come back at all. She had telephoned and
sent for her trunk, which they found to their surprise was
packed and strapped ready for her flitting. Hannah had been
a recent importation and was not expected to be loyal to the
family. Indeed Florence, during her reign, had seldom
been able to keep a servant longer than six weeks. Now
Florence seemed suddenly to have stepped into the back-
ground and everything devolved upon the two girls.

There came an hour when they sat down and waited, while
the doctor and the nurse hovered silently in the sickroom.
Doris did not dare to hope. She had not dared to pray for
Ned’s life. What had Ned to live for but misery if he
did come back from the borderland? Yet how were they
to go on and face life without this bright gay brother who
had always been so much, especially to her?

At the end of what seemed a century, the doctor came
out with a grim look of victory on his face.

‘Well, he’s passed the crisis and he’s going to get well,”
he said almost sourly, as if it were in spite of the family.

And then things began to happen again, as if they had
been held in abeyance while Ned’s life hung in the balance.

There was a relieved hurry upon the girls as they cleared
up the kitchen and prepared the morning meal. Doris had
time to remember that she had a check for three hundred
dollars that must go into the bank at once; and bright plansJOB’S NIECE 235

for the future began to take shape. It seemed good to see
the sunshine and to discover a valiant daffodil in bloom under
the dining-room window. At least they were passed this
storm and calmer waters seemed ahead.

Only Florence seemed untouched by the good news the
doctor had given them. She darted about like a gloomy
shadow just as she had been doing, and seemed more rest-
less, if possible, than ever, as if she felt that now that the
tension was relieved, the eyes of the family were again upon
her suspiciously.

Doris and Rose in the kitchen, bringing order out of the
confusion that had necessarily reigned there for the last
three days, talked in low tones:

“What are we going to do now, Doris?” asked Rose with
her tired young brow all in a pucker. “Did Mr. Hamilton
tell you when we have to get out of this house te

“Yes,” said Doris splashing the silver around in the hot
suds. “He said the man was willing to wait till Ned was
able to be moved. But we must go at once just as soon as
that time comes. The man has a chance to sell at an ad-
vantage if the people can come in by the first of the month,
and that’s not two weeks off.”

“Mercy!” said Rose aghast. “How can we ever do it?
Just go out and leave everything here but our clothes? Or
don’t we even get our clothes?”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” said Doris smiling. “He
thinks we can have the furniture or some of it at least. He
thinks the creditors are going to be satisfied with the other
property. He tried to save this house, but it was mort-
gaged so heavily that it did not seem worth while.”

“JT wouldn’t want the old thing anyway,” said Rose with
a choke of tears in her throat. I keep seeing Daddy in all
the rooms. I’d like to get out to-day and never come back.”
“T’m glad you feel that way,’ said Doris relieved. “IJOB’S NIECE

   

236

was afraid you would be terribly homesick. How would
you feel about going into the country?”

“Country?” asked Rose apprehensively. “Why country?
That’s expensive isn’t it? And wed be simply buried alive.
How could we work for our living in the country? Plant
potatoes ?”

“Rose, I saw Aunt Doris’ house Saturday. It’s out at
Silver Ledge. As a house, from the outside, it isn’t bad at
all. The place is a dump! I don’t know whether we could
stand it. But if it isn’t sold we might have to move there
for a while, at least until we found something better. What
if you and I were to take my runabout and go out there
this afternoon and look it over—see if it’s at all possible?
I’ve a whole lot to tell you, but I haven’t time now. I want
to go to the bank before lunch, and Mr. Hamilton is com-
ing at half past eleven.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s
getting late. Could you finish putting away these dishes
and let me go to the bank now? Then I'll be back by the
time Mr. Hamilton comes?”

“But Doris—” Rose’s face had gone blank with dismay,
“how could we—how could you ever get a job if you went
away out to Silver Ledge to live?”

“T’ve got a job, Rosie.” Doris’ eyes danced. “I meant
to tell you but there simply hasn’t been time. It’s a long
story. It’s quite romantic!”

“Doris! You’re not going to marry Milton Page after
allt

“No, never!” said Doris. ‘Nothing like that. By the
way, Rose, where did you find my ring?”

“Well, that story will wait too,” laughed Rose. “T’ll keep
it to hold over you until you tell me all you have to tell.”

“All right. Ill hurry, then,” and Doris wiped her hands
and took off her apron.

“But Doris,” pleaded Rose, “is there a trolley line or aJOB’S NIECE 237

railroad to Silver Ledge? How could you possibly get toa
job if you lived there?

“There’s a trolley, dearest, but I’m thinking of keeping
my car if we should find it feasible to live there. Would
you mind it so very much, Rose, to live in the country for a
while at least, if we find the house is at all possible?”

“No,” said Rose somewhat solemnly, “I don’t know as I
should, only— But Doris, how could you keep your car
if it isn’t paid for?”

“Pay for it,” laughed Doris gaily. “In fact that’s partly
what I’m going to the bank for.”

“Doris! You’re not going to borrow money?”

“Don’t be silly child! How could I borrow money without
any security. No, child, I’ve got some money, advance sal-
ary, and I want to deposit it. It’s all right, Rose, and I
really must hurry now or Mr. Hamilton will be here before
I get back. And don’t you worry. We won't go to Silver
Ledge unless you like it, not if there is a single thing else in
life we can do. I’m not going to go against my partner,
so cheer up!”

Doris was off, and Rose went about finishing the work,
and preparing a salad for lunch with thoughtful face. Rose
had affairs of her own that she was not telling anyone. She
was trying to see how they would fit into the picture. And
presently there came a telephone call:

“Yes, this is Rose. Oh, yes,—no, there’s no one here
now. Yes, my brother is better. The doctor thinks he’s out
of danger. But I can’t go this afternoon. No, it’s impos-
sible. I have to go somewhere on business with my sister.
No, I don’t think she would. No, I really can’t. Well—
perhaps—to-morrow! I’m not sure. No, I couldn’t pos-
sibly get off at night. Well, they would object. They cer-
tainly would! I’m not sure I want to anyway. A ride?
Oh, well that’s different. I might. Not to-day. I couldn’t238 JOB’S NIECE

 

possibly. What? A new car? What kind is it? Oh the
sporting model? I just adore that. I saw it at the auto-
mobile show. Is that the one you bought ?—I certainly will.
Well, I’ll try. You'll have to call up. No, I won't go off
‘f I’m needed here. Not till things straighten out. Not to
ride in the best car that was ever made. What? Well, Vil
try. Where? Oh, that’s too conspicuous. No, I'd rather
meet you where I did before. All right, but I’ve got to get
back by five o’clock. Yes, I have. It's impossible now.
There’s nobody else to take my place, and we have two
trained nurses to feed. I won’t go at all unless I can get
back in time. All right, to-morrow then at three at the
fountain.”

Rose hung up the receiver and went and stared out of the
window at the blank wall of the next house for a long time
with unseeing eyes. She had the look of one who has taken
a step about which she has hestitated for a long time. Pres-
ently she gave a toss of the wavy lock over her forehead and
went back to the kitchen to work twice as fast as before.

“Well, if I don’t like it out there I don’t need to stay,”
she said half aloud to herself. “There are ways to get
away. There'll be plenty of ways,” and she stepped into the
dining-room, and looked at herself in the mirror over the
sideboard soberly, appraisingly, unprejudicedly for a long
second.

“Yes, there'll be ways,” she said convincedly, and added
as she went back to the kitchen with a toss of her head—“if
I want to take them!”

The lawyer arrived just as Doris returned. He was ina
hurry and did not stay long. He had a conference with the
creditors at half past twelve.

He told Doris more about the house at Silver Ledge. He
said it was absolutely hers and could not be touched by any
of the creditors. He said that property out there was deadJOB’S NIECE 239

and there was very little hope of selling it at all. If it sold
it would bring scarcely anything. He promised to send the
key down by his office boy at once, but he put aside as im-
possible the idea of the family going out there to live. He
said it was out of the world. Doris had a passing worry
about the look in Rose’s eyes as he said that. She felt
deeply troubled about putting Rose away off there so far
from all her friends: still—if there was nothing else to do.

“Rose,” she said while they were preparing a hasty lunch
after the lawyer had gone, “you needn’t look so troubled.
We don’t have to go out there to live just because we’re
going to look at it. How would you like to look at a few
places in town on our way out? Have you thought of any
locality ?”

Rose brightened.

“Out there by the new trolley terminal there are apart-
ments,” suggested Rose. “They are putting them up by the
hundred. I heard they were charming. Susan Dabney has
a sister living in one of them. She told me yesterday you
pay twenty-five a month, and three hundred down. I don't
suppose we could get the three hundred, could we? But that
would be better than just paying out rent and having it gone.
These you own after a certain number of years.”

“We'll go and see them,” said Doris interestedly. “And
suppose you get the morning paper and look up anything else
you think sounds good. We'll do as many as possible this
afternoon. Florence will never get started. We must work
fast and decide soon you know, because we've simply got
to get out of here. Mr. Hamilton says the man is getting
vicious. He went to the doctor to-day to find out if we were
telling the truth about Ned.”

“Old Tightwad!” said Rose making up a mouth. “I hope
he gets stuck on his bargain!’’ and she went in search of the
morning paper.240 JOB’S NIECE

Doris took the precaution to call up the automobile com-
pany from which her car was purchased, and ask a few
questions about payments. She explained that her father
had been ill and had died, and that she was thinking of
taking over the car, if she could manage the payments. They
were most courteous and promised to send a man around to
make the arrangements with her. Then she called up the
garage where the car was kept and asked them to send it
around by one o'clock.

Rose had quite a list of “For Rents” marked in the paper,
and they started out immediately after lunch to look them
up. But half a dozen of them were eliminated at once by
the discovery that they were in an inaccessible neighborhood.
Three others they passed by without stopping when they saw
their surroundings. Another was beyond any possibility in
price, and at last they came down to three. These they set
themselves to consider faithfully. They parked the car and
dragged hesitating feet up long steep flights of narrow stairs,
glanced conscientiously into dismal bedrooms with one win-
dow apiece and ugly scarred wall-paper. With sinking
hearts they heard the exorbitant prices that went with these
dreary abodes, and then they went out and climbed silently
into the car again and went on their way.

Only once did a gleam of hope come to them when they
arrived at the operation of apartment houses that were going
up by the trolley terminal.

Yes, there was the sign, too good to be true! Three hun-
dred dollars down and twenty-five a month, paid the rent
and bought the apartment!

With alacrity they got out and went into the show apart-
ment which had been furnished by one of the big city depart-
ment stores, and was a gem of its kind with nothing for-
gotten that could make the compact abode charming and
convenient.JOB’S NIECE 241

They entered the spacious living-room with its archway
into a pleasant dining-room, and began at once in imagina-
tion placing their furniture. It all seemed so complete.
They would have to do away with a good many things that
were now in use in the larger house where they were living,
but all that was really necessary could be got into this one.
They exclaimed joyously over the tiny corner china closets,
and decided that they would hold everything needed for
ordinary use. They could pack the finer dishes into the
lower part of their old sideboard until a more prosperous
day.

They progressed to a tiny kitchenette, and paused a trifle
taken back. It was complete, but it was tiny. One or at
most two could work together there in safety if one stayed
close by the sink and the other by the gas stove. A third
would be overwhelmingly in the way.

With soberer faces they went on out into the narrow hall,
exclaimed with delight over the white tiled bathroom over
which the builder had expended his best energies. It was as
large as the kitchenette, and quite without blemish. Their
ardor arose. Perhaps the kitchen was not quite so bad.
Perhaps they could get used to it. After all, why did more
than one need to be in the kitchen at once?

They proceeded down the hall and found but one more room
remaning—a bedroom, opening onto a tiny sleeping porch, so
called by courtesy, though how one could sleep there unless
he arose before daylight was a mystery, as there were some-
thing like a hundred other such excrescences up and down the
block over under and across, like the backs of tenements,
and no pretence at shelter of any kind.

A card tacked up in the hall suggested a day bed in the
living-room if more sleeping accommodation was needed.
Rose and Doris turned and looked at each other blankly, and

then Rose broke down laughing. Without a word they
16242 JOB’S NIECE

turned and went down to their car. Fancy trying to get the
Dunbar family into that apartment! One bedroom and a
sleeping porch!

“So that’s that!’ said Rose as they rode away. “Now,
if the country house is any better than that, lead me to it!”

Doris smiled.

“Don’t think because we failed to-day there may not be
something in the city for us yet, perhaps,” she said wisely,
“and don’t go to Silver Ledge thinking we’ve got to take it
whether or no. There’ll be something somewhere. If we
don’t like Silver Ledge we'll forget we have it. But it
happens to be convenient for my job this summer, that’s all.
And now I've got a story to tell

Rose listened with wide romantic eyes.

“What’s the man like?” she asked with a mature look in
her eyes that brought back that shade of anxiety to Doris’
eyes. How Rose had grown up during Doris’ last year at

%)

college! It seemed incredible.

“Oh, he’s pleasant enough,” said Doris. “That wouldn't
matter anyway. He’s to be abroad indefinitely. It’s his
mother that I’m concerned with, and she’s lovely. She looks
like Dresden china. She’s a woman out of a book!”

“I’m afraid she’d bore me awfully,” yawned Rose. “Will
you have to stay if you find something better?”

“Why yes, I think there’d be a moral obligation. But I
wouldn’t be likely to find anything better, Rose. He’s pay-
ing me three hundred a month, im advance! That’s the
money I went to put into the bank this morning!”

“Great Czsar’s ghost!” exclaimed Rose classically. “Doris
Dunbar, are you talking in your sleep? That’s more money
yet, anyway!”

 

than I can make in the movies

“Tt is rather wonderful, isn’t it?’ said Doris smiling
dreamily. They had passed beyond the city limits now and
were riding along between suburban streets with prettyJOB’S NIECE

lawns just beginning to blush into fresh green. And pres-
ently green fields and open country came in sight.

“See that tree, Rose,” Doris exclaimed impulsively. “Isn't
it beautiful ?”

“That! Beautiful? Doris, you’re growing nutty. That’s
a dead tree.”

“T know, but it’s so—rugged—and wonderful! It has—
character !”

“Fa, ha! Doris! Character in a tree! That’s a good
one. Mention that to our friend Milton the next time you
see him, do! I’d love to watch his practical brow when he
hears it the first time. But it wouldn’t be the last time you'd
hear of it. You’d hear the changes rung on it the rest of
your natural life, and then some.”

‘Well, I shall not mention it to him,” said Doris with her
lips in a firm little line. “I’m done with Milton forever!”

“Tt may be so, but I don’t know,’’ hummed Rose tanta-
lizingly. ‘Not if I know Milton, my beloved sister. You've
only just begun. You'll find you can’t shake off Muilton
Page just by telling him so. He’s thick-skinned. You'll
have to throw him down again and again before he believes
it. You’ve only made a little dent in his pride yet. Wait
till you get down to the real him and then see what he does.”

“Well, don’t let’s talk about him,” said Doris. “I want to
have a good time if that’s possible after all we've been
through.”

“All right, Dorrie, but tell me quick, when did you know all
this? Don’t tell me you knew it when you came home that
night. You couldn’t have been mean enough to keep three
hundred dollars to yourself for three whole days! The
check must have come in the mail this morning, | suppose.”

“No, he gave it to me on the way home. But I couldn't
talk about it then, with Ned so sick, and everything upset.
Why Rose, there wasn’t a minute to talk except in the dead244 JOB’S NIECE

of night, or when we were sitting around waiting to see what
the doctor would say.”

The miles fairly flew away till suddenly Doris slowed down
speed and announced almost solemnly :

“This is Silver Ledge.”

Rose hushed her merry tongue and began to look appre-
hensively about.

“The sun still shines, here,” she announced after a minute,
“and there’s plenty of good air to breathe. Are all the in-
habitants dead, or gone to the city?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Doris anxiously. “It does
look dead, doesn’t it?”

“Dead as a door-nail! I should call it Rip-Van-Winkle-
ton. However there may be a new sensation here, who
knows. Is this the house? It looks like a picture. But
could we ever make it come alive?”

“It’s better than Dawson street apartments, isn’t it ?”

“I should say it is! Don’t remind me of that or I’ll just
sit down and stay here to-night.”

Rose sprang out of the car and Doris after her, their eyes
on the house.

The lilacs were just beginning to send out little green
leaves, and faint purple buds. Rose discovered them, and
went around to look at them before she would go into the
house.

“Real lilacs of our own!” she exclaimed, “and my word,
Doris! Is that a lily of the valley by the steps there? I
thought they only grew in florists’ shops.”

The house was a rambling affair, whose green blinds had
weathered so many storms that they had taken on that soft
bluish faded tint they call jade. The front porch and the
fan-shaped window over the door were exquisite. There
was a wide hall with a winding stair, and a long low room at
the right with the tall gilt mirrors that Doris remembered.JOB’S NIECE 245

To the left of the stairs was a downstairs bedroom, and back
of it a dining-room and lean-to kitchen, with a pump. Up-
stairs there were three bedrooms and a big linen closet with
shelves and a window. Above there was a speck of an attic
reached by a ladder through a hatch.

“We could do it,” said Doris thoughtfully, standing in the
biggest upstairs front bedroom. ‘“But—a pump!— And
no bathroom!”

“Build one!” said Rose quickly. “Dorrie, I guess we’ve
got to give ita try. We could just stuff in. It looks good
to me, summer coming on.”

“Rose, you’re a good sport.”

But Rose turned quickly away to hide something that
lurked in her eyes.

“Florence would have to have this room. She wouldn’t
stand for the small one,” she went on practically, “and she’d
be afraid downstairs.” “The boys would have to take that
together,” said Doris thoughtfully.

“But what about Ned’s wife?” Rose questioned anxiously.

“She would never bury herself away out here!’’ said Doris
sharply. “Ned will have to go with her if it comes to that.
But I was thinking, until Ned is real well and strong we
could fix this linen closet for John. He would love those
shelves for his junk.”

Suddenly they discovered it was getting late and they
locked the house and hurried away with a lingering look back.

“See, there’s a barn back there for the car,” said Rose,
“and Doris, I would just love to open all those old chests of
drawers and rummage, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think there’s much there, perhaps,” said Doris.
“It seems to me they gave most of the things away when
Aunt Doris died. Now, Rose, we’ll have to break it to the
children to-night, for we ought to begin to start moving at
once, to-morrow!”246 JOB’S NIECE

But when they arrived at home the nurse met them in the
hall with a frown. She had evidently been watching from

the window for their coming.

“The old lady has gone out!” she announced glaring at
them as if it were their fault, “and that silly flapper wife of
his is upstairs with the patient. She sent me out of the
room. If this kind of thing is going on I’m not going to
stay on the case. It’s as much as his life is worth to have

all this excitement when he’s just turned the crisis.”CHAPTER 2X

ZEPHYR had indeed arrived!

Even while they were gazing at the nurse in consternation
the door-bell sounded through the house, and there was the
expressman with Zephyr’s two trunks.

It developed that she was even now installed beside her
husband’s bed, his hand in hers, and when she was summoned
by the nurse to a conference downstairs she declined to
come.

“T’ve come to take care of my husband as the doctor sug-
gested,” she said in a low sweet voice. “Ned wants me, so
I’m going to stay!”

Doris in the doorway saw Ned fix his large feverish eyes
on the nurse and assent whisperingly.

Doris and Rose in the hall exchanged glances of consterna-
tion, in no wise lessened by the plaintive querulous voice of
the invalid:

“Zephyr! Zephyr! You won’t go away and leave me
again ?”

And Zephyr’s triumphant voice rang tantalizingly sweet
and clear:

“No, Honey Boy, I’ll stick right around till you’re on the
job again. And then we'll clear out! Nobody’s goin’ to
put anything over on you! I gotta lawyer now myself, and
we'll see who gets the go-by.”

It seemed that there was some sort of a protest from the
bed at that, and then Zephyr’s voice placatingly :

“Oh, sure! Ef that’s what you want. You're the cat’s
whiskers you know, so hurry up and get well and we'll have
247248 JOB’S NIECE

a howling time. I got a two weeks’ vacation. We'll simply
do the world! Come, don’t you feel better already ?”

An ecstatic murmur from the bed struck to the hearts of
the two.

Rose and Doris stole away down the stairs.

“Oh, Doris, what can we do?” whispered Rose in a terri-
fied voice.

“Call the doctor!’ answered Doris. “But what can he do
when Ned feels like that? It might kill him if we sent her
away. I suppose we've got to stand her till he gets well.”

Then they suddenly became aware of the two expressmen
standing in the hall with the two trunks beside them await-
ing orders.

“Go telephone the doctor!” whispered Doris, and went
down to meet the men. But before she could give any di-
rections Zephyr’s voice floated sibilantly down the stairs!

“Bring those trunks right up here,” she called, and the
men shouldered the biggest trunk and pressed past Doris to
the stairs.

She tried to think what to do, and hurried after them
up the stairs again.

“You may put them at the back end of the hall under
that window,” she told them.

But Zephyr was breezily giving directions, flinging open
the door of Ned’s room.

“You may bring them right in here!’’ she commanded,
“and you better unstrap them before you go. I want to
show my husband some new things I’ve got.”

Then the nurse, coming out in the hall and shutting the
door with decision:

“You can’t bring any trunks in here! This is a sick-
room. You'll have to have some other room if you're go-
ing to stay. I can’t have trunks around in my way while
I’m nursing. Besides the room isn’t large enough.”JOB’S NIECE 249

“Oh, very well,” answered Zephyr airily. “But you
needn’t talk like that to me. You aren’t the only nurse in
the world, and I can easily dismiss you. I'll take this room
then, it’s close by—’’ and she flung open Mrs. Dunbar’s
door and motioned to the expressmen.

“Put the trunks right in there anywhere and don’t forget
to unstrap them.”

But Doris had reached the upper landing by this time and
came and stood in her stepmother’s door:

“This room is occupied,” she said firmly. “The trunks
will have to go to the end of the hall until we can make
some arrangements.”

The expressmen paused, the trunk between them, and
looked from one girl to the other uncertainly.

“I said put the trunks in that room,” said Zephyr shrilly,
stamping her foot for emphasis. “They are my trunks and
I mean to be obeyed !”

For answer Doris reached in for the key and locked the
door on the outside putting the key in her pocket.

“This is Mrs. Dunbar’s room,” explained Doris. “It is
impossible for you to have it. Now—’” turning to the ex-
pressmen—“you may put the trunks where I told you. It
is the only place ready for them at present.”

Zephyr made a quick rush toward her and took hold of
her arm fiercely:

“Tf you don’t do as I say I shall have my husband taken
away from here to a hospital!’ Doris wondered in passing
that even in her anger Zephyr’s eyes still had that artificial
stare. It seemed almost unhuman.

“T don’t think you’ve taken very good care of him, any-
way,” Zephyr went on, “and I don’t like that nurse. I’m
going to dismiss her and take care of Ned myself. That's
what I came here for. He needs cheering up. She keeps
him all shut up here alone. No wonder he’s sick!”250 JOB’S NIECE

“Vou will have to talk to the doctor about that,” said
Doris coldly.

“The doctor! What do I care for the doctor? I'l get
a new doctor. I hear this one is a regular old stick any-
way. I'll have a consultation, that’s what I'll do! Then

 

we ll see

But the doctor walked up the stairs in the midst of it.

“What’s all this?” he asked glaring at the two girls.
“Don’t you know it’s all wrong for Ned to have all this
noise ?”’

Then his practised ear caught the querulous tones from
the sickroom:

“Zephyr! Zephyr! You won’t go away and leave me?”

The doctor set his jaw and glared at the complacent face
of the impudent young flapper.

“T’ve taken your advice and come to nurse my husband,”
said Zephyr sweetly, giving a disarming smile with her baby
blue eyes.

But the old doctor was not to be cajoled. His jaw set in
anything but a crestfallen manner.

“You've got to do as you're told,” he growled, “or out
you go!”

“Oh, certainly,” drawled Zephyr. “But I’m not sure |
shall keep you for doctor. I want a consultation. I don't
think you’ve got my husband well very quick. I think we
oughtta have another doctor.”

She said off the words parrot-like as if from memory.

The doctor looked over his spectacles at her and drew down
his bushy eyebrows till he seemed like some wild animal
glaring at her from his lair, but about his mouth was a
comical expression as if he wanted to laugh.

“Very well, young lady,” he said, “you just go downstairs
to the living-room and we'll talk about it. At least Tm in
charge till another doctor comes, and I judge my patientJOBS NIECE

has had enough excitement for the time. I'll just see how
his pulse is and give him some medicine and I'll be with
you. No, you don’t need to come into the room just now.
I'll explain to Ned. I’ve known him longer than you have—”
and the doctor went into the sickroom and shut the door,
turning the key quickly.

“That’s all right, Ned,” he said soothingly to the excited
boy on the bed. “She’s just gone downstairs for a few
minutes to get something and if you'll quiet down and take a
little nap while she’s gone I'll let her come back again.
But as long as you toss around like this and keep calling out,
she can’t come! It wouldn’t be good for you.”

The doctor administered a sleeping powder and sat for a
few minutes beside the bed holding Ned’s intermittent pulse
between practised fingers, studying the delicate features of
the sick boy with intent yearning tenderness on his rugged
countenance. Ned was the eldest son of his dearest friend,
the friendship dating back to schoolboy days.

After a minute or two he rose softly and went back to the
hall.

Zephyr was in an altercation with the nurse at the head
of the stairs. She had ordered ice cream from the caterer’s
and was demanding that it be served to herself and Ned at
once.

The doctor took her firmly by the elbow and propelled
her into a vacant room near by.

“Now,” said he, “it’s time you heard a thing or two. Did
it ever occur to you that Ned is not of age?”

“Oh, yes he is,” said Zephyr pertly. “He’s nearly twenty-
two. He told me so himself the night I met him.”

“Well, I happened ta be present at his birth,” said the
doctor gravely. “He is just nineteen years and three days

old to-day.”
“Oh, well, I don’t see that that makes any difference,252 JOB’S NIECE

anyway,” said Zephyr petulantly. “His father is dead and
Mrs. Dunbar is only his stepmother.”

“It makes a great deal of difference,” said the doctor.
“Ned is not his own master. He is still under guardians.
I’m one of his guardians. Mr. Hamilton whom you saw here
the other day is the other. If we choose to contest your
marriage we can have it set aside as illegal. As for your
taking things into your own hands here and trying to man-
age, it can't be done! You have no right in the matter what-
ever, and you can tell that to your people that sent you here
to make trouble. I am the family physician and they wish
me to keep the case. I intend to keep it. If you wish to
remain here you will have to do as I say. If I consider
it wise I may let you remain and come into the room oc-
casionally, but it will be only for a few minutes at a time
and you must promise not to make any more fuss. You take
your orders from that nurse! Understand? She is the
best nurse in this county for a case of double pneumonia and
she is going to stay! I’m not so sure that you are! It is
entirely up to you. If you behave yourself and keep quiet
and make no trouble anywhere, I may allow you in the
room now and then. But it will be only because Ned seems
to have taken the fancy for you to stay; not in any sense
because you have the right, because legally you haven't.
Now, do you understand? I may decide that Ned is worse
off with you here than he would be if he fretted for you.
In that case you go. It all depends on what the nurse tells
me of your behavior. As for ice cream, eat all you like
yourself, but don’t mention it to Ned. When he is ready to
eat ice cream or anything else I’ll see that he has it and not
before. Your part here is simply to come in when you are
called by the nurse and look pretty and smile. If you do
any more than that, out you go! Now, are you ready to
stay on those conditions ?”JOB’S NIECE 253

Zephyr stood staring at him with a baffled look in her eyes,
but her cherry lips had a sullen droop with no sign about
them of surrender.

“T’ll stay!” she said sulkily.

The doctor eyed her uncertainly:

“There’s another thing,” he added savagely. “You've got
to behave like a lady to Ned’s family. I’m here to protect
them as well as him. There is no reason whatever why they
should allow you to stay here except for their brother’s
sake, and if you do not treat them right you’ll have to leave
even if it is hard on Ned. Now, that’s all. But mind you
do as the nurse tells you.”

Zephyr walked down the hall and back to Ned’s door with
her head up but there was anger and defiance in every line
of her supple back. As the doctor watched her, he knew he
was not done with her yet.

It was late that night when at last Doris and Rose locked
the door of Doris’ room and sat down on the bed together,
too exhausted almost to try to get undressed.

They had moved everything from Rose’s room to Doris’,
and made Rose’s room ready for the irate sister-in-law to
occupy, and now they looked at one another with white
despairing faces much as if they had been taken prisoners
in a camp of war and saw no way of release.

“Weil,” said Doris, with a weak attempt to smile, “we
never know what is coming next, do we?”

“Don’t!” said Rose sharply, and suddenly broke down in
tears.

“There, there, sister, don’t cry!” said Doris wearily. “Af-
ter all, it won’t kill us. Really there’s something almost
funny about it all. So many things—and such queer ones.
There is a funny side to it, Rose. Let’s look at that and
let the tragic part go.”

“How can you?” exclaimed Rose furiously, dashing awayJOB’S NIECE

254

see anything funny about having a
How can we ever hold up our heads
I hate Ned for having given her to us.

her tears. “I dont

sister-in-law like that!

again? I hate her !

I never can love him again-
“Don’t dear! Remember, Ned has been very near death !

And he’s our brother.

 

He is by no means out of danger yet !
This isn’t a thing of life and death. Poor Ned. When he
gets well he’s going to have enough to bear, as the doctor
said. without our making it harder for him. Let’s just try
to show her that we are ladies.”

“How can we be ladies when she acts like a little beast?
I'd like to scratch her eyes out! Great big blue china things!
She makes me feel like doing everything wicked I ever heard
of before. She makes me want to kill her !”’

“Took here, Rose! That is terrible. Don’t you see you
are worse than he is when you feel that way? She is just
a coarse little untaught child, who is trying to get somewhere
she doesn’t belong. Don’t let her draw you lower than she
ever was. She can’t really affect us at all if we go on doing
right. We are not to blame for her. She can’t hurt us.”

“Oh. can’t she!” retorted Rose. “Suppose she goes and
talks to that Mrs. Macdonald? How would you like to have

her turn up there sometime ?”

Doris’ face blanched at the thought.

“Oh, she wouldn’t do that!” she exclaimed. “She needn't
know anything about Mrs. Macdonald. Besides it couldn't
really hurt us. It might be humbling, but it couldn’t hurt
us!”

“Well, I feel it could,” sobbed Rose. “And I don’t see
what’s the use of trying to live and be decent if we've got to
go around with things like that belonging to us. I hate
it all!”

It was a long time before Doris got Rose soothed and
quieted, and stillness settled on the house. But Doris layJOB’S NIECE 255

thinking out what she had to do on the morrow. She de-
liberately put aside the detestable sister-in-law as if she were
not, and set herself to plan the moving.

It was at the breakfast table the next morning that they
broke the news to her stepmother. They were later than
the rest, and Rose was hovering back and forth between
kitchen and dining-room, bringing more scrambled eggs and
fresh coffee. Doris had dark rings under her eyes and
looked worn and tired. It was Mrs. Dunbar who began the
conversation :

“Who is that person upstairs that claims to be Ned’s wife?
Why are we tolerating her? I supposed she was someone
come to visit the nurse, but I met her in the hall this morn-
ing and asked her what she was doing here, and she said
she was Ned’s wife. How absurd! Why Ned isn’t old
enough to be married!”

“No, he isn’t,” assented Doris. “But he did it. And
the doctor seems to think she’ll have to stay for the present
until Ned is out of danger. You see Ned is infatuated with
her and wants her beside him, and he is too weak to be crossed
just new. It might cost him his life. It will hasten his
recovery if we let her stay.”

“Well, he doesn’t deserve to recover quickly. A boy that
would marry a girl like that! She takes airs on herself!
For my part I’d send Ned to the hospital where he belongs
and not upset the whole household on his account. You
look sick yourself this morning, Doris, or else that black
dress you are wearing is most unbecoming.”

For some reason Florence had decided to placate Doris.
She was trying in every way to be nice to her, a thing she
had never been known to do before.

But Doris was too preoccupied to wonder at it. It was
Rose in the kitchen listening, who put two and two together
and began to wonder why.256 JOB’S NIECE

“Florence,” said Doris making up her mind to plunge in
and have the troublesome announcement over with. “You
know we’ve got to move right away?”

“Right away? What do you mean? I don’t see why we
have to move.”

“Mr. Hamilton told you why the other day,” said Doris
patiently. ‘This house is sold and the owner wants it at
once. We've got to get out.”

“But how could it be sold? We haven’t signed any deed.
They couldn’t sell it without our consent.”

“Tt is sold for debt. There is no use going over that
again. The whole thing is we’ve got to get out just as soon
as Ned can be moved. The doctor told me last night that
if Ned gets along all right we might be able to take him
away from here in a week or ten days. But we can begin
to move the rest of the rooms at once. Now, Florence, had
you any idea of where you wanted to go? Had you thought
at all about it?”

“So you're going to try to turn me out after all,” said
Florence beginning to cry softly. “After what your father
put in his will about letting me always live in this house,
you are going to send me away!”

“No, Florence! I didn’t say that. You are going with
us of course. I was asking if you had thought about where
we would go? You certainly have a right to make a sug-
gestion about it.”

“Oh, no, my word doesn’t count for anything. My wishes
are nothing! J’m nothing!’

Florence was getting well under way now in one of her
tantrums, the tears flowing copiously down her thin, faded,
little face. Doris was in despair.

“Tisten, Florence!’ she said sharply, putting her hand on
the older woman’s shoulder and giving her a little shake for

emphasis. “I want to tell you something. Don’t act like aJOB’S NIECE 257

fool! We have serious business to consider. I have a
house out in the country. It was left to me by Aunt Doris
years ago. I don’t know if you ever heard much about it.
Even I didn’t know if it were still mine, but Mr. Hamilton
says it is, and that no one can take it from us, because it
wasn’t included in father’s property. Yesterday Rose and
I went out to look at it, and we think that with some fixing
we can all get into it and be fairly comfortable. I am asking
if you have anything better to suggest?’

“There! I told you that my wishes were nothing! So
you have gone ahead without consulting me and got it all
fixed. What was the use of asking? Your house! So
you would be the head of the house and order me around!”

“Oh, Florence!’ Doris was in despair.

At that juncture the telephone rang sharply, startlingly,
as if the caller were impatient. Rose appeared at the door
and motioned Doris to go. Then she came swiftly and
silently over to the weeping woman.

“Florence!”’ she said sharply. ‘Do you want me to tell
Mr. Hamilton what you did with Doris’ ring? Or will you
behave yourself and act like a lady?”

Florence stopped weeping as if petrified for an instant,
and then looked up with simulated indignation.

“What do you mean? What would I have to do with
Doris’ ring?”

“There is no use pretending,” said Rose coolly. “I know
that you pawned it, and I know where. You needn’t bother
to try and deny it. I know. I’ve known it several days.
No, Doris doesn’t know it yet. I haven’t had time to tell
her!’ as she saw the wretched woman’s frightened glance
dart toward the telephone-table in the hall where Doris sat.
“And perhaps I won’t tell her—yet—if you behave yourself.
But you’ve got to stop crying and act like a woman, or

else I'll send for Mr. Hamilton this minute and J’ll tell him
17258 JOB’S NIECE

everything! Now, sit up quick! She’s coming! And
don’t you dare make any more fuss while we’re in this house
or everybody’ll know just what you are, and where you got
that twenty-five dollars you say was in your pocketbook.”

Doris suddenly appeared at the door with a troubled look
in her eyes.

“Rose, where did you find that ring?” she asked. “I can’t
understand. Milton has telephoned. He insists it is not
the same ring.”

“Mercy!” said Rose. “What on earth do you mean? I’m
sure

 

Mrs. Dunbar sat up suddenly and began to mop her eyes
hastily.

“It’s all right, Doris dear!” she whimpered with signs
of immediate recovery in her voice. “I am foolish of course
to care so much just for a house. But this is the house
where your dear father brought me home as a bride you
know.” She gave a final sob and looked up more cheerfully.
“But Pll be brave! I will really! Yes, of course, I’ll do
whatever you say, you dear child! You’re such a wonderful
courageous woman. What is it you would like me to do
about it, Doris? I suppose your ideas will be best. I
hadn't thought— If you really think we must go.”

“We must!” said Doris shortly, “And if you’re willing
to help I wish you would get your things on and come with
me this morning out to Silver Ledge. You shall have first
choice of rooms of course, and I think we ought to take
someone out and start cleaning at once. The house has been
shut up a long time.”

“Very well, I’ll go at once and get ready,” said Mrs. Dun-
bar, arising hastily and putting her napkin in its ring.

Doris was surprised but relieved.

“Perhaps you would be willing to stay out there and direct
the woman about the cleaning this morning while I come

9?JOB’S NIECE 259

back and attend to securing a mover,” she said. “I sup-
pose we could get Chloe Whitely if she isn’t busy to-day.”

Mrs. Dunbar assented eagerly:

“Why, certainly. And you'd like me to look up some
cleaning cloths of course. Rose, you better get some brooms
and mops together.”

Doris listened to her stepmother in amazement, and almost
forgot for the moment that a new trouble was looming on
the horizon.

“We ought to get started at once,’ said Mrs. Dunbar
with sudden efficiency, “if we are to accomplish anything
to-day. You telephone Chloe and I'll go up and get my
hat and gather together some cleaning cloths and aprons.
We'd better take a lunch, hadn’t we? Just a box of
crackers and a bottle of milk will do; and tea for Chloe.
You know she must have tea or she won’t work. Is there
a tea-kettle or a stove or anything out there?”

“T think there’s a stove, but it’s an old-fashioned wood or
coal stove. I don’t know whether we can get it to work
or not.”

“We'll need hot water for cleaning. We'll have to get a
man in to fix the stove and make a fire. Hurry, Doris. It
isn’t like you to waste time. You know Chloe won’t work
after four o'clock.”

“But I can’t go immediately,” said Doris with a troubled
frown. “There are some things I must do for the nurse
first, and Milton is coming in a few minutes. I cannot go
till he is gone.”

“T cannot understand why Milton should hinder us,” said
Mrs. Dunbar with a frightened look. “I should think you
would just leave a note for him and let him come after you
if he wishes.”

“Well, perhaps,”’ said Doris, reflecting that perhaps she
had better take her stepmother now while she was willing.

’260 JOB’S NIECE

“T must see Rose first. Perhaps she can talk to Milton
for me.”

She hurried out into the kitchen after Rose, eager ques-
tions on her lips, but Rose was not there. She had slipped
up the back stairs on cautious feet, and was even now
sliding noiselessly down the front stairs with her hat and
coat in her hand and making for the front door. As Doris
hurried up the back stairs after her, Rose closed the front
door silently, ran down the steps and around the corner with
great haste.

Doris met Mrs. Dunbar coming anxiously from the direc-
tion of Rose’s room, her eyes furtive and frightened, and
an artificial smile on her face.

“Where in the world is Rose?” she asked fretfully. “She

ought to be getting the things together for us. I told her
about the mops, but she might make some tea and put it
in the thermos bottle.” She looked nervously around the
hall like a bird that was expecting the cat momently. “I
do wish we could get off at once. Won't you telephone
Chloe quick?”
“Just as soon as I possibly can, Florence,” said Doris,
wondering if perhaps after all her stepmother was not going
out of her mind. Such a sudden change of tactics was in-
explicable.

Then the door bell rang and Doris exclaimed:

“There’s Milton now! [I'll go just as soon as I can get
away. You be all ready!” and hurried down the stairs,
wondering where in the world Rose had gone.

Mrs. Dunbar meanwhile went like a shot into her own
room and locking the door began to pace up and down the
room excitedly wringing her hands and exclaiming aloud:

“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? There is no
one to help me! No one loves me! No one will believe
me! What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?”CHAPTER XXI

Mitton had the air of a righteous man come to deal out
justice when he stepped into the house. He looked at Doris
coldly, piercingly. She almost shivered as she met his glance
and felt a passing gratitude that she was no longer account-
able to him. She had a feeling that he was a jailor whom
she had barely escaped. She was ashamed that this was
so. It seemed reprehensible that she could so quickly turn
against one whom she had supposed she loved well enough
to marry. Now she began to understand that love had
taken very little part in the contract that had existed between
them.

“Well, have you found it?” he asked pointedly, holding her
glance with his steel one.

“Come in,” she said quietly. “We do not talk in the hall
if we can help it on Ned’s account.”

He stalked quickly ahead of her into the living-room and
whirled about facing her, the question still in his eye, as if
the voicing of it had been held in abeyance in the air until
he arrived where it was effectual.

“T have not been able to find Rose yet,” she said pleas-
antly. “She must have gone out.”

‘What on earth can Rose have to do with the question ?”

“Why, Rose found the ring for me.”

“Oh, she did!” he said significantly. “You were very
careful not to tell me that before. Where did she find it?”

“T am sure I don’t know,” said Doris haughtily. “Really
Milton, you are talking very strangely. Why shouldn’t
261262 JOB’S NIECE

Rose find the ring? I suppose she found it on the bureau
where Jean says she put it.”

“Where Jean says she put it! You suppose she found it
on the bureau! There seem to be a good many uncertain-
ties. And why, pray, did you not ask Rose where she
found it?”

“Because I have been too busy with serious matters to
have even thought about it. I took it for granted that
everything was all right. How could it possibly be other-
wise? The ring was found and I had given it back to you.
What else was necessary ?”’

“But it was not the same ring!”

“Are you sure you know the ring, Milton? It is a long
time since you gave it to me. I do not suppose you have
noticed it much since I have had it.”

“On the contrary I have always watched it with satisfac-
tion on your hand. Do you suppose that a man can work
hard to attain anything in this world without taking note
and pride in the thing he has attained

“Then why did you not notice that it was not the same
¢ when I gave it to you the other night? Why has it

~

3)
>>)

taken so long for you to discover what you claim as a
mistake ?”

“T did not look at the ring at the time because I was deeply
annoyed with you,” he answered coldly and concisely. “I
carried it home and put it safely away without looking at it
even casually that night, because I was too much annoyed
to trust myself to look the thing over. Besides I had
examined it only a few days before when you left it on the
parlor table, and I knew it to be all right then.”

“Well, then, how did you find out that it was not?”

“T took it out this morning to put it in a box that I might
leave it in my safety deposit box at the bank when I go
away this evening on a business trip, preparatory to leavingJOB’S NIECE

for the West. I looked at it carefully, and discovered to
my consternation that the marking was not there! Then
I examined the stone and saw that it had no brilliance.
Alarmed, I took it to the jeweller from whom I purchased
it, and he tells me that this thing is common glass, set in
the cheapest kind of a setting. Now, I have come for an
explanation. Are you playing some kind of a joke upon
me, or is there some double crossing going on in this house?
It will probably be easy to discover the culprit. You have,
as you told me, a strange nurse in the house, which is line
enough for any detective to follow immediately. And then,
where there are children you never know what to count upon.
Either John or Jean or even Rose might have coveted so
valuable a stone and thought they could get away with it!”

“Milton !”

Doris’ cheeks were crimson with anger, her eyes flashing
fire.

His gaze met hers like steel on steel, and only gleamed
the brighter.

“There is no use going into hysterics over the suggestion
that some of your family may be involved. Such things
happen every day. I only say, Find the Ring! You cer-
tainly know this is not it!”

He handed her a ring, made in the similitude of her own,
yet so obviously an imitation that even a child could have
told it was not real.

Doris took it and exclaimed:

“That is not the ring I gave you!”

“It certainly is! Do you doubt my word?”

“T suppose,” said Doris scornfully, “it is no worse for
me to doubt your word, than for you to doubt mine—ours,”’
she added as an afterthought.

“T have never suggested that I doubted your word,” he
stated. “Your family is a different matter.”264 JOB’S NIECE

“My family and I are one.”

“Very well, explain this ring.”

“T cannot explain it,’ said Doris. “But if my word is
not enough for you until I can make further investigation
perhaps I had better give you a check for the ring. I be-
lieve you told me the value was three hundred and fity
dollars. I happen to have that much money in the bank
just now fortunately. Wait here and I will get my check
book.”

“You will do nothing of the kind, Doris. You are going
off your head as usual. I will wait until Rose returns and
we can question her together. If she has not taken the ring
for her own purposes she ought to be able to give us a
pretty good idea of where it is. I will sit down here and
wait. If you have duties to perform this early in the morn-
ing do not let me interrupt you. How soon do you expect
Rose in?”

“T do not know where Rose has gone nor when she will
return, and I have an engagement at once to take my step-
mother to look at a house. If you trust me as you say
you do you can go away and wait until I can have time
to find the ring and return it to you. If you do not I will
give you a check. In any case I must go at once. I see
that my car is already at the door!”

Doris was cold and haughty. She laid the ring down on
the rim of Milton’s hat, and walked out of the room. She
was more angry than she ever remembered to have been
before. And this was the man she had once expected to
marry!

“But Doris!’ His voice pursued her to the hall. “This
is not a matter to be treated lightly. In the interest of
justice this should be reported to the police at once. If
you do not do something about it now I shall be obliged to
see a detective immediately.”JOB’S NIECE 265

“By all means do your duty!” said Doris steadily. “Have
us all arrested if you think that is the right thing to do.
But don’t expect me to respect you for it!”

And with that she walked up the stairs.

Milton stood still and watched her. Presently he went
and sat down in a big chair by the window. He decided
that he would wait until Rose returned. He felt sure there
was something crooked here and he delighted to find out
the crook. If Doris would not do anything in the matter
it clearly devolved upon him to do it. So he sat in the
shadow and watched out the window.

Ten minutes passed. He heard voices upstairs, quiet
voices, and steps coming down the back stairs. Presently
Mrs. Dunbar came out heavily veiled and went into the
street with a furtive air. She had just told Doris that she
could not possibly go and see a house that morning, that
she had remembered an important business appointment and
must go and attend to it.

Doris in dismay decided to take Chloe Whitely anyway
and carry out the plan of beginning to clean. Chloe was per-
fectly capable and trustworthy. She could leave her there
to work, and return later in the afternoon to bring her
back. At least this was an excuse to get away from Milton
until Rose returned and till she should have an opportunity
to get hold of Jean and question her more closely concerning
the place where she had put the ring when Milton first gave
it to her. It was all very puzzling anyway. Where could
that ring have gone? And what ring was this? Was it
possible that the nurse—? But no! The doctor said he
had known her for years, and she looked the picture of
integrity. It was unthinkable that she had touched the ring.
Could Florence possibly have hidden it for spite? That
seemed more plausible. When Rose came back they would
search her room together. But now she would go out266 JOB’S NIECE

 

with Chloe just to get Milton away from the house.

So Doris went out with brooms and mops and a roll af
rags in a scrub bucket, and drove otf in her car. And there
sat Milton silently watching, listening, and only the sound
of the querulous invalid calling for something now and
then, or the occasional rubber thud of the nurse’s tread,
was heard overhead. Zephyr, having read a novel far into
the night and finished a box of chocolates, was sleeping
far into the day and had not yet appeared on the scene.

It must have been an hour that Milton sat persistently in
that chair by the window taking note of every passer-by
and every sound that went through the house, when sud-
denly he became aware of another presence in the room,
and looking around startled he beheld a vision such as he
had never seen before. A vision of golden hair and sea-
blue eyes staring blandly between dark curling lashes; a
vision of a cherry mouth wearing a smile of inspection, and
cheeks that rivalled the roses; a vision in a shimmering
negligee of palest orchid chiffon, diaphanous and dreamy,
with lovely white arms moving gracefully, languorously, and
white, bare ankles thrust into dainty gold slippers. She
looked like some forbidden fruit, startling and luscious, and
Milton Page turned his cold eyes away in horror. This
in a respectable home! How did it get here?

“Are you another of them?” asked Zephyr impishly in
her most daring voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of
you. What makes you have such a long face? You look
like a horse!”

“Indeed!” said Milton rising haughtily. “And who are
you, may I ask? I don’t think I have ever been favored
with your name?”

“Probably not,” laughed Zephyr mockingly. ‘The family
are ashamed of me. I’m Ned’s wife. I dance at The
Grand.”JOB’S NIECE 267

“Oh! I see!” said Milton dryly, turning a cold shoulder
toward the girl and looking earnestly out of the window
again as if he were not interested. “Well, as I’m not one
of the immediate family, don’t you think you had better go
and get more suitably dressed? I should think the family
would have cause to be ashamed of you if you go around
looking like that!”

Zephyr eyed his back for a moment amusedly, then with
a comical face she remarked sweetly:

“Oh, you’re what they call Victorian, aren’t you? I didn’t
know there were any of those alive now. Aren’t you an
awful pain in the neck? You look so. Wouldn’t it cheer
you up to see me dance? Look!”

Zephyr gave a peculiar little fling out with one foot and
set herself awhirling on the tip of one toe, until she was
like a bit of thistledown in the sunshine, smooth golden
head, pink face, staring baby-blue eyes, white arms and
flashing, white, slim ankles, amid soft fluttering folds of
orchid gossamer, all in a whirl on the dainty golden slippers.

Milton Page gazed in horror and disapproval for a full
second, seeming unable to turn his eyes away. Then coldly
he turned his back upon her and stared deliberately out of
the window again, till with a final grimace she whirled away
on her golden toes in search of coffee and rolls.

Milton stood there with wave after wave of furious
emotion marching over his irate soul. He stood, almost
trembling, realizing that all his theories were unable to
serve him adequately in a time like this, and that he was
being swayed against his will, swayed, defied, laughed at!
It was unforgivable!

He did not hear Rose come in sometime later. He had
not seen her face in the street as she arrived. All the
people passing were mere blurs while he tried to think how
this family on whom he had relied so thoroughly, with whom268 JOB’S NIECE

he had almost allied himself, had suddenly failed him in
every way and proved to be worse than worthless. It was
not surprising of course that Ned would marry that sort
of a girl. But it was beyond belief that Doris would harbor
her in the house even for an hour.

Rose had spied him at the window and had hurried around
to the back door and up the back stairs. She had made a
hasty reconnoitre and found that both Doris and Florence
were missing, so she smoothed her hair and went boldly
down to discover how the land lay. There were times when
Rose could be sweetly brazen.

She entered the living-room airily innocent. She bore
no trace of the humiliation wherewith she had brought back
her peace of mind. She came in breezily asking for Doris.

é

“Your sister has—” he paused, “gone out,” he finished
as if he could think of no word adequate to express what
Doris had done.

“Oh!” said Rose, a bit confused. “Why, I wonder!
Didn’t she know that you were here?”

Milton Page swung around from the window and faced
her challengingly.

“Sit down, Rose!’ he ordered. He had always spoken to
Doris’ brothers and sisters as if they were somehow under
his control and very young. Rose had generally resented his
tone. She paused now, and hesitated by a chair, but she
did not sit down.

“You want to see me?” she asked brightly.

“Yes. I want to see you, Rose.” He fixed her with his
cold eye, but Rose smiled pleasantly.

“Where did you find Doris’ ring, Rose?”

“Ring?” said Rose composedly. “Oh, Jean had taken it
up to Doris’ bureau, and Doris was so upset with Ned’s
sickness that she hadn’t noticed it. We had all been too
busy to think about anything.”JOB’S NIECE 269

 

“Yes, I have been informed of that fact!’’ announced the
cold, hard voice. “What I wish to know is where did you
find it? That is, where did you find the ring which you
gave to Doris and which she without looking at gave to me?
Please be exact and answer my question. You will under-
stand that I am fully aware that the ring which you gave
to Doris was not her ring at all, but a cheap affair that
might have come in a prize package of candy.”

“What?” said Rose with a puzzled expression. ‘What
can you mean?”

“T mean what I say. I wish to know what you have done
with Doris’ ring, and where you got the one which you gave
her in its place?”

“Really!” said Rose with a toss of her front lock. “I
don’t think you'll find out much from me about anything
as long as you take that tone and insinuate such outrageous
things.”

“Tm not insinuating anything. I’m merely stating facts
and asking a question,” stated Milton. “How do you ex-
plain this ring?” and he handed her the ring which Doris
had left lying on the brim of his hat.

Rose gave it a glance and began to laugh.

“Explain it,” she said. “Why, this way! Doris and I
have been moving in together to make room for a new
sister-in-law that Ned has brought home. This is some old
trinket that has been left lying around and Doris in her
hurry got the wrong ring to give you. Wait, I'll go up and
see if I can’t find the other ring. I’m sure it’s on her pin-
cushion right where I put it when I found it.”

She ran upstairs lightly, and was back in a moment with
the ring, triumphantly holding it out to him.

“There it is!’ she said haughtily. ‘Look at the initials
inside if you don’t believe me!”

Milton took the ring as if he saw a ghost. He ex-270 JOB’S NIECE

amined it carefully inside and out, turned it this way and
that to catch the light, and his eyes seemed to gloat over the
color and lustre. Then he looked up at Rose, and his glance
hardened. He cleared his throat. He seemed unable to
get the words to express himself.

“You! You! You!—” he began.

“Yes, I found it,’ said Rose airily. “It was there on
the pincushion right where I thought it was. You must
excuse Doris. She has had so many burdens to bear. She
is all upset, with Ned’s illness, and his wife and everything.
It was all so unexpected. Now, if you will excuse me, I
must go and order the marketing.’”’ And Rose walked out
and left him alone with the ring.

An hour later when she came back tiptoeing cautiously
along the hall, and peeped carefully in at the crack of the
living-room door, the room was empty. Milton and his ring
had departed. But Rose stood a long time looking soberly
out of the kitchen window, starting at every sound she
heard, hoping it was not Doris, and wondering what she was
going to tell her sister about the ring. For it was certain
now that she could not tell her the truth. The thing had
become most complicated. Still, Milton had the right ring
at last, which was a comfort.

But Florence had not even that comfort.

In terrible trepidation she had put on her street things
and hurried away to Hamilton’s office, her heart throbbing
wildly. It seemed her only hope now, and she could scarcely
keep back the tears as she journeyed along in the trolley
car, for she no longer had the price of a taxicab.

She had to wait almost an hour in Mr. Hamilton’s office
for he was in conference when she arrived and could not
be disturbed, and when she finally reached his presence
she was so distraught and incoherent that he could scarcely
find out what was her errand Gently he soothed her, andJOB’S NIECE 271

besought her to tell him her troubles, and at last, between
subdued little sobs, she got it out.

“I’m so ashamed, Mr. Hamilton, to have to ask, when
you’ve been so kind, but I must have some money! I really
must. An article of value that is very dear to me is in the
pawn shop. I placed it there when I expected to have
plenty wherewith to redeem it, but now the time is up and
I shall lose it forever if I am unable to redeem it before
evening.”

“Oh, is that all!’ said the lawyer relieved. “Of course
I'll attend to it at once. Just give me your pawn ticket and
I’ll have the office boy run down and bring it back. You
can wait here till he comes.”

“No, Mr. Hamilton,” said the widow in alarm. “That is
most kind of you of course, but I’m sure the man will not
let anybody but myself have it. In fact I have made that
arrangement. You see I have been trying for a week to
get the money together. i sold several other things that
were worth a little, and still I have not got quite enough.
You see, it was most unfortunate. I lost my pocketbook
containing the pawn ticket, and the owner of the shop re-
fused to let me have my property without the ticket. I have
searched everywhere, and even advertised, but with no
results, and now he has finally agreed to let me have my
property for the sum of one hundred dollars, and I have
signed an agreement that I will bring the money before four
o’clock this afternoon, or else give up all claim to it.”

“But my dear lady, you should never put yourself in the
hands of these sharpers. You should have asked me to
look after the matter for you a

“Yes, I know now,” sighed Florence. “You are so kind,
but you see I’ve always been of such a confiding and trust-
ful nature. It never occurred to me that the man would
take advantage of a poor woman all alone.”272, JOB’S NIECE

Hamilton wanted to go with her to the shop, but she
finally shook him off, and went her triumphant way with
one hundred dollars in new crisp ten-dollar bills folded
neatly inside her silk hand-bag, and gripped like a vise to
her heart.

When she wended her devious way at last to the shop =
which she had fairly haunted for the last few days, it was
only to be told that the ring was no longer in the man’s
possession.

“De odder lady come got it,” he said looking at her
stupidly. “Bout a hour ago! She got it!”

“But you promised me you would not sell it until after
four o’clock. It is not two o'clock yet. I signed an agree-
ment and I have the money here, one hundred dollars!” the
widow shrilly pleaded.

“Yes, but de odder lady she pay two hundred fifty tollars.
I couldn’t affort to keeb my bromise.”

That ended it. No amount of pleading or reproaches
had any effect on the stolid keeper of the shop. The ring
was gone. He had his money. He did not know the name
of the lady that came after the ring. She had mentioned
the police. That was enough for him.

“T will get a policeman, too,” threatened Florence in her
frenzied tone, high and shrill.

“You have only got a hundred tollars, matam. You
can’t do nodding mit de bolice!” He blinked at her from
behind his great goggles and Florence, never famed for her
logic, stumbled blindly out into the street and began to
wander, where she knew not.

She sat in the park a long time trying to think a way out
of her misery, and finally as the shadows grew long on the
grass she got up, stiff with weariness and cold, blind with
her fancied troubles, and the weight of a conscience newlyJOB’S NIECE 272

roused by fear, and stumbled on, toward the centre of
the city, with only a vague idea of where she was going.
She had decided to try and find a position and leave the
children forever. They would be glad, she was sure, and
she would not have to answer questions.

But she pitied herself so violently that the tears kept
streaming down her cheeks and mingling with the darkness
caused by her thick veil, so that her vision was anything
but clear, and more than once she held up traffic while she
made an uncertain way across a street, piloted by an im-
patient policeman.

Abcut six o’clock, John, pedalling away on his bicycle,
threading among the evening traffic in a marvellous manner,
narrowly escaping death from moment to moment, and
whistling on his unconcerned way, came suddenly upon a
denser crowd than usual, and finding it impenetrable, dis-
mounted to find out the cause.

A traffic cop was shouting loud things to a truck driver,
and admonishing the crowd to keep back. John forthwith
came forward to see why, and worming his way between men
and women, caught a glimpse of a little huddled figure in
black lying still upon the ground, a small black silk bag
clutched tight in a small gloved hand. It was the peculiar
clasp of the bag that caught his attention in his brief glimpse.
A lion’s head in brass, with green glass eyes. He had been
kept home from a circus once for fooling with a clasp like
that, trying to pry out the eyes. There might be two bags
like that in the world,—but !

Someone drew back the veil and John caught a glimpse
of a white face.

“Aw Gee!” he breathed under his breath, “4w Gee!’

He waited until the ambulance came, and then he sidled

up to the policeman:
18-

274 JOB’S NIECE

“Say, where they gonta take ’er?”

“S’maritan!” muttered the policeman, waving his hand at
an automobile that was trying to sneak by signals.

John mounted his bicycle and rode at the tail of the

ambulance.

John arrived home very late for dinner.

Doris, weary and hectored, was beginning to worry about
him.

“John, when you have to stay late at the store I wish
you'd telephone,” said Doris, almost crossly.

“I didn’t have to stay late,’ said John sitting down at his
place before the steaming plate of stew which Rose placed
there. “I ran into an accident!”

“Well, eat your dinner and don’t talk now,” said Rose
snappishly. “I want to get washed up.”

John filled his mouth with stew, and then looked up at
Doris.

“I thought you’d wantta know,” he managed between
chews. ‘“Flarnce is in the S’maritan hospital! Thought you
might wantta send ’er some flowers!”

“What!” exclaimed both girls in consternation. “Florence
in the hospital! How do you know?”

“Took her there!’ said John helping himself to butter and
spreading it a quarter of an inch thick on his bread. “Got
any jelly? Gee, I’m holla!”

“John! Stop eating and tell us what happened! Quick!”
demanded Rose shaking his shoulder impatiently.

“Well, ya told me to eat first!” growled John. “I was
gonta tell ya. Why, ya see Flarnce musta got all tangled up
in traffic, and she got in the way of a truck driver. He was
half-stewed I guess anyhow, an’ he ran ’er down, an’ she’s
got a busted leg, an’ a fractured arm, an’ her face all messed
up. Oh, she ain’t dangerous ef that’s what ya mean. She'll
pull through, the doc said. But she’s gotta stay there awhile.JOB’S NIECE

Good thing to have her safe awhile till things get clearer here,
I think. She had most a hundred dollars in her bag so I let
her have a private room, an’ I guess she’ll be happy. Any-
how we don’t havta have another nurse around waitin’ on
her! An’ if you ast me, J say it’s providential !”CHAPTER XXII

Doris wondered as she took her weary way to the hospital,
how she was ever going to bear the added responsibility and
anxiety of a new catastrophe. It seemed that her cup was
more than full; dark cloud above dark cloud, piled higher
and higher. Was there ever coming a rift in the darkness?

Mrs. Dunbar was slightly under the effects of an opiate,
and suffering comparatively little pain. She seemed pleas-
antly aware of her prominence, and almost pleased at the
attention bestowed upon her.

“T almost believe she is glad she got hurt!” said Doris to
Rose when at last she reached home and laid aside her hat
and coat. “Oh dear! I’m so tired I don’t know but Td

1 J +

be glad to lie down and be sick awhile too

!’ and she cast
herself down on the bed with a sudden rush of tears, a
thing that was so unusual for Doris that Rose was appalled.

=4
Pe ot

“Now, Dorrie, don’t you give up or I can't stand ! sh

o

cried out in dismay, and the sharp appeal of anguish in her
me reached Doris and brought her up smiling through her

“TI won’t Rose,” she said dashing away the bright drops
from her eyes. “It’s only that I’m dog-tired and can’t see
the way al

“Well, perhaps that’s just as well,’ mused Rose. “If
we could always see ahead and know what was going to

happen we wouldn’t be able to go on. If anybody had told

ead.”

ne two weeks ago that my father was going to die, my
brother marry a fool, my stepmother break her leg, and our

oe

276JOB’S NIECE 377

money take wings and fly away, I think I should have just
given up. I don’t know how I shall go on. I just can’t
make things come right no matter how much I try.”

“Poor little girl!” soothed Doris. “I shouldn’t have given
way. It must be wretched for you, just coming into a good
time in life to have things break down around you this way.
But cheer up, dearie. It won’t always be so. I’m just cer-
tain there will come a bright place later on. You know rain
never lasts forever.”

“Oh, well,” said Rose recklessly, “I don’t care. What's
life any way but a rotten old experiment? You just have
to dash in and get what you can out of it or you get left
behind.”

“There are worse places than behind, sometimes, dear.
Now, forget it and go to sleep. We are going to have a
good time to-morrow getting ready to move. Let’s make a
game out of it. I think it will be real fun. Chloe has the
living-room and dining-room all cleaned, windows and all.
If we like we can begin to pick out things that are to go and
send up a load ina day or so. The quicker the better.”

Rose murmured some careless reply and turned over, clos-
ing her eyes, but it was long before sleep visited her. Her
conscience was at work. Had she been justified in the prom-
ises she had given in order to get that money for the ring?
Probably Doris would not approve, but Doris would never
need to know. She must get some money together at once
somehow to repay the loan she had asked, and then she would
no longer be under obligation. Oh, if she only knew some-
body who would let her have it for to-morrow! She was tor-
tured with the look that had accompanied the ready reply to
her request. She hated the eyes that had been upon her.
She spent hours calculating how many weeks she would have
to work in the movies at five dollars a day before she could
repay that money. Five times six were thirty, and some-278 JOB’S NIECE

times they might want her to work Sundays, but she would
never do that, not even to get her debt paid sooner. Be-
sides she couldn’t for Doris would find out—and then her
brain would whirl back to the beginning again and she would
toss and turn and berate herself for being so foolish. As if
she was to be tied down for the rest of her life to going
with people her father had approved. Daddy didn’t like
her to go with Colonel Carruthers just because he was a few
years older than she was. But what difference did that make
for an evening’s frolic? She could take care of herself
anyway. If Colonel Carruthers was willing to be kind to
her and show her a good time and help her in an extremity
she ought to be glad to return his kindness by giving him
a pleasant evening. Of course he flattered her, saying all
that stuff about how beautiful her eyes were, and her lovely
smile. That was rot, and she didn’t care for it. But he
was nice to her and bought grand chocolates, the most
expensive kind, and was always ready to take her wher-
ever she wanted to go. Of course she had never been with
him but twice before, and then Daddy had found out and
forbidden it. But if Daddy knew now how she simply had
to go to him to borrow that money to redeem Doris’ ring.
Surely Daddy wouldn’t mind. And anyhow, she was her
own mistress now and must do what she thought right. But
if only that horrid little pawn-broker hadn’t been such a pig
and asked all that money! And then she wept softly into
her pillow and so at last fell into an uneasy sleep.

The days that followed were strenuous.

Everything seemed to fall upon Doris to decide. Rose
got the meals, and worked feverishly in the kitchen, but she
was crabby and nervous, and seemed to take no interest in
preparing the new home. Doris, if she had not been too
busy to give up, would have almost despaired at the way the
whole matter fell upon her shoulders.JOB’S NIECE 279

She must decide what furniture to sell and what to
keep, what to store in the old barn at Silver Ledge, and
what to set up for daily use. She must see a car-
penter and arrange for various repairs to be made.
She must wheedle the movers into taking a load late every
day after their regular day’s work was over, so that she
could send a little at a time and put it in order before
the coming of more. She must stand between the two
nurses and Zephyr when there arose any question, and she
must wait on and bear the brazen impudence of her new
sister-in-law. She must go in to smile at Ned as if every-
thing was pleasant as a May morning, and she must visit
Florence every day at the hospital, taking her flowers and
dainties which there was no money to buy and no time to
prepare. She must even take time occasionally to read to
her, for Rose flatly declined to do so, and she must look
after John and Jean in the intervals. There was little time
left for her to think about her new job. Indeed, two or
three times she wondered if she would not be obliged to
return that three hundred dollars advance salary and give
up the job. How was she to get time to amuse Mrs. Mac-
donald with all she had on hand? How could she honest-
ly receive money for work to which it was impossible
under the circumstances to give a moment’s prepara-
tion?

Then there would come the alarm of the thought, what
could she do without that salary? How could they go on
at all if she gave it up?

The days passed, and still she did not receive final word
from Macdonald of the date of his going.

At last one morning it came. A long fat envelope with
all the papers and final directions. She put it aside until
she should go to the house later and could read it at her
leisure. But a little note written in a quaint elderly hand280 JOB’S NIECE

and bearing a crest in silver on its heavy, gray envelop, she
opened with a passing wonder.

It was from Angus Macdonald’s mother, and it stated that
the next evening was to be Angus’ last dinner at home
before his starting. Would she be so good as to eat it with
them? It would give great pleasure both to Angus and
herself. She was asking her as a little surprise for Angus.
The car would call for her at half past four if quite con-
venient.

Doris felt a thrill of something—she thought it must be
pride perhaps—she could not quite name it; and then a wave
of almost shame. This dear old lady was taking her for
something that she was not. It was not right to let her go
on thinking that she and Macdonald were more than
strangers. And yet, this was just the attitude he wanted her
to take in order to carry out his beautiful wish to give his
nother pleasant companionship. It was a curious situation,
where right seemed on both sides. What was she to do?
Under her contract there was nothing for her to do but
go ahead and accept this invitation. Doubtless the son had
been working things around for this very thing, and yet
she could not ask him for the mother said it was to be a
surprise.

Well, what harm could possibly come after all? The
son was going away. She would try to get the mother in-
terested and happy and make her forget that she thought
her a friend of her son’s. If worst came to worst she could
even tell her the whole arrangement, if that ever seemed
necessary. She must not forget to make that stipulation
to the son, that if it ever came to a matter of telling the strict
truth she was to be allowed to reveal the plot.

And so Doris dropped everything and went to dinner
at the Macdonalds’ and the coast was unexpectedly clear
for Rose to carry out her promise to Colonel CarruthersJOB’S NIECE 281

without fear of being detected. Of course she would be
safely at home long before Doris arrived.

That dinner was like a little bit of heaven to weary, soul-
tried Doris.

It was a simple meal, perfectly cooked and perfectly
served, and the pleasant conversation made the girl forget
that this was not just a friendly visit. She seemed among
people whom she had known and loved a long time. Her
eyes shone, and her cheeks glowed as they talked of all sorts
of things out in the world where she had always longed to
go. Scotland! What a charm the word had on the lips of
the sweet patrician old lady. She could fairly see grim
castle walls, and the billowing of the heather on the hillside!
Little tales of Mrs. Macdonald’s childhood in the old coun-
try! Tales of Angus’ boyhood, and the tricks he used to
play. Glimpses of the Scottish home of long ago where the
father was the head of the household and the children feared
with love and obeyed eagerly. Where “the big ha’ Bible”
came down every morning and evening and was read before
them all, and then they knelt and prayed to a God they both
loved and feared. Glimpses of the more modern American
home where the father was still held in sweet and loving
awe, and the Bible still had its place in the morning and
evening. Not forced into the conversation, these things were
merely incidental, but giving a background that Doris had
never known.

And Angus Macdonald was a product of such upbring-
ing! She found herself watching him and wondering what
Ned and Rose would have been if they could have had such
an environment. Poor Ned, with his coarse, pretty wife
and his uncertain future! Poor Rose with her beautiful face
and her eagerness for life, her hatred of the drab future
that seemed now spread out for her!

And then she found herself shuddering to think what282 JOB’S NIECE

these people would think of her if they knew she had a
sister-in-law like Zephyr. She made an inward resolve that
she would keep her family entirely out of this relation.
This was merely her business. It should be as separate
from her home as a man’s office usually was. Then per-
haps there would be no harm about keeping her mortifica-
tions a secret.

Neither was the dinner-table lacking in merriment. Both
Angus and his mother proved to have a keen sense of humor,
and the conversation scintillated with bright stories and
ready wit. Doris was delighted to find that her host and
hostess could laugh over the things that seemed funny to
her. She was at her very best, describing amusing incidents
at college, retailing a grotesque conversation between a
huckster and a lady of the back street, turning quaint little
similes and sentences for which she had a trick, and in short
being her sweet simple self.

She did not talk of herself or her family. She might have
been utterly alone in the world for all this mother and son
heard from her lips, yet she entered into their conversation
as if she had known them always and fitted right into
everything. More and more as the young man watched her
he felt that he had done well in selecting for his purpose this
one choice girl out of the multitude that had answered his
advertisement,

And when it came time for Doris to leave, Angus Mac-
donald arose and declared his intention of driving her home.

3ut Doris protested.

“You must not think of doing that,’ she declared. “I
can perfectly well go back with the chauffeur, and you
should stay with your mother this last evening. She will
want you.”

There was quick appreciation in the glance the mother
gave her, and her heart warmed at the look the mother andJOB’S NIECE

 

283

son gave one another, a long lingering clinging smile of
understanding.

“Oh, Mother and I have a date together Jater,” he ex-
plained. “We shall keep vigil all night to-night, I think.
Did you ever happen to read the life of David Livingstone,
how he and his mother sat up through the night before he
left for the University? It’s something like that, you see.
An old family custom with us. I don’t know if it’s common
in Scotland generally, but Mother and I keep it. You are
not robbing her of her due! Besides, I have left a package
at the office that should go in my trunk to-night, so don’t
feel that I am placing you under too great obligation.”

The smile that passed between the mother and son was like
that of lovers. Doris felt almost that she must lower her
eyes, as if she had intruded unawares into a holy of holies.

Then the mother :

“Yes, go, Angus, and take the child safely home. I don’t
like the idea of sending her off with just a chauffeur. Now,
dear, you'll come soon to see me, won’t you? I shall be very
lonely without my boy, you know, especially just at first.
Come very soon, please. J want you.”

“T certainly will!’ said Doris earnestly, trying to keep the
eagerness from showing too plainly in her voice, for in spite
of herself this seemed a personal pleasure come to her, and
not a business arrangement at all.

The way home was a pleasure too. They talked like in-
timate friends now, and he told her of places he expected to
visit, and gave her a little idea of what his work would be
abroad. It was as if he had opened a door into the rooms
where he lived, where before she had only entered a sort
of antechamber of his house.

To tell the truth, Angus MacDonald had carried about
with him all day a note from Tamar Engadine bidding him
come to her that evening.JOB’S NIECE

 

284

There was a sense in which he felt great triumph that
Tamar had stooped to summon him. Not since the night he
left her at the road-house had he been near her or had com-
munication with her. She had waited for him to return.
She had been sure he would. They always did. It was her
method to wait and be indifferent. It was most maddening.

And it would have brought him finally, Angus himself
knew that. If he had been going to remain in his own coun-
try and pursue the usual tenor of his way, he could not have
kept away from her long. The old lure would have reas-
serted itself. And so it was a triumph that she had stooped
to call him. He could not help but feel exultant over it.
The girl of flame whom other men had to beg for her favor.
The very fragrance of her stationery as it rustled in his
pocket brought a vision of her loveliness, her daring; her
youth, that so easily excused her daring, so easily covered
the things he did not admire. Sometimes he suspected in the
back of his mind that Tamar Engadine was the very em-
bodiment of the world, the flesh and the devil, which he had
been taught to fear and avoid; yet always he had been
haunted with the thought, why, oh, why might not he be the
one who was heaven-appointed to win her back to all things
good and beautiful and womanly? So now at the call of
her note the temptation had been thrilling through him at
intervals all day, till against his better judgment he had fi-
nally agreed with himself to go and say good-by to her. He
would not stay but an hour, but he would have that to re-
member, wherewith to compare her on his return. It was
his right and hers, after the winter.

So he had brought Doris down to her home. She served
as a pleasant screen to keep the knowledge of his intention
from his mother. His conscience pricked him sharply at his
mother’s loving look and ready sacrifice of these last precious
hours together. But all the way down to the city he was de-JOB’S NIECE 285

bating with himself, beginning to know that this call to
Tamar was his weakness not his strength; that he was not
being true to the best that was in him to answer it. It was
true that this night belonged to his mother and must not
be tarnished or discounted by any touch with a world that
was alien to his mother’s standards. He knew that if he
went he could not look his mother straight in the eyes again
before he left her, and he could not bear to leave her that
way.

Doris so far had been a pleasant part of the change that
was to come in his business life, but now as they rode along
together under the stars something in her called to finer,
higher things, and when he looked in her clear eyes at their
pleasant casual parting she seemed to be more than just
the fine girl he had hired to companion with his mother dur-
ing his absence. She seemed to represent something of wom-
anhood that was in his mother, a soul quality that lived for
eternal things and not for self. It seemed to flame like a
lamp and show him where his weakness would be.

So after all Angus Macdonald bade Doris Dunbar good-by,
almost reverently, and turned his car toward home. He
did not even remember the package that should have gone in
his trunk that night. He went back to the beautiful vigil
with his rare mother. He was not thinking of Doris Dun-
bar then, so much as of the fineness that she represented,
and the mother who was the embodiment of all that was fine
and high and far from the world, the flesh, and the devil.

But afterward he remembered Doris.

Doris was filled with a new kind of elation as she entered
her home. She had said good-by to Angus Macdonald for
an indefinite period, but she felt as if he had come into her
life permanently. He was like a strong influence, a deli-
cate perfume, sunshine, and air. Something impersonal
which yet was hers to breathe and enjoy. It was pleasant to286 JOB’S NIECE

think she was to be in his employ even though he was to be
far away. She hurried upstairs hoping that Rose was still
awake that she might tell her a little about the beautiful
home and the evening. Rose loved beautiful things and al-
ways enjoyed a joke or a bright saying.

But Rose was not in her room, and a whispered consulta-
tion with the nurse revealed that she had gone out soon af-
ter Doris had left.

Doris, worried, finally wakened Jean to inquire, but Jean
only knew that Rose had left a note asking her to serve the
dinner, saying that she would be back as soon as possible in
the evening, but not to wait up for her.

Doris went and sat at the front window a long time wait-
ing in the dark, her thoughts going back over the evening
with pleasant remembrance, and forward over what she
would do on her next visit, until the time slipped by without
her realization, and only the sharp striking of the hour, one
o’clock, roused her to alarm. Where could Rose be? Was
it possible she had gone into the movies after all, in spite
of her promise, and they had kept her working late? Did
movie people work at night? Her note to Jean had said
she had gone for “something important.” Poor impatient
Rose! What had she done now? How could she stay so
late and cause anxiety? And what ought she to do? At
this hour of the night whom could she call upon to help?
John was sound asleep and ought not to be waked on ac-
count of his work to-morrow. And what could he do any-
way? He was only a child. The police? Well, of course
young people of Rose’s age stayed out till one o’clock to
parties. The police would not think it strange. But she
would not know where to set them searching. Rose would
not have gone to a party so soon after her father’s death.
It was not like Rose to stay out and worry her. She must
have known everybody would be in by this time.JOB’S NIECE

The clock ticked on relentlessly and now and then a dark
figure hurried past the house, or a taxi shot by. Once a
cat shot across the street like a dark arrow and disappeared
in a doorway. Doris was in torture.

It was not until five minutes after two when Doris was
fairly frantic that a car drew up in front of the house and
Rose sprang out. She did not wait for ceremonies, though
a man got out evidently expecting to assist her. He came
up the steps to remonstrate, but the key was already turn-
ing in the latch, and Rose made short ceremony of good-
night.

“Oh Rose, where have you been? I’ve been so fright-
ened !’" said Doris appearing in the doorway.

“Mercy, aren’t you in bed yet?” snapped Rose, her nerves
evidently on edge. “I’m awfully sorry to have worried you.
We had a flat tire, and miles from anywhere! I’ve been in
torture to get home on your account of course but I couldn’t
doa thing! I just went out for a little ride.”

Rose’s eyes were averted. She was taking off her wrap
and hat and running her fingers wearily through her hair.
In the dim light from the upper hall her face looked flushed
and excited.

“A ride?” said Doris. “Oh! And go Jate! I have
thought of everything but that. Who did you go with, Anne
Dryden’s crowd ?”

“Oh, a bunch! No, Anne wasn’t along— Is there any
coffee? I’ve got a splitting headache.”

“You ought not to drink coffee at this time of night.
Take a glass of milk. Ill get it for you. Who was the
man that brought you home? It didn’t look like Bert.”

“It wasn’t!” said Rose shortly. “He’s one of the new
ones. You wouldn’t know him. His name is Carruthers.
Eugene Carruthers.”

“Carruthers,” repeated Doris as she set down the glass288 JOB’S NIECE

of milk before Rose, “Where have I heard that name? It

”?

 

seems somehow associated with Father but

Rose looked up with uneasy glance:

“What kind of a time did you have? You look as glum
as an oyster.”

Doris told her a little of the evening, and then they went
on tiptoe up to bed, but long after Rose was sleeping by her
side Doris lay thinking, worrying about her young sister.
Somehow there had been an unhappy excited look in her eyes
that haunted her, and once Rose tossed her arms out over her
head with a self-protecting motion and cried out: “Don't!
I say! Don’t you touch me!”

After that it was almost dawn before Doris finally dropped
into an uneasy doze.

But in the morning there was no time to worry over
Rose. John was up and demanding his br sakfast. Jean’s
school dress was soiled and another one had to be ironed.
A telephone message from the hospital said that Mrs. Dun-
bar had passed a bad night and wanted Doris to bring a
certain book and come right up to read to her as soon as
possible after breakfast. The mover appeared at the door
and said he could take those heavy pieces for the parlor
right up this morning if they were ready at once, and the
nurse wanted Doris to sit with Ned while she went down-
town for something she needed and nobody else could select
to please her. It was a hurried time, and Doris planned to
go to Mrs. Macdonald that afternoon, and stop in the city
to get a certain book she had heard of that she thought
might interest her. It seemed as if everything came at once.

Zephyr, too, created a digression by calling up some of
her friends and asking them to lunch with her. Doris was
beside herself and Rose was furious.

“Tet her get her own lunch, then,” she said, “I’m not go-JOB’S NIECE 289

ing to. I'll go to Silver Ledge and clean all day, but I
won't cook for those slum friends of hers.”

“Why of course,” said Doris. “Let her get the lunch.
Just leave something that the nurse can eat, and tell her we
have to go out.”

“Oh, all right,” shrugged Zephyr, “I’ll order in some
things. Where do you have yer charge? Which caterer ?”

“We have no charges now,” said Doris soberly. “I’m
afraid you'll have to pay for what you want. There are five
dollars here on the sideboard. I guess that will have to do.”

“Leave it to me,” said Zephyr gaily, “I'll get ’em to
charge it.”

“But you mustn’t!””’ said Doris firmly. “Mr. Hamilton
has forbidden charging anything else. The estate is not
settled up yet and it makes trouble.”

“You should worry,” said Zephyr. “All right, where’s
the money °”

“But you mustn’t make a noise you know on Ned’s ac-
count.”

“Aw, rats!” said the wife charmingly. “You mustn’t
this, you must do that! No wonder Ned is sick! I’m al-
most sick myself!”

They heard her ordering pretzels and beer—root beer they
supposed it was—and a whole gallon of ice cream, and cakes
innumerable. Olives too, and salted almonds and mints.

“She'll never get all that for five dollars of course,” said
Rose. “I suppose I ought to have stayed at home and cooked
for her old company.”

“You couldn’t, Rose. She oughtn’t to have company now,
anyway, while Ned is so sick. I know the doctor will think
it is dreadful.”

“Perhaps he will send her away then. I wish he would.

Have we got to take her along with us when we move?”
19JOB’S NIECE

“TI suppose we have at least till Ned is well,” sighed Doris.

“I’m fixing the room up for them—the downstairs bedroom.

| I sounded out Florence and she said she wouldn't sleep there
for the world.”

“Well, if she’s going to stay I think I’ll find some way to
eet out,” declared Rose sullenly. “I’m about sick of this.
I don’t see where we come in at all.”

It was Rose’s parting word as she got into the trolley to
go to Silver Ledge. Doris took the trolley in the opposite
. direction for the hospital. Her car being at the garage for

some slight repair that she might have it by afternoon.

Doris had been late in getting off. It was almost twelve
when she reached the hospital. Florence was in tears and had
to be petted, babied, talked to like a little child, and finally
read to for an hour and a half before she would be pacified.
It was half past one when the nurse at home called the
hospital and asked if Doris was still there. Doris was
just leaving and went to the telephone in alarm. What had
happened now?

“Miss Dunbar, you better get home here quick! Them
friends of Miss Zephyr are carryin’ on high! They’ve got
a lot of liquor, an’ all of ’em’s drinking, men and girls, an’
smoking cigarettes, and howling like mad! They’ve smashed
four glasses and a plate already, and they sound as if they’d
just begun. If you say the word I'll call the perlice. I
never saw such doin’s in a decent household, and my patient
is nearly goin’ wild. There’s some man here that he hates,
and don’t want his wife to speak to, an’ she won't pay any
attention. I’ve sent fer the doctor but he’s away on a case

an’ dear knows when he'll get back. Can’t you come quick?”CHAPTER XXIII

Dorts had to think hard and fast as she hurried away from
the protesting Florence. In this new dilemma whom should
she call upon for help? There was no possibility that a howl-
ing mob under the influence of liquor would yield to her
request. The doctor was out of the question, and she shrank
from bringing Mr. Hamilton again into the matter. Be-
sides she knew that there was no way to reach him at this
hour as he always went out of his office from one till nearly
three.

Suddenly she recalled a former employee of her father’s
who was devoted to him because his family had been helped
at a time of calamity. He was now on the police force, and
would be glad to help her, if he were free at this hour.

She hailed a taxi and drove to the police station, and
wonder of wonders, found Thomas just coming off duty.
She recognized his broad back half a block down the street.

“Catch that policeman,” she said to the driver. “I want
to speak to him!” and in a moment more Thomas stood smil-
ing with his hat off before her.

“Thomas, can you take a few minutes to help me?” she
asked.

“Shure! ma’am, a few hours if necessary,” he responded
heartily.

“Well, get in quick and I’ll explain to you on the way.”

He obeyed with alacrity.

They could hear the revellers even while Doris was fitting
her key in the door. They were singing a riotous, rollick-

ing song, with voices that were thick and coarse. Doris
291292 JOB’S NIECE

shuddered as she swung the door open, and hesitated on the
threshold, but Thomas did not hesitate. He strode past her
on feet that could walk as silently as doom. He swung wide
the dining-room door, his badge at display, and stood his
tallest in the doorway looming grim and forbidding.

They did not hear him till he was among them, and a
sudden awful silence succeeded the ribald laughter. Zephyr
had been dancing. The table was shoved to one side of
the room, all in a huddle of bottles and plates of melted ice
cream, and Zephyr whirled in the middle of the room. But
she stopped as if frozen, her baby stare growing fixed and
china-like.

“Now, you fellers clare out!” Thomas’ voice was low and
clear but he spoke with a tone of authority that struck terror
to the revellers. With drunken defiance one slim fellow
sidled up to Thomas with a rude:

‘“What’r you doin’ here?”

Thomas took hold of his spindly shoulder with his great
hand and shook him as if he had been a sick kitten.

“Now, you git out of here!” he said and sent him hurling
with a great push toward the front door which was still
standing open. The girls looked frightened and stole away
to the other room to secure their hats and hand-bags. Two
of the men slid out to the kitchen, but Thomas with a swift
stride was at their heels and covering the men with his re-
volver:

“Here! You two. You're wantid at the station house!
Hands up! Now, stand right where yer are and don’t shtir!
Miss Doris, would ye mind phonin’ to the station house an’
askin’ thim to sind Pete with the car? Tell him Tom says
to bate it! And be still about it, too. This is two that was
wanted in that raid they had last wake in the tenth ward.”

And so the wagon of terror drew up before the Dunbar
door and Pete and Tom emerged presently with two cowedJOB’S NIECE 293

and furtive prisoners. But the rest of the guests had all
melted away like snow before the morning sun.

“You’d bist go lay down, Miss!” Thomas, as he departed,
had advised to the still staring Zephyr as she stood amid the
debris of her lunch party like an angry image.

She only stared.

But when Doris came in and looked about the dining-room
aghast Zephyr came alive, roused to fury.

“You'll pay for this, you sneak!” she hissed. “You said
you were going away! You just hung around to catch my
boy-friends. I'll see that you get what’s coming to you.
The whole gang’ll be down on you fer this!” and making
an evil face she fled upstairs.

Doris sat down amid the wreckage of the dining-room and
buried her face in her hands. It was not so much that
Zephyr had defied her, or that things were in a mess. It
was the terrible humiliation of belonging to a girl like that.
And her brother had done it!

By and by she roused herself and gathered up the broken
crockery, swept the floor and straightened the furniture.
Then she went upstairs and dressed all over again for her
visit to Mrs. Macdonald. Her heart was sick. How could
she go and face that beautiful old lady coming from a home
like this? It seemed as if she ought to confess that she was
unfit and give up the position.

But she was under obligation of course, and must go,
whether or no.

The nurse promised to see that Zephyr did no more damage
that afternoon.

“She'll sleep!” she said with a knowing nod.

So Doris went off as soon as her car was brought from
the garage, trying to summon a bright smile wherewith to
cheer a lonely mother.

Just as she was going out the door the postman handed herJOB’S NIECE

a single letter, and she saw with a little flutter of pleasure
that it was from Angus Macdonald. Probably some last
direction, something he had forgotten, but it madea diversion
from the tense strain under which she was living. Oh, if
Angus Macdonald knew, if he had known, what she came
from, what her brother was, what a wife he had, would he
ever have selected her to help his mother? His wonderful
mother! Doris tucked the letter in her pocket and got into
her car, her cheeks burning with shame at the remembrance
of the scene, just past, in the dining-room. It seemed to her
that her soul was smirched with it, and she would never
come clean again. What would their father have said to
know that such a thing could have happened in their house
a few short days after his death! Dear Father! He was
safe from it all! But what was before the rest of the
family all the long dreary days of a normal life? The out-
look seemed as black as an outlook could possibly be.

In the shade of a great group of maples Doris drew her
car to the side of the road and read her letter.

My dear Miss Dunbar, (it read)

It came to me on the way home last evening that I have never
told you how glad I am that you are you, and that you have been
willing to undertake my commission. It gives me pleasure to
feel that I have left my mother in such good hands, and I thank
you for having accepted the work. I trust it may prove not
altogether irksome to you, also.

With all good wishes,
Angus Macdonald.

It was as if someone had suddenly poured a cooling
liniment upon a burning wound. The courtesy of it, the
pleasant personal word! All that made the difference be-
tween labor and joyful work! And so unneccessary, so
absolutely kindly! It came upon her spirit with its healing
touch just when she was sore and humiliated by the sceneJOB’S NIECE

through which she had passed, and it lifted her beyond the
valley of depression where her soul had fallen helplessly,
and set her on the heights again, where she might exult in
spite of sordid things.

Now she could go on her mission with a free mind!

What a man he was to have done it. In all his hurry to
have taken the time! Not that it meant anything personal
of course, but it was so nice of him to let her know before
he left that he had confidence in her. It made her strong for
what she had to do.

She started her car with a quick joyous motion, and the
sunlight and gay spring atmosphere began to penetrate her
soul and put new life into her. She saw a thousand beau-
ties as she passed that had been locked from view behind
dull unseeing eyes before. She heard a lark in a meadow,
the lowing of a cow, the bleat of sheep, and noted the soft
blending of colors in the new foliage that had crept out
as it were overnight. Her thoughts bounded ahead to
plan her visit, and she forgot home and all her perplexities.
Somehow the humiliation of Zephyr and her companions
fell away like a soiled garment that was not hers, and she
knew herself to be not really bound by what anyone else,
even of her own family, did. She was herself, and accounta-
ble for her own character. She would be judged thereby.
The confidence that her employer had given had lifted her
above her fears and given her peace. And something she
did not understand, that made her glad, rang sweetly far
away in her consciousness: She did not even try to analyze
and name it. She rested in it and was glad.

Mrs. Macdonald was glad to see her. She knew it at
once by the light that sprang into her keen bright eyes. It
reminded her of the look in her son’s eyes.

She knew at once that the old lady had questioned whether
she would care to come now that her son was not to be there.JOB’S NIECE

She could see that she had been waited for almost anxiously,
and that there was a relieved joyous look on the old lady’s
face that filled her own heart with a new kind of ecstasy.
She was going to really love this old lady. It was almost as
if she had been handed over a mother of her own, she who
had not had a mother for so long.

They had a beautiful time together, first walking about the
garden, examining the budding things, and searching for the
shooting plants whose time of resurrection was come agait.
Then they went into the house and up in the great sunny
circular room that was the old lady’s special private boudoir.
There were seats built in under the windows and wide views
into the valley where the shrubbery had been cut away.
There was a bookcase full of special choice books, and there
were a few rare pictures on the walls, originals ; and one of
a castle in Scotland where Mrs. Macdonald had lived when
she was a child.

The time was almost gone before she realized that she was
not the one to be entertained, and that if she would make op-
portunity for a speedy return it was necessary to propose
something herself.

“What wonderful books you have!” she exclaimed look-
ing around panic-stricken for a chance to bring in some
suggestion, for she knew she must presently take her leave.
“I am hungry for books since I left college but it is so stupid
to study all alone! How I would love to read or study some-
thing with you! You are so widely read and have such
beautiful thoughts of your own about the books you read!”

Her cheeks reddened as she said it. She felt as if it
must be so obvious that she was trying to drag herself into
compamonship.

The older woman’s face brightened:

“Why, that would be charming!” she said. “What would
you want to study—or read?”JOB’S NIECE 297

“Oh anything!” said Doris eagerly. “Anything in which
you were interested! It would be wonderful for me.
Something to get my thoughts away from everyday per-
plexities and out of myself. I don’t want my mind to vege-
tate!” she laughed half nervously like a very young girl.
She felt she was managing this thing badly. She must be
appearing almost forward to have asked such a thing so
abruptly. It was not at all as she had planned it. She had
meant to wait a week or two at least before asking anything
so important.

“I think I should like it very much, my child,” said Mrs.
Macdonald thoughtfully. “TI really have been terribly lonely
since my husband left me. He and I used to read and study
together a great deal. Angus has been so busy lately, and
away so much. Had you anything in mind you wanted
to study? I may not be up to a modern college girl. We
are years apart you know, dear, and I’m afraid I might be
but a stupid companion.”

“Indeed! Never!” said Doris with sincerity. “I should
love to take up something that you are interested in. I’ve
never had—at least I scercely remember, my own mother.
It would be good to get an older person’s point of view.
Besides, you don’t seem old Vv

Mrs. Macdonald smiled tenderly.

“That’s very sweet of you, dear.”

“Then won’t you tell me what would most interest you?
Isn’t there some book—? Some special line of study?”

“Why yes—” said the Scotch woman pleasantly. “There
is, a very special book, an old book—but I could scarcely
hope that even so rare a girl as you would find interest
enough in it in this modern day of skepticism as to spend
time with an old woman studying it.”

“Oh, try me!” exclaimed Doris eagerly. It was going
to be so much easier if the old lady would choose her ownJOB’S NIECE

 

298

subject. Then she would feel free to say when she wearied
of it. Doris’ job was to keep Angus Macdonald’s mother
interested, not to please herself.

“Very well, child, if you say so. It’s just the ‘auld Buik’,”
she said, reverting to her childhood’s dialect, “‘the big ha’
Bible!’ ”

Doris’ eagerness went blank, though she managed to keep
a bright face. How was she to keep a woman amused read-
ing the Bible? Would she not grow gloomy and long-faced ?
And what would Angus Macdonald say when she reported
that the only study his mother would take up with her was
the Bible? Was that keeping her contract? Well, there
was nothing for it but to go ahead now. She had brought it
on herself of course. But perhaps it would serve at least
as an opening wedge, and she might be able to interest the
mother in brighter, more cheerful subjects a little later on
when their friendship had become better established.

All these thoughts flew swiftly through her mind while
she made haste to assure Mrs. Macdonald that nothing would
be more unusual and delightful than to look into so great a
book with a mind so wise as her new friend’s to guide her.

“Of course I studied it a little in college. Everyone had
to. But I didn’t really get hold of the beauty of it.” She
spoke as if it were merely a great literary treasure.

“Yes?” answered the gentle-voiced lady, studying the
girl’s face wistfully. “Well, we shall see how it turns out.
It is a book which must be studied in the right spirit, you
know, or its wonders are sealed. You cannot take it like
an ordinary book. You must have an open mind and a be-
lieving heart.”

There was something in the elder woman’s voice that
startled the girl, as if great wisdom hung somehow upon her
words. She could not get away from the feeling that she was
to be the one helped and led along, not the woman she wasJOB’S NIECE 299

there to amuse. Yet withal, she came away satisfied. She
had at least paved the way to be often with Mrs. Macdonald,
which had been the first step outlined by her son in order
to fulfill his wishes.

An hour later, after promising to come to the great house
on the hill sometime the next day and plan out their course
of study, she drove swiftly away in the dusk to get Rose,
for she had promised to take her home. Poor Rose! What
would she think of her, coming so late? And how many
things she had to tell her! Rose! What should she do
about unhappy impatient beautiful Rose?

Rose was sitting on the front stoop in the gloaming,
watching impatiently, resolved to take the next trolley home
if Doris did not arrive before it did, and she climbed in be-
side her sister with relief.

“Well, I should say you made a day of it, Doris. What did
you think I’d do in the dark all alone? I’m starved too, and
I hadn’t money enough to get any thing to eat. I only had
car fare and didn’t dare spend it for anything to eat, lest
you wouldn’t come.”

“You poor kid!” said Doris contritely. “But I really
couldn’t help it. If the telephone had only been finished I
might have let you know. I was delayed beyond anything.
You don’t know. Listen!’”’ and Doris retailed the story of
Zephyr’s doings and the grand finale, while Rose sat aghast
with sober face. When the story was over she exclaimed
earnestly :

“I say, I don’t think it’s fair! You so patient and good
and giving up everything for us all, your diamond ring, and
getting married and all, and then having to bear all these
things! Doris, you must be Job’s niece or something! I
never heard of any one girl having to bear so much! You
better get out on the ash heap and hunt for a potsherd and

1"?

give us all up!300 JOB’S NIECE

“Why pick on me?” laughed Doris merrily. ‘“Aren’t we
all bearing it together? I’m no better than the rest of you.
You're all just as brave and dear as can be!”

“No, we aren’t!’”’ said Rose vehemently. “We're a mean
selfish lot, and you are just carrying us all along on your
shoulders. I’m the selfishest of the lot! Oh dear! I can’t
bear it for you!” and Rose unexpectedly broke down and
cried as if her heart would break.

‘Why Rose, dear!” said Doris in astonishment. “Don’t
take it to heart like that! I’m no more a relation of Job than
you are. Cheer up, and let’s get some fun out of it some-
how. Don’t let it beat us. I insist there is coming a bright
place somewhere, and somehow things are coming out. I
don’t know how I know it, but the other day when I was
so down I walked a long way off from houses and everything
and saw a storm coming with clouds as dark as night piled
up in awful threatening, and suddenly the sun burst through,
and I couldn’t help feeling— Oh, I don’t know how to talk
about such things. But I just know we are going to be
taken care of somehow. I feel it in my heart!”

“You're good!” said Rose. “I’m not. I don’t know as
I ever could be.”

The earnestness of her tone disturbed Doris, and reminded
her of other fears about this beautiful eager little sister, who
loved and hated so tremendously, and lived on impulse al-
ways. But they were drawing up to the door now and there
was no further time for talk, so she put away anything she
might have replied for a more convenient season and they
hurried in to get a much belated supper.

They found Zephyr still sleeping, and the nurse inclined
to be lenient with them about the lateness of the meal. She
was grimly proud of Doris and the summary way in which
she had handled the mob in the dining-room. She had evi-
dently told the story to John and Jean for they had clearedJOB’S NIECE

up the dining-room thoroughly and done their unskilled best
to help prepare a meal. There were potatoes baking in the
oven and John had opened numerous cans of vegetables and
fruits. The menu was varied and peculiar, but it made
things much easier for the two tired girls; and the children
stayed around afterwards and helped wipe dishes.

It was later, when the two sisters had gone to their room,
and were preparing to drop down on the bed and rest and
talk a few minutes, that the door-bell rang.

“T’ll go,” said Rose springing up. ‘“You’ve taken your
hair down. And I know you are tireder than I,” and she
sped swiftly away. But in two or three minutes she was back
again, with a grimace on her face. She had just let in
Milton Page.

“Well, you'll have to get up after all,” she said glumly.
“Bildad the Shuhite is down there!”

“Who?” said Doris with a puzzled frown. “I never heard
of him. What does he want?”

~Oh, sure you did!” said Rose. ‘You studied the great-
est dramatic poem in the world with Miss Mellon and the
lit class same as I did. Don’t you remember Bildad, one of
Job's three friends? He’s come to tell you why all this has
come upon you. He met Thomas and Thomas thought the
story was too good to keep and now Bildad has come to tell
you /why it happened to you. Hurry up and get your pot-
sherd and come down and let him have his little say. Then
we'll stand some chance of getting to bed to-night, but Doris,
don’t give in and let him think he’s right, for he isn’t! I'll
bet on you every time!”

“Oh, Rose! You'll kill me with your ridiculous nonsense!
I’m too tired to laugh! Go to bed and don’t wait for me.
I suppose this had to come some time, as well now as any
time! I hoped he was through!”

And Doris went downstairs with her most Jobine smile onJOB’S NIECE

her lips. She was thinking that she was glad that it did not
really matter to her any more what Milton Page thought
about anything that happened to her. There was someone
ereater than Milton Page looking after her affairs. She

did not know how she knew this or why, but just the trying
to tell Rose that evening had strengthened her faith.CHAPTER XXIV

AncGus Macponatp on shipboard in his leisure moments
found his thoughts straying to his home and especially to the
last few hours spent there. He found himself describing
things around him on the ship to the girl whom he had so
summarily called out of the unknown into his circle of ac-
quaintances. He thought of her now not as one who was in
his service, but as a friend, and one with a singularly true
and interesting personality. He could not help wondering
what she would say for instance if she were standing by his
side on deck watching the opal-tinted sea with the last re-
flection of the dying sunset upon its smooth surface. He
looked up to the stars later and remembered how they had
stopped the car in the pine grove and looked up at those same
stars a few nights before. And then he suddenly realized
that for a man who was not given to having much to do with
girls he was spending altogether too much thought on this
new acquaintance. It was natural of course that he should
try to fathom her character before he set her in so close and
intimate a relation to his mother, but that was done now and
the necessity passed. Let him put her aside as something
with which he had no more to do. She would do her work
and make her report and until he had to read it and pass
upon it he need not further consider her.

And then he thought of Tamar Engadine.

It occurred to him that he should write her a brief note
of apology for not appearing in answer to her call. He was
grimly glad that he had been strong enough to stay away.

Perhaps a bit vengefully glad too. He really must write
303204 JOB’S NIECE

that note at once so that it might be ready to go back on the
pilot boat.
But instead he sat down and wrote that note to Doris!
He felt almost sheepish about that. He went and put it
in the mail quickly to get it out of his mind. He knew that
if he thought it over he would consider it both foolish and
unnecessary and that he would not send it. So he mailed it.
Then he went back to his stateroom and wrote to Tamar.

My dear Miss Engadine :-—

Preparations for a sudden and important business trip made
it impossible for me to accept your kind invitation of last eve-
ning. I hope that your expectations of a pleasant occasion were
fully realized, and that someone more fortunate than I was able

to take any part I might have had.

I am sure you will pardon this hasty apology, for my time

is short, and believe me,
Very sincerely,
Angus Macdonald.

That too he mailed quickly, and went back to the stars
and his thoughts. His message to his mother had been
longer and written soon after he came on board.

Angus Macdonald did not quite understand himself, he
found that he was so much more interested in the home that
he was leaving than he had expected to be. He kept wonder-
ing if Doris Dunbar would be able to carry out her purpose
with his mother, and how her ingenuity would work in with
his mother’s quiet purpose to order her life serenely along
the lines she had always lived. Poor Mother! He knew
what a wrench it was for her to give him up for these months
of separation. He knew how hard it was for her reserved
Scotch nature to take in a stranger and yet how graciously
and charmingly she had taken in the girl whom he had
brought home! His conscience pricked him that he had de-
ceived her even so slightly, and unintentionally. It hadJOB’S NIECE

never entered his thought that she would take the girl for
more than a casual acquaintance when he first proposed to
bring her home; and it had served his purpose so well in
more ways than one that it seemed harmless. Now alone
with the sea and himself he had opportunity to look things in
the face as he had not done for months. And he began to
see plainly that Doris Dunbar and not Tamar Engadine was
the kind of girl that would fit in with his mother’s thought
of her son and his future.

Having reached this point in his mental process when he
was about three days out, he suddenly decided to turn his
entire attention to his work, and the plan of his procedure
which must be prepared from copious notes furnished by his
partners in many sessions of conference.

Meantime, back at home things were progressing
rapidly.

In the Dunbar household the movers suddenly appeared
on the scene one morning and announced that they could
“do” the house that day as someone else had gone back on
them and they wanted to fill in the time. Having that morn-
ing received a violent letter from the new owner of the
house demanding his property as soon as possible, Doris
decided to let them go ahead, reserving only Ned’s room
and a few necessary articles for the nurse’s comfort until
the doctor should give the word that Ned was able to be
moved.

Ned seemed to have reached a discouraging standstill
so far as recovery was concerned. Day after day he lay
white and still, and seldom moved or spoke or opened his
eyes unless compelled to do so. They had to urge him to
take nourishment, and only Zephyr in a gay mood could
move him to take interest in life.

But Zephyr was not in a gay mood. Since the incident of
the revelry she had been sullen and silent. Her baby stare

20JOB’S NIECE

 

306

was wide and unseeing, but now it had taken on a more in-
solent air. The stare of a neglected doll in the corner,
tragic because it cannot understand an unfriendly world, ar-
rogant in spite of being downtrodden.

Zephyr was not downtrodden. She had the best in the
house. If it was not offered to her she took it. If it was
not in sight she demanded it. But she was not in the
high spirits she had been when first she arrived. Her zeal
at nursing had soon departed, and she left Ned alone hour
after hour while she curled in a big chair in the living-room,
ate chocolates and read endless moving picture magazines.
She was let alone most severely by the family, who had
enough to do without paying attention to her, but they were
uniformly polite to her in all the simple everyday affairs of
living. The children kept entirely out of her way. It
was plain that she was ill at ease with Rose, who went on
her beautiful scornful way and would have none of her.
But Doris she hated, perhaps because she knew she was her
superior, and that never, no matter how hard she might try
nor how many times she might score against her, could
she hope to attain to the heights on which she moved.

It was becoming plainer every day that she did not really
love Ned, but had loved only the power she thought her
position as his wife would give her. It was plain that Ned
was breaking his heart over her coldness. If Doris had not
been so busy that she had no time to think about it, the
situation would have been most impossible. She could not
go to Zephyr and beseech that she be kinder to Ned. She
could not send Zephyr away because Ned wanted her so
much. And every day the time was drawing nearer when
the whole family must be transplanted to the country. And
what would Zephyr do then? How would they bear it to
live in still closer quarters with this uncongenial alien?
Would Ned have to go with her and her impossible mother ?JOB’S NIECE 307

Doris did not dare to think about it. When the time came
perhaps there would come light.

Meantime, Doris, in addition to moving her family, and
visiting her stepmother at the hospital, had also entered
upon an intensive study of the Book of books.

She had gone the very next day to see her new friend, hop-
ing that perhaps through the night new ideas might have come,
and that a more cheerful topic for study might be selected.
But instead she found Mrs. Macdonald alert and interested,
her eyes bright and happy. She had been thinking, she said.
She had a plan. She hoped Doris would be willing to co-
operate with her. Doris would, of course. That was what
she was there for, and for the old lady to take the initiative
was even more than either she or the son who had put her
there had been able to hope might come, at least so soon.

“There is a Bible School in the city. This is a leaflet
that they publish every month,” said the old lady handing her
a small paper. “I have for years been contributing money
to the work, and I have been reading this pamphlet. There
are some very striking articles in it by members of the fac-
ulty of this school. I would like you to visit that school
for say two or three days, and go from class to class, at least
if you can spare that time. J don’t know how busy you are.
Perhaps I may be presuming?”

Doris assured her that she would be glad to take as much
time as was necessary to serve her friend’s wishes,

“Well, then, I would like you to go from class to class
and listen for a day or two and select us a teacher. Per-
haps two if you think best. They teach different books,
different parts of the Bible, you know, and there is no reason
why we shouldn’t have the most interesting one, or ones, if
they will come. We will pay them of course, and send the
car for them. Would you like to do that?”

“Why certainly!” said Doris politely, hoping Mrs. Mac-JOB’S NIECE

 

308

donald did not see how dull the thing seemed to her that
she had been asked to do. After all, it was all in the day’s
work. If she was earning a salary why not earn it? And
some work must necessarily be disagreeable. But would
this work in with the spirit of her employer’s plan? Well,
time would tell, and she could always report to him and ask
advice.

So the very day the movers came she had to send Rose
out to Silver Ledge to do her best at settling, while she took
her way to a quiet section of the city and entered the doors
of the Bible School.

Doris owned a Bible. It had been her mother’s. There
were verses marked in it in red ink, and sometimes as a child
when a sentimental spirit of longing for her mother came
upon her she had opened it and read over all the ver-
ses marked in red ink, searching, yearning for a touch
of her mother through those scattered, underlined state-
ments.

Various Testaments, also, prizes for good behavior and
attendance at Sunday School, had come her way through the
years, and passed out of her hand leaving no trace in her
life of their matchless meaning. Even her brief and super-
ficial study of the Bible in college had not made much
impression upon her. She had enjoyed the beauty of diction,
and the perfection of wisdom in some of the great passages,
but she had never looked on Moses or Paul or Noah as real,
living men, had never dreamed that the book contained the
way of life, or traced the story of the Cross from cover to
cover. She was as ignorant about it as a child.

And now when someone placed a Bible in her hands
and she was told to turn to a certain passage she fumbled
about among the leaves helplessly, till a plain girl with spec-
tacles had to help her. She had come into a new world of
which she knew nothing.JOB’S NIECE 309

She heard mysterious talk of dispensations. She learned
for the first time that some of the Bible was written ex-
plicitly for the Jews, some for the Gentiles and some for the
Church. She heard of types, and symbolism, of the sig-
nificance of different numbers, and the uniformity of these
things throughout the holy word. She heard references to
prophecies astounding in their detail which her own knowl- ~-
edge of current events could not but fit to the fulfillment.
Attention was called to the mathematical perfection of the
smallest detail of this wondrous book, of hidden acrostics,
and invariable adherence to the plan of its whole structure
throughout every smallest part; of continuity and consistency
of the whole from beginning to end, so perfectly connected,
and so fully quoted from part to part as to leave no doubt
in the mind of the true scholar who was spirit led but that it
had no human origin. Recent excavations were cited which
made plain certain passages heretofore obscure, or thought
to be in opposition to so-called science. These strange people
spoke of science, reverently, it is true, but as if it were a
babe in arms to be cared for tenderly, but not to be always
trusted against the wisdom of its parents.

She was amazed and shaken. It was as if she had been
looking through a sudden opening of a great door into a
vast room of such proportion and such grandeur that her
eyes were not able to contain nor differentiate between the
wonders there displayed. Each beauty shone like a dazzling
separate jewel, and things she had never been able to recon- ©
cile suddenly took place and fell into reasonableness without -
her knowing how. Of course, if all these things could be
so, it made all the difference in the world. But she had
never known before that there was anybody living who took
the Bible literally for fact, with no fancy in its weaving.
It had heretofore been to her a lovely parable, misty and
obscure in its pattern, except in places where rare and well-310 JOB’S NIECE

eS]

known truths stood out against a charming but impossible

 

background.

She was startled into wonder.

She sat still in that one room throughout the morning,
and let teachers and classes change as they would around
her. She heard many lines of teaching, some of which she
understood, and more of which was filled with so many
references to things she knew nothing about that she could
make little sense of it. But somehow through it all she
was stimulated with a great desire to know what they were
talking about and judge herself whether this great breath-
taking idea of what they called Truth were really true.
If it were it meant the answer to the hunger of her heart.
If it were it was the flaming sun calling through the dark
storm clouds of life, calling and showing her that she was
not all alone, no, not even if the earth reeled under her
tottering feet. There was a Rock somewhere upon which
she might stand.

And so staying through the morning she came at last to
the final session of the day, and Job. For a moment, when
the topic was announced, a smile trembled faintly to her lips
at the memory of how Rose had jocosely called her Job's
niece. How amused Rose would be to learn that she had
been to a class on Job that day.

It was not like a sermon. It was like the revealing of a
ereat truth ; the answer to a great perplexity that had troubled
her ever since she could remember ; and more opportune just
now when she was passing through trouble after trouble, and
seemingly stripped of all that had made her life bright in
the past.

Doris began to realize that she had unconsciously been
trusting all these years to her own morality, her uprightness,
and refinement, to save her from whatever her vague idea of
a future punishment would turn out to be. She foundJOB’S NIECE

that she had been leaning on herself to save herself.

It was not until weeks later, however, when she and Mrs.
Macdonald came to study the last chapter of the wonderful
book of Job that she understood that even the godly are
afflicted and that not for anything that they have done
wrongly, but that they may learn to know and judge them-
selves. As she looked at herself in the light of this rev-
elation she could utter sincerely the words of Job: “I have
heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye
seeth Thee. Wherefore I abhor myself and repent in dust
and ashes.”

When the first day at the Bible School was done she went
back thoughtfully to the same old muddle that had been with
her since her father died, yet somehow things were not quite
the same. It was as if she had been given a key that would
open a door into another place where she might rest and
breathe and understand.

She carried with her in memory a verse that had been
painted in beautiful letters over the arch of the platform in
the classroom where she had sat: “Thy Word is a lamp unto
my feet and a light unto my path,” and over the hall as she
went out was another, “The people that sat in darkness have
seen a great Light.”

Was it possible that the Bible had been meant to be that
to men? And if it were true why had the world never
known it? She had never known that even ministers knew
all these things about the Bible that she had heard to-day.
Why, if they knew and believed it, did they not shout it to
the multitudes from the housetops and go out and compel
people to hear?

She was peculiarly unprejudiced because she had not
lived in a world that was religiously biased. Religion had
scarcely touched her life in any way since her mother
died when she was a little girl, and prayer and the Bible,312 JOB’S NIECE

and even churchgoing to any great extent had drifted out
of her life.

Back in the world again she began to think she had been
overwrought and that the impressions she had received
during the day had been unreal and not fitted for everyday
life. Yet there was something in it all that drew her back
again for another day before she could go to Mrs. Macdonald
and make her report about teachers.

And the second day was like the first, only more deeply
impressive, because by this time she understood a little more
of the language that these strange, ardent people used.

By afternoon she had picked her teachers, one a sweet-
faced woman with deep, earnest, brown eyes, who taught
the book of Job, the other a white-haired man giving lessons
on Revelation. With each she made a temporary arrange-
ment that they were to come out to the Macdonald home
at a near date and talk with Mrs. Macdonald about teaching
a Bible class in her home. And on her way back she began
to feel that she was committed somehow to a strange new
way of living and thinking, and could not help wondering
how it was going to work out. Also she knew that now she
must write to Angus Macdonald and find out whether he
approved of this whim of his mother’s to which she was
now so fully committed. For she could see now that there
was no likelihood of the old lady becoming weary of so
fascinating a study as this was going to be under these two
ardent, consecrated teachers.

So she set herself to fully put forth the matter in a letter
to her employer, giving her impressions of her day at the
Bible School, and incidentally revealing her lack of education
in the things that he knew best but had not followed fully.

Angus Macdonald when he received the letter put aside
the books and papers that were scattered over his desk, andJOB’S NIECE

sat down to read it. When he had finished he read it over
again.
That night he answered it, and among other things he said:

“You have recalled to me my early faith, and the Book which
I have sadly neglected. It is a great Book! I have been so en-
grossed with the world, and the Book of Science lately that I
have forgotten there were all those things to be remembered
above everything else. I am glad you are taking that up. I
know nothing in the world that could delight my mother so
much, and you certainly are fulfilling my highest wish for her
if you have found the thing that will make her happiest. I half
wish J were there to study with you. But I shall enjoy the
lessons secondhand if you will be good enough to report to me
in outline, as you promised to do about all that you and Mother
are doing. Perhaps I can sort of keep in touch with the study
too, although I am afraid I left my Bible at home, unless
Mother tucked it in my trunk somewhere. But I guess there
are a few copies yet to be had in Europe and I’ll find one, and
look up the Book of Job. I’m wondering why that held any
special interest for you?”

Meantime, at home, events were moving rapidly.CHAPTER XXV.

Tue Dunbars were moved at last.

The doctor had finally decided that it would be well to
take Ned into the country. He seemed listless and weak,
and perhaps if he could lie in a hammock out in the open air
he might gain strength faster.

So he was taken carefully in a comfortable car that was
hired for the occasion, with Zephyr on the front seat making
pert remarks to the driver; Zephyr, for the first time roused
by the ride out of the sullenness that had possessed her since
her lunch party had been so summarily ejected from the
house.

But when they reached Silver Ledge, even while they were
helping Ned from the car to his bed, she stood to one side
glaring about with her china-blue stare on the house, on the
street, on the people who sauntered curiously by to watch
the new arrivals. She looked more like a china doll than
ever, as she turned her sleek head from side to side, dis-
approval in every line of her dolly-face.

The truck bearing the last pieces of furniture including
Zephyr’s two trunks came driving up and began to unload.

Zephyr sauntered over to one of the men, taking care to
keep the loaded truck between herself and the house so that
none of the family could see her.

“You've got two trunks in there,’
very first things you put in. Remember? Well, it’s a
mistake. They’re to go back to the city. They’re mine and

I didn’t want them out here. You can leave them at the
314

>

she said sweetly, “theJOB’S NIECE

Central Station to be called for. Ask for Tim Johnson
and give him this card. It’ll be all right.”

She handed the man a card and some money, and he
agreed and went on with his work of unloading. When his
assistant came back for another load he said: “Don’t touch
them two trunks in there. The young lady wants ’em to go
back to the station.”

Zephyr tripped away to the taxi driver.

~You’re to wait here for me till I come out. I may be
going back with you,” she said, “and don’t say anything
about it to the rest? See?” And she handed him another
bill. Then she hurried into the house and looked around.

They were settling Ned, exhausted, into his bed in the
downstairs bedroom which Doris and Rose had made com-
fortable at the expense of the others. The room was gay
with new chintz, the handiwork of Rose who was salving a
guilty conscience by many works of supererogation. Ned
looked around pleased, and smiled weakly. Zephyr would
like it perhaps, it looked so pretty here. Then he closed his
eyes and dropped into a doze. He was very tired from the
trip.

Zephyr, while they were arranging his pillows, peered hur-
riedly into the other rooms, stole upstairs and looked around,
curled a contemptuous iip and hurried down again. Then
she came into Ned’s room and announced roughly :

“I can’t stay in this dump. I’d die. I’m done! I’m going!
If you want me you'll have to come to town and live. You
know where to find me when you get ready. Good-by!”
‘And out the door she went and into the taxi. Before Doris
and Rose had recovered their senses they heard the taxi
starting. Looking out of the window they saw Zephyr com-
posedly sitting in the front seat with the driver.

Doris went quickly over to the bed.
Ned had half risen from the pillow, his face blanched,JOB’S NIECE

his eyes filled with dismay. He looked as if Zephyr had
struck him in the face. Just an instant he held himself up

looking after her wildly, and then he flung out his arms with

a cry:

“Oh, Zephyr!” and dropped back upon the pillow, almost
as if he were dead.

Doris sprang to him, while Rose found the restoratives
that the nurse had brought for the journey, and Jean ran
for the nurse, who was in the kitchen preparing some broth
for the patient.

It was a long time before Ned rallied. He seemed to be
stricken. And when he was at last asleep after taking a few
spoonfuls of hot soup, the nurse went into the other

room to find his sisters.

“What’s happened?” she asked sharply. ‘“Where’s his
wife?”

“She’s gone,” said Doris. “She came and told him she
couldn’t stay here, and if he wanted her he’d have to come
after her!’’

“Well, I say good riddance! She is a huzzy if there ever

was one!”

“But it will kill Ned!” said Doris sadly.

“No!” said the nurse wisely. “It won’t kill him. He'll
come through. Folks don’t die so easy, and he’s got a good
start now. It’s hard on him, but it won’t kill him. How-
ever—if it did, I’m not so sure but he might as well die one
way as another. She’s the limit, and if she stayed around
I’m certain she would kill him with her carryings-on. He
ain’t had a minute’s peace since she come. When she’s out
of his sight he frets for her and when she’s in she’s always
nagging at him to get well and do things for her!”

So the home-coming was not a happy time, although both
Rose and Doris felt the relief of having Zephyr gone.

Day succeeded day and still the elder brother lay listless,JOB’S NIECE 317

having to be forced to eat, urged to even answer a question.
“It’s no use, I’m done for!” he said to Doris when she
tried to rouse him. “What’s the use of my getting well?
I’m married and my wife has no use for me. I might as
well die and be done with it!”
“That’s foolish, Ned,” urged Doris. “Have you ever

thought that you could win her back again if you would get
well and be your old self 2?”

Ned shook his head listlessly.

“It wouldn’t work unless I had a lot of money.”

“Make money, then!” said Doris. “You’ve got brains,
and could get a good job. Why don’t you try to get well
quick and show her?”

“You don’t understand, Doris, she’s got an awful lot
of fellows running after her. It just turns her head.
She’s fond of me, but they give her things and take her
places, and she likes that sort of thing. I can’t do it for
her.”

“What sort of a girl is it that will let other men take her
to places without her husband?” asked Doris bitterly.

“She's only a kid, Doris. She’s never had any bringing
up. I’mcrazy about her, Doris. I couldn’t stand seeing her
around other men like that, and I thought if I got her away
she’d be all right.”

“Oh, Ned!” said Doris, and dropped her face down on his
thin white hand despairingly. “Poor child!”

When she looked up again there was a tear stealing weakly
down the white cheek of the boy.

“Oh, I know, Doris!” he said bitterly. “I’m no good. I
oughtn’t ’ave done it, but I did, and what’s the use?”

They sat quiet for a long time and then Doris said:

“Ned, if you'll brace up and try to get well, I’ll find you
a position somewhere and I'll help you to get a little home
that Zephyr would like, and you can try again.”JOB’S NIECE

318
It was still in the room for a long time, and finally Ned

pressed her hand feebly.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “You're a peach, Doris!
You always were, and I’m not worth it. But I don’t think

it would be any use.”
Nevertheless he seemed brighter the next day and took

the food they brought him, finishing it all. The next time
the doctor came he asked:
“Doc, when d’ya think I could go to work ?”
The doctor eyed him grimly over his spectacles, and finally
said: “Oh, about week after next, if you'll brace up and do
as I say.”
“Do you mean it, Doc?” There was a new spring to
Ned’s voice.
“Why, sure, boy! It’s all up to you now.”
The next day Ned sat up for an hour in the morning and
two in the afternoon. The third day he was walking around,
and the family began to take heart of hope. In a week he
was doing little things about the house and Doris had a con-
sultation with Mr. Hamilton who found a job in an office
for him. This news brought new light into Ned’s eyes.
He was to begin work just as soon as the doctor gave per-
mission.
That night Ned sat down and wrote a letter to Zephyr.
Meantime Doris had settled into her place with Angus
Macdonald’s mother, and there was no longer any question
whether she was going to be able to carry out the young
man’s plan, for it was already a success.

Every two or three days Doris would receive some word
from abroad, post-cards mostly, with just a greeting,
and usually some little suggestion about her work. For in-

stance:
“A picture of a garden I saw to-day. I have written

Mother about it.JOB’S NIECE

“Perhaps you and she will
I am sending,”
Or:

“I found a charming book in this library this afternoon
which I think you and Mother would enjoy. I bought a

Copy on my way back to the hotel and am mailing it to-night.
Perhaps you will read it to her.”

Every few days there cam
employer was keeping tt
most friendly to her.
and nothing was out o
another.

319
plant the bulbs together which

€ some little reminder that her
1e home in mind, and that he was
And yet it was 41] quite impersonal,
f keeping with their relation to one

These friendly messages grew to be exceedingly pleasant
to her, and life was becoming altogether cheerful once more.
Ned seemed on the highroad to health. John was steady
and faithful at his job. Jean liked the new community
school. Rose had not yet complained of being out of the
world. Florence seemed to be quite happy in the hospital

as long as she was kept supplied with plenty of flowers and

visitors. The new Bible studies were proving most fas-

cinatingly interesting. A light was growing in Doris’ eye
and a spring in her step.

Then, one day, as Doris was reading to Mrs. Macdonald
who had a slight headache, the maid brought up a card.

“Tamar Engadine,” it read.

Mrs. Macdonald looked a
then handed it to Doris.

“ I don’t know who in the world she is,” she said dis-
interestedly, “but would you mind going
me? My head is just beginning to quiet
if I get up and dress and talk to her it will just start up
again. She is probably an agent or something, but tell her
I don’t want any. Or if it’s a subscription she wants tell
her to leave her literature and I'll mail a check if I see fit.

t it perplexed a moment and

down and excusing
down, and I knowJOB’S NIECE

320
Would you mind?”

»”» said Doris blithely, and laying down her book

Or. if she insists, she can call again.
“Not at all
sped down the wide oaken staircase.
Tamar had not taken the seat the maid had motioned her
Instead she stood in the doorway of

to when she came in.
ate afternoon stn,

stion room in the glow of the |
tapping the polished floor impatiently with a tiny, patent-
leather slipper and staring rather rudely, Doris thought,
| and across to the luxurious living-
1e articles, her eyes

the rece{

around the spacious hal
room. It was as if she were appraising tl
gloating over each one in turn.

wore a costume of soft pink of a
hue newly from Paris. In its clinging outlines, scant of
fold, it gave the effect of almost nakedness, until one looked
closer and saw that it was buttoned closely almost up to
the tip of the chin, and that the sleeves fitted down over the
hands. She wore a little close hat which was set off by a
sharp dark lock of deep reddish hair daringly venturing out
over a cheek of matchless perfection. She turned and
Doris saw that she was vividly beautiful with the charm
that only travel and education and money could impart.
There was make-up on her face, certainly, but put on with
such skill, that while it startled with its unnatural hue, yet
‘+ could not be detected. She was like some super-being,
Doris thought, not intended for common life, a work of
s—a wondrous fashion

It was summer, and she

consummate art—man’s art, not God’
figure rare and graceful, but somehow not a human being
And then, as the girl turned and looked her
full in the face with a handsome insolent stare, Doris knew.
This girl was another like her sister-in-law, Zephyr! Ex-
Come of another walk of life, perhaps,
but still the same. Classed in a social realm so far above
the other that they would not walk the same world, ’tis true,
but off the same. stripe! A selfish, empty-headed, lovely.

like herself.

actly the same type!JOB’S NIECE 321

piece of flesh like a will-o’-the-wisp, whose only function be-
yond pleasing herself was to lead men astray.

It is strange how a moral and spiritual portrait can come
into vision in a flash at a first glimpse of some soulless being.
Doris rebuked herself for hasty judgment and went forward
graciously.

She had been long enough in the big house to have grown
accustomed to its spaciousness and luxury. She moved
among the rare and costly trifles of its furnishings as if they
had been about her always, and now as she took command
of the situation she was not embarrassed, she was just her
simple natural self and might have been a daughter of the
house, for all her manner.

This was no book agent, nor yet a collector for some char-
ity, she could see that at a glance, yet she was on the defensive
involuntarily.

“Mrs. Macdonald is not feeling well to-day,” she said
with simple dignity. “She is lying down and does not wish
to be disturbed. She asked me to see you for her.”

“Thank you. I don’t care to see you,” said the girl with
a trill in her voice like the song of a bad angel. “I came
here to see Mrs. Macdonald and I intend to see her. Just
take my card up to her please, at once!”

The imperious tone was offensive. Doris stood looking
at her and thinking she had been right at first. How like
Zephyr, yet with cultured voice and graceful manner.

“Mrs. Macdonald had your card, Miss Engadine,” said
Doris. |

“Oh!” said the girl wheeling and looking at her sharply.
“And what did she say ?”

“She—did not seem to remember you—” said Doris, sof-
tening the truth graciously.

The girl laughed, and again Doris was filled with that

sense of soullessness in the laughter.
21322 JOB’S NIECE

“Tell her it’s about her son I want to see her! Then
she’ll remember me!”

Doris’ heart stood still for an instant and then went for-
ward in great slow thuds. She felt as if the color was
draining out of her face. Yet she had no idea why. Then
she sensed that here was something that belonged to her
job. Here was a thing that Mrs. Macdonald needed to be
protected from. Perhaps it was just things like this that
1 feared, and wanted a friend who loved her

f time of need. Instinctively she

always at hand for a
felt that there was something here that might hurt her old

her son hac

friend.

She drew herself up and looked the ott
She had failed somewhat in her first interview
Besides,

1er girl in the eye

pleasantly.
with Zephyr but it had taught her something.
the other matter had come too close to home for her to be
fairly self-controlled.
volved another. She could be bold.

“T’m sorry, Miss Engadine,” she said pleasantly, “but I'm
afraid you'll have to tell me about it. Mrs. Macdonald does
not wish to be disturbed this afternoon. I shall be glad

But this was something that in-

to serve you in any way I can.”
“Who are you?” asked Tamar insolently. ‘Her sec-
retary?”
“Oh, no,” smiled Doris, “I’m Miss Dunbar.”
“Oh. One of Angie’s cousins?” pursued the visitor.
“No, just a friend of Mrs. Macdonald’s. Won't you

come and sit down? Perhaps you'll tell me who you are,

and if there is anything I can do for you y
Without realizing it Doris had put the tiniest bit of supe-
riority into her voice, and it met with instant resentment.
Tamar bowed to no one on this earth.
“I’m Angus Macdonald’s fiancée,” she said loftily, anc
again something struck hard across Doris’ soul, and the sJOB’S NIECE

feeling she had had when Ned told her he was married Swept
over her in a great wave.

But Doris had not been through months at the school
of discipline for nothing. She had learned to rise to an oc-
casion, and she had learned to keep her own feelings from
sitting shamelessly on her face. She met Tamar’s thrust
without the flicker of an eyelash. She realized that it should
be nothing to her if this girl was all to her employer. She
had no right to care in the least.

“Yes?” she said with a pleasant upward inflection that
really meant almost anything or nothing at all. She showed
no surprise, no interest.

“Now, will you tell Mrs. Macdonald I wish to see her?”

Doris was considering.

“No,” she said pleasantly, “I think not. If Mrs. Mac-
donald had known that you were engaged to her son she
would have recognized your name at once. If she does not
know it, this is no time to acquaint her with the fact. She
is not well, as I told you. I should think it would be best
for her son to give her the information first. I should think
both he and she would prefer that. That, however, is of
course none of my business. I am merely here to act for
Mrs. Macdonald to-day. If there is anything that I can help
you in I am at your service, but Mrs. Macdonald is not to be
disturbed to-day.”

Tamar studied her contemptuously, glanced up the broad
stair as if she half meditated making a dash to obtain an
audience by force, and then with a slight shrug of her
silken shoulders said haughtily :

“Very well, then, give me Angus’ address. I’ve lost my
address book in which he wrote it, and I can’t remember it.
In fact I didn’t look at it after he wrote it and I wish to
communicate with him at once about a most important
matter.”324 JOB’S NIECE

Now it happened that Angus Macdonald, the night he bade
Doris adieu after he had stepped back from seeing her to
the door, had turned toward her again and said:

“Oh. Miss Dunbar, by the way, you have my itinerary ;
kindly consider it confidential. There are reasons why I do
not care to have everyone know just where | am going. Of
course I don’t suppose anyone will ask you, but they might,
and if anyone does, just refer them to my office. It will save
possible complications.”

Doris had thought nothing of it at the time, but now it
came back with puzzling reminder. Of course he probably
did not mean this to apply to any of his real friends, and
if this girl was his fiancée—? It was with sudden relief
that she realized that she had no choice but to obey his
request.

“T am afraid I can’t do that,” said Doris, “but you might
telephone his office of course. They would be able to
answer your questions I am sure.”

Tamar eyed Doris keenly. She was not brainless if she
was empty headed.

“Oh.” she said contemptuously, “I can telephone Mrs.
Macdonald of course. I thought it would be more consider-
ate to come to her. But I'll hand it to you, you certainly
know your business, whatever position you hold in this house-
hold. I’m sure you earn your wages !”’

With that fling Tamar Engadine went out to her car
and rode away.

Doris went into the far end of the living-room, to the
great bay window that looked down upon the road and the
valley, and watched Tamar’s flashy car go gliding down and
disappear into the pine grove. She stood for some minutes
looking out with startled eyes, as though she were arraigning
herself. Then she went to the maid and gave direction that
if anyone called Mrs. Macdonald on the telephone, she wasJOB’S NIECE 325

to say she was not feeling well and ask for a message; and
if they asked her for Mr. Angus’ address she was to tell them
to call the office.

She went back to her old friend, wondering how she
was going to explain the caller. Perhaps after all Miss
Engadine might come again when she was not there to protect
her, and she ought to tell the whole truth. And yet, should
she? That part about her being Angus’ fiancéee— Why
should she have to announce a thing like that if the mother
did not already know it? Surely it would be better for her
to keep out of it entirely.

But the mother’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Well, who was it?” she asked, her voice almost sharp as
if with a sudden anxiety. “Not an agent?”

“No,” said Doris trying to make her voice sound disinter-
ested, “just a young woman inquiring for your son’s address.
I thought you would not want to be bothered with it, and I
referred her to his office. Was that right? Perhaps I
should have come up and told you, but I had said you were
lying down and could not be disturbed.”

Mrs. Macdonald’s eyes had a startled look.

“What sort of a person was she?”

Doris paused. Should she give her exact impression?
No, for*she felt instinctively it might worry the mother.

“About my age, I judge,’”’ said Doris, “slim, handsome,
stylish. She had dark hair with the latest bob, and she
came in a car which she drove herself. She really is ex-
tremely handsome!” she repeated again, feeling that perhaps
she had not given the other girl full justice. “Strikingly so,
I should say.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Macdonald, “I think I know now who
she must be. An acquaintance of my son’s—that is—I
think Angus would not— Oh, you did just right, dear, of
course. Thank you so much for going down.”326 JOB’S NIECE

They finished the chapter they had been reading, and went
over the outline of the Bible lesson for the next day, but
Doris could see that her old friend was absent-minded, and
her eyes far away as if she were troubled about something.

She slipped away as soon as she could, for somehow her
own heart was ill at ease, and down in the pine grove she
stopped her car for a few minutes and had it out with
herself.

“Now, see here, Doris Dunbar, are you getting interested
in the man you work for, like any common stenographer?
A stranger too! You have only met him a couple of times.
Wasn’t it enough for you to be rescued from a loveless
engagement, without getting into a mess like this? Get out
from under and don’t you dare think of that man again in
any way but as your employer in whom you have no interest
except for the salary he pays you. Now, go home and
behave yourself. And be careful what kind of letters you
write! You’ve got off the subject several times lately in your
reports, and it’s got to stop. A man that has friends like
that Engadine creature isn’t in your class at all, no matter
how much you may think of his mother, so look out!”CHAPTER XXVI

THE summer drew on and the little house at Silver Ledge
began to seem more like home. Rose settled into quite a
little housekeeper, putting pretty touches in every room, and
making it all most attractive. She even set to work to make
her stepmother’s room comfortable and pretty against the time
when she should come back from the hospital. They did
not hasten that time, feeling that Florence enjoyed the at-
tention she got, and knowing that it could not but be trying
to them all when she returned.

Jean had found a baby to care for one day a week, while
its mother went to the city shopping, and was happy all day
long, helping about the house, or wandering over the mead-
ows picking daisies and weaving them into a chain and a
crown for herself.

“Oh, Doris,” she said, “isn’t it good, with just us? Oh,
why do we ever have to have Florence or that Zephyr thing
again any more? Do we?”

And Doris would sigh and say:

“Oh, I don’t know, dear. Iam afraid so. Of course!”

Doris was not quite so light-hearted as she had been.
Rose noticed it and drew the puckers together on her white
forehead trying to make it out.

“She can’t be worrying over Milton Page,” she said.
“But there’s no telling. I don’t suppose he seems such a
flat tire to her as he does to us.”

Doris still loved her employment with Mrs. Macdonald.
By this time they were fast friends, and it was an unspoken
agreement between them that almost every day Doris spent
about half the time in the big house on the hill. And most
327328 JOB’S NIECE

of the time now they devoted to Bible study. To Doris it
was fast becoming the great absorbing interest of her life.
Other things had failed her, but this seemed to come into
the empty places and fill them and satisfy. She marvelled
how it had been brought about. She looked back to the day
that Mrs. Macdonald had proposed the study and saw how
far she had come, and how the Book instead of being dull
as she had expected, was now a never failing, constantly
growing, source of delight.

And then one day she came upon the verse:

“He that believeth shall grow stronger and stronger,” and
she remembered Mrs. Macdonald’s words about coming to
the Book with a believing mind, and saw that it was true.
She had been given the assurance and led on into a place
where there was now no question of doubting. She knew
it was all true. She had seen wondrous things in the law.
Her eyes had been opened.

And then there began to be the thought of her dear ones,
and the wish that they might know, too, the inevitable re-
sult of finding treasure one’s self. Soon she began to won-
der why the whole world was not eager to find what she had
just discovered.

Ned had been working steadily every day since his re-
covery. He still had a white, hopeless look, but there was
a growing line of determination around his mouth that Doris
watched hopefully.

Zephyr had not been out to Silver Ledge again, and she
had not answered Ned’s letter. Doris knew that from Ned
himself. He had taken to confiding in his sister again as
he had been used to do before he met Zephyr, and Doris was
tender with him in spite of her feeling about Zephyr. She
knew that only Zephyr could take herself out of Ned’s heart,
or else heal his hurt by coming back and doing right. And
for a long time that seemed a hopeless proposition.JOB’S NIECE

But finally Ned told Doris one day that Zephyr had con-
sented at last to come back to him if he would get a house
that she liked and let her choose the furnishing.

By dint of much self-sacrifice on the part of both Doris
and Ned, he was able at last to get together three hundred
dollars wherewith to make the first payment on a tiny apart-
ment, whose monthly payments were but twenty-five dollars,
through a bewildering number of years, but whose showy
appointments at last attracted the whimsical eye of Zephyr.
She professed to be willing to come to Ned if he would buy
that apartment and set her up in it away from his family.

So Ned brightened up and began to take heart of hope.
He forthwith clothed Zephyr with all the virtues that his
new standard of industry had desired to find in her and
looked forward with almost feverish eagerness to the day
when they could set up housekeeping together.

Doris sighed over him, but yet was relieved that his prob-
lem seemed to be near to the solving; though she trembled
for him, for she had no faith in Zephyr.

About this time, too, Florence came home.

It had done Florence a lot of good to have a broken leg.
She had had more attention than had been given her since
Mr. Dunbar hastily wooed and married her, somewhat late
in life. She had had flowers almost every day, and she had
won many friends in the hospital. She was in her element
when she could be pitied and petted and waited upon.

There had been another development also that both per-
plexed and somewhat annoyed Doris, and that was her step-
mother’s new devotion to herself. It seemed almost as if
Mrs. Dunbar was afraid to let Doris go out of her sight,
after she came home.

She bore the first glimpse of the new home better than
was to have been expected. Doris had prepared her by many
descriptions of the house, and really made it worse than it330 JOB’S NIECE

 

was, so there was nothing new for her to complain about
and she settled quite peaceably into her room, even praised
a pincushion that Jean had forgivingly made for her, and
said she thought she could make some napkins out of some
old table-cloths to fill a crying need for everyday table
napery.

It developed during the first week of her return, that Mr.
Hamilton had been the donor of many of the flowers she had
received in the hospital and that he had frequently run in to
see her. He now fell into the habit of running out to Silver
Ledge every two or three days on one pretext or another. It
certainly made a cheerfuller Florence and relieved the tense-
ness of the household to a large extent. The entire family
were deeply grateful to him, and Florence began to go about
the house with smiles, and now and then even a tremulous
song upon her lips. She was not a singer, but even a twang-
ing quaver with a flat note now and then is better than hys-
terics, as Rose remarked comically, and the children were
getting quite reconciled to their stepmother.

And then one day Florence went to town and came back
with her hair bobbed.

It wasn’t so much that she had her hair cut off, for she
hadn’t a great deal of it to miss anyway, but it was that she
got a regular boy bob, as near like Rose’s as could be, only
Rose’s wave was natural and charming, and Florence’s
was thin and wiry and gray.

“Say! I think that’s the limit!” said John after she had
smilingly left the dinner table the first night to go to the
door and let Hamilton in. “I don’t see why you don’t do
something about it, Doris. It makes me sick to look at her.”

“What would she do, John? We can’t stick it on again,”
cut in Rose crabbily. “I think it’s the limit the way every-
body blames Doris for everything everybody else has done.
She’s just a pack horse for this family, as Milton Page said.JOB’S NIECE

John, go get a chair for her and make her rest. She looks
worn to a frazzle. I'll tell you what I’m going to do about
it, Brother. I’m going to let my hair grow!”

And then while they were talking about it in the dining-
room, as they sat around Ned eating a late supper because he
had been delayed by some extra work at the office, the door
suddenly opened and Florence walked in, a pink spot in each
cheek and her eyes shining like old stars.

“Doris,” she said embarrassedly, “I thought I ought to tell
you at once. Mr. Hamilton has asked me to marry him.
Would you mind so very much if I said yes? Mr. Hamilton
says he is lonely, and it would really give you more room
here in case we went away. Although, Herbert’’—she hesi-
tated and blushed at the name—‘“‘Herbert says he is quite
willing to live here in case you feel you cannot get along
without me.”

They stood about her speechless for an instant, scarcely
knowing how to break the embarrassing silence after this
astonishing announcement. Then little Jean jumped up and
clapped her hands:

“Oh, Florence, I think that will be perfectly lovely!” she
exclaimed joyfully. “Then you won’t have to mind being
our mother any more the way you did, because you won’t be,
will you? And we can be real friends!’

Florence looked at her youngest stepdaughter with a puz-
zled smile, unable to decide whether this was a congratulation
or not, but concluded to take it for the best.

“Yes, dearie, and you can come down to visit me, and we
will have cookies every time you come.”

“Why, that will be wonderful, Florence!” smiled the little
girl. “But isn’t it funny that you seem more mothery now
when you are stopping it than you ever did when you were!”

Doris hurried forward to prevent further compromising
revelations, and put out a gracious hand.332 JOB’S NIECE

“I’m glad, Florence!” she said heartily. “You deserve a
good home. I know it’s been hard for you here, and you
will be much happier away. We shall get along all right,
and as Jean says we'll enjoy coming down to see you often.”

It was while the others were talking to their stepmother
that Hamilton spoke to Doris aside:

“T thought maybe this might make it a little easier for
you and the children, Miss Doris,” he said, while Rose was
going through a comical performance of giving her step-
mother her blessing. “She’s kind of restless and needs to be
amused. And you know I’ve been a lonely old fellow since
my mother died. She and I get along together famously.”

Only John, of all the group of relieved children, stood
scowling after the two when they finally went back to the
living-room together.

“Aw, Gee!” he exclaimed. “Whaddee wanta marry a
flat tire like Flarnce for? I thought he was a real good
guy! JI thought he had more brains!”

They were married quietly a few weeks later and went to
live in a downtown apartment hotel, which maintained a
splendid restaurant where they might take their meals when-
ever Florence did not feel like cooking. Hamilton said he
meant to have his wife take things easy and have a good
time. Florence was ecstatic.

But the night before the wedding the bride came to Doris’
door weeping and asked her to come to her room a while,
that she had something to tell her.

Doris went wondering and found her stepmother greatly
agitated.

“T can’t help it,” she said excitedly. “Perhaps you'll put
me in jail and spoil it all, but I can’t go into this with any-
thing on my conscience. I never was so happy in my life,
but I can’t take it and go thinking always it doesn’t belong
to me. Doris, I don’t deserve to be happy. I stole yourJOB’S NIECE

engagement ring! I pawned it! I never meant to steal it
permanently. I thought it would only be gone about a week.
And then I could redeem it and give it back to you. But
that lawyer turned out to be a fraud and I found I wouldn't
have a cent, and I was almost crazy!”

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, and Doris
with her arm around her tried to interrupt the excited flow
of confession, but Florence would not be stopped.

“No. let me finish it all,” she said, “I must tell the whole
story before I lose my courage. I tried everything to get
money when I found you were having trouble with Milton
about that ring. I went to an agency and tr ied to get a job,
and finally I went to Mr. Hamilton as a last resort, when I
found an angry Milton was, and borrowed the money !
But it was too late! They had sold the ring for more money
than they asked me, and the man said he could not get it
back. Then I went out and I thought I would drown my-
self I was so frightened, but I got run over instead and—
and—you know the rest, Doris! You’ve been so good to me!
And every day when you came to the hospital I thought
I would confess before you left! And every night after I
hadn’t I lay awake and cried and prayed! I’ve been so
ashamed and so frightened! And when I found Milton
Page had broken off his engagement on that account I
thought I showld die! 1 saw how unhappy you were about
it, and I felt like a murderer! Now, Doris, I’m willing you
should tell him everything and get him back. I would
rather have you happy arid married to him, even if I have to
go to jail for it! I really would! And I'll tell Herbert all

about it too.”

Doris sat down on the side of the bed beside her step-
mother and drew her head upon her shoulder.

“Listen, Florence,” she said gently as one soothes a little
child, “Milton didn’t break the engagement. I broke it334

myself.
ever!

steal it.
but she
need to
and he
broken

   

JOB’S NIECE

And I’m not unhappy. I don’t want Milton back
As for the ring I got that back safely. You didn’t

Rose got it for me. I don’t know how she did it,
got it. Now don’t worry any more. Milton doesn’t
know a thing about it. He has his ring safely back
has gone away, and everything is all right. The
engagement had nothing whatever to do with the

ring. I found I didn’t love him enough to marry him, that

was all.

Now wipe your eyes, and be happy, Florence, there

isn’t a thing in the world for you to worry about.”

“But

I’ve been mean to you all,” sobbed Florence smiling

through her tears. “I was always jealous of you i
“Never mind,” said Doris happily. “That’s over now,

and we've all forgotten it. It was hard for you too, I sup-

pose, and we didn’t understand each other. Let’s just forget

»?

It.

 

It was about that time that Ned made his first payment on
his apartment and moved in with some of the surplus furni-
ture that could be spared, and some that Zephyr insisted on
purchasing at an installment house, and the household at
Silver Ledge dwindled to four.

Then

the winter came on, and the early twilight and long

evenings. Doris began to see a vista of lonely years ahead
of her, when she let herself think about it at all. She missed
Ned, dependent upon her as he had been. She felt desolate
to think of him tied down to Zephyr. She could not help
visualizing some of the things he would have to bear as the

husband
science,

of a coarse, willful beauty without ballast or con-

The letters from abroad still came regularly, and Doris
still sent in her reports of what Mrs. Macdonald and she
were doing to fill the days, but now her letters had become
brief and stilted, more formal and business-like than at first.

Doris was winning back her self-respect that had been sadlyJOB’S NIECE 335

shaken during her memorable talk with Tamar Engadine.
She had not seen nor heard any more of that young woman,
but she had not forgotten the lesson she had taught her,
and Angus Macdonald in the intervals of his work, found
himself vaguely disappointed from week to week as the
American mail came in, and Doris’ reports appeared promptly
but somehow left him unsatisfied.

And once he wrote and asked her if she was getting tired
of her job and wanted him to come home and relieve her?
Or was the salary getting too small and was she not satis-
fied? And then the next week he sent a check of fifty dol-
lars more, saying that his mother’s letters showed that she
was more than fulfilling her part of the contract and he
wanted to somehow make acknowledgment of his satisfac-
tion in the arrangement, and henceforth her checks would be
three hundred and fifty. More and more his letters became
friendly. He sometimes wrote several pages of description
of a beautiful place he had visited, or a journey he had
taken, or a rare book he had found in his browsings in the
great libraries of Europe, for his reading was not all techni-
cal. And as often as Doris finished the reading of one of
these letters she had much ado to keep her heart from bound-
ing and her eyes from shining with pleasure at the friendli-
ness of them. As she came to know him through his letters
she grew more and more to respect him, and to find con-
cenial points of interest between him and herself, and she
often wondered how a girl like Tamar Engadine had en-
snared him.

Of course, it had not escaped her perception that there
was a possibility that the girl had not told the truth. She
had looked like an unscrupulous girl. Yet even if it were
true there might have been some quarrel between them
which would explain why Miss Engadine did not have Mac-
donald’s itinerary. However that may have been, Doris336 JOB’S NIECE

decided that it was probably all patched up between them
by this time. Doubtless Macdonald had written her now,
and she no longer needed to ask others for his address.
Nevertheless Tamar served her as a salutary tonic to keep
her from allowing her thoughts to stray into forbidden paths.

Not that Doris was a girl who was always looking for
some prince to take an interest in her, but Macdonald was a
man above most men, a friend whom any girl might desire
to have, and Doris from the start had made it plain to her-
self that her relation was to be purely a business one and
nothing more. There had never been a thought of any-
thing else in her mind till the coming of a fiancée made her
realize that there might have been danger in that way if she
had not been warned in time.

The truth about Tamar Engadine was that she did call up
Mrs. Macdonald late again that afternoon, after Doris had
left the house, but the wise maid gave the message as Doris
had told her, and Tamar was forced to betake herself to
Angus Macdonald’s office, where she met her equal in Mac-
donald’s courteous but wise young secretary. The lady was
told that Mr. Macdonald had left directions for all mail
to be sent first to the office for redirection, as his itinerary
was subject to constant change. Miss Engadine gained one
startling truth, however! Angus Macdonald had gone to
Europe for an indefinite stay and had not chosen either to
see her or to tell her he was going. Angus Macdonald must
be very angry indeed! And since visiting the Macdonald
home Tamar decided that she would be most foolish to let
a man of such wealth and attraction slip through her grasp.
Suppose he did have some ridiculous puritanical ideas?
What difference would they make after they were married?
He couldn’t help himself then.

So Tamar Engadine went home and announced her inten-
tion of going to Europe immediately.JOB’S NIECE 337

Mrs. Macdonald had never asked Doris about herself.
She had waited with true old-world courtesy for her to tell
what she wished, and Doris had gone on from day to day,
never mentioning her home or anything about her circum-
stances except that her father and mother were dead and she
had young brothers and sisters.

It was therefore somewhat of a surprise to have the maid
bring up a card late one morning bearing the name of Mrs.
Edward Dunbar.

Mrs. Macdonald looked at the card a moment, told the
maid she would come down, laid down a bit of knitting she
had been at work on, gave a touch to her lovely silver hair
and a brush to her pretty gray house-dress, and went down
to meet Zephyr.

Certainly Zephyr was like nothing that she had ever seen
before. She paused before the tall bold beauty and sur-
veyed her, and Zephyr gave her the full benefit of her china
blue-eyed baby stare.

Then she smiled, her dolly smile, as if someone had
pulled the string that worked it, and Mrs. Macdonald stood
soberly, with her cameo face and her old-world lady air, and
looked at her questioningly.

“Are you Mrs. Macdonal’?” questioned Zephyr noncha-
lantly.

“I am Mrs. Macdonald,” said the lady bringing out the
syllables distinctly.

“Well, ya aren’t so old as I thought you’d be, why I ast,”
giggled Zephyr. “My sister’n-law sent me. She wanted to
know, could you please let her have this month’s sal’ry ’n
‘advance. She’s got a man come with a bill he won’t wait
for. He’s settin’ in the house now, so she didn’t have th’
nerve to leave. She said she knew you’d ’commodate her,
an’ she couldn’t telephone ya ’cause the man would hear her,

so I offered to come in her place,”
22338 JOB’S NIECE

Mrs. Macdonald looked at Zephyr steadily, a growing
solemnity in her face. Her searching glance was keen and
read many things in the vapidly pretty face before her.

“Sit down,” said the lady. ‘Who did you say you were?”

“Oh, I can’t siddown,” said Zephyr manifesting by a fur-
tive chew the presence of gum in her mouth that had been
held in abeyance in her cheek. “I’m in an awful hurry. [I
gotta taxi down the road waiting for me. Why, I’m Ned's
wife. I’m Mrs. Dunbar.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know you,” said the lady. “Who is
this sister-in-law that you say is in my employ? I haven't
any maid by the name of Dunbar.”

“Oh, I don’t guess you call her a maid,” laughed Zephyr.
“T don’t know what she does. It’s Doris I mean. She
didn’t give another name, did she? She comes here every
day to work for you.”

“Oh, you’re quite mistaken,” said Mrs. Macdonald almost
haughtily. ‘Miss Doris Dunbar is merely my friend. She
is not in my employ. I am not aware that she is working
for anybody.”

The rhythm of the lovely jaws paused, and Zephyr stared
prettily:

“Gosh! Then she musta ben putting it over on us all
this time! She certainly told Ned she had a bigger salary
now, fifty bucks more a month! Three hundred and fifty
bucks a month. I said all the time I thought she had some
salted down somewhere; and I’d bet anything she was just
a tightwad and didn’t wantta give us any more!”

Suddenly Zephyr looked up and there stood Doris, stand-
} ing in the doorway!CHAPTER OOVit

“ZEPHYR! What are you doing here?”

Doris’ voice was calm, cold, like a knife. How much she
had heard of the conversation Zephyr could not be sure.
Her airy manner suddenly left her and the sullen look came
down upon her. She ignored Mrs. Macdonald as if she had
not been there.

“Hello, Doris, thought you’d hang one on us, didn’t ya?”
she remarked contemptuously. “Ned an’ I ain’t so dumb as
you think. I knew you had plenty of dough Z

Mrs. Macdonald arose suddenly.

“Perhaps you would like to be left alone together,” she
said with exquisite courtesy to Doris and glided out of the
room.

“Zephyr, you may go out and get into my car,” said Doris
when she had gained sufficient control over her voice to
speak. “I will take you home as soon as I have excused
myself to Mrs. Macdonald. Go! Or I will call the butler
to make you!”’

Doris was not afraid of Zephyr though she was almost
a head taller than herself and strong and athletic. She
knew that the Macdonald force of servants were at her call.
But she was ashamed. Somehow Zephyr amid these sur-
roundings seemed more impossible than ever before, and
she could not be sure how much she had said before she en- *
tered.

But Zephyr had no mind to linger:

“Oh, ya needn’t trouble yerself. I gotta taxi of my own.
339340 JOB’S NIECE

I wouldn’t ride in yer little tin can ef I hadta foot it all the
way ta tha city. But don’t ya fool yerself. I'll get even
with ya yet. You can’t double cross me ’ithout payin’ for
atl

Zephyr strode to the front door and went out and down
the wide gravel drive with head up and a swagger. Her
jaws had settled into the rhythm again. At least she was
no worse off than when she came. But that three hundred
and fifty bucks certainly would have made it easier to carry
out her plans. She wondered if Rose were at home, and if
there were any chance of finding anything hidden around
the Silver Ledge house. It might be worth trying. She
whistled softly and disappeared into the woods below the
curve of the hill, and presently there was the sound of a
motor far below on the drive.

Doris went slowly, solemnly up the stairs to Mrs. Mac-
donald’s morning-room, where they usually worked together
at this hour, and dropped into a chair with her face in her
hands.

The old lady was not in the room but she entered almost
immediately and came and laid her little warm rose-leaf hand
on the girl’s head softly.

“Don’t feel so badly, dear,” she said gently. “Tell me,
who is she?”

“She is a terrible girl that my young brother was fool
enough to marry!” said Doris, trying to keep her voice from
shaking. “She is—wun-speakable!”

“Poor boy!” said the lady thoughtfully. “Poor foolish
boy !”

There was silence in the room for a moment while Doris
tried to get her self-control. She felt weak as if she had
been through a terrible physical strain. Mrs. Macdonald
moved quietly over to her usual seat and took up her Bible

and her glasses as if nothing had happened. “There is justJOB’S NIECE 341

one question I would like to ask, dear,” she said, “and then
we will put it aside if you like. Does my son pay you a
salary for coming to see me?”

Doris felt cold chills creeping over her. Her throat
seemed suddenly to be in the grip of a great hand. She saw
her beautiful friendship disappearing into nothing. She
saw the displeasure of her employer. But it could not be
helped. She lifted honest eyes:

“Yes, Mrs. Macdonald, he does, but I long ago wished
that I had never accepted it, for the friendship has been so
beautiful to me that it seemed terrible to have had it marred
by a business arrangement. I am afraid you will think that
I have not been sincere. It would be harder than anything
else for me to lose this wonderful friendship of yours. I
would gladly continue without the salary if I may. I shall
of course have to find something else to do, and it may take
more of my time so that I cannot come so often, but I beg
you will not lose confidence in me. It was not my wish to
keep this matter from you. It was your son’s arrangement.”

The old lady smiled tenderly :

“T shall never lose my confidence in you, dear. I know
you now, and love you. And I know that my son did this
for my good. I knew of course long ago that it was utterly
unlikely that a girl of your age and charm would voluntarily
give as much time and interest to an old woman like me just
for the sake of myself, although I value your devotion
deeply, but I’ll confess I am a bit disappointed and cha-
grinned that the reason for your faithfulness which I had
assigned turns out to be a fancy of my own. I had hoped,
you see, that you were doing it if not exactly for love of me,
yet for love of my son Angus.”

Doris’ cheeks grew suddenly rosy and she dropped her
eyes, then lifted them again quickly, a warm glow still in her
face.342 JOB’S NIECE

“T shall always love you and come to see you as often as
you will let me,” she said. “But there is to be no more salary
for it after this month. I shall write your son to-night that
you know, and that now I can come to you as a friend with-
out a salary and shall get a job with hours that will also give
me time for you.”

“You precious child!” smiled the old lady, stooping to kiss
the smooth rosy cheek. “We'll see about that later. Mean-
time, hadn’t we better be getting the Bibles and pencils out?
It’s almost time for Mrs. Brooke to come, and the people
will be here presently.”

Rose Dunbar had been making fudge and salted almonds
and other fancy bonbons for a large concern in the city.
Every day for weeks as soon as Doris was out of the house
and Jean was off to school she had hurried around the kitchen
preparing her materials, and making up a great batch of
candies. By afternoon she had a stock ready, as much as
she could safely carry at a time, laid carefully in boxes
among wax paper, and packed in two big suit-cases. She
took the trolley to town, disposed of her wares at a pitifully
small profit and hurried back again to get dinner beiore
Doris and the children got home.

Slowly the sum in her jewel box in her bottom bureau
drawer was increasing, although it seemed to her it would
never reach two hundred and fifty dollars. She was hin-
dered a good deal in her secret plans while Florence was at
home before she was married, for Florence was always pop-
ping into the kitchen and asking what she was doing, so
that twice she had had to give up some of her precious fudge
to the family to keep her stepmother from suspecting what
she was doing, and for a time, before she got to going out so
much she had to give up making anything that would haveJOB’S NIECE 343

an odor, unless she also cooked onions or burned some gin-
gerbread to cover up the smell.

But since Florence was married, Jean in long sessions
at school and Doris away every afternoon to Bible classes,
she had made wonderful strides, and her hoard was mount-
ing up rapidly.

On the day that Zephyr visited Mrs. Macdonald Rose had
found that she lacked only seven dollars of the amount she
needed to repay her debt to Colonel Carruthers.

She worked hard and made an unusual amount of candy
and sweetmeats, adding some stuffed dates to her regular
products, and by five minutes of two she was packed and
ready waiting for the two o'clock car, her heart beating high
with hope that now soon she would be free from that hate-
ful debt that bound her to accept the unpleasant attentions
of a man she had grown both to hate and fear, and yet had
not dared to rebuff.

Five minutes after the car stopped and took Rose and her
suit-cases, a taxi drew up at the door of the Dunbar house.
Zephyr got out and pried around until she found a window
unfastened through which she climbed.

Half an hour later Zephyr came out holding a package
wrapped in newspaper, got into the taxi and drove away
again.

At five o’clock Rose alighted from the car, hurried into
the house and went to put her money away in the jewel case.
It was gone! Case and all! She looked all over the house,
thinking she must have carried it out of her room and for-
gotten it, but it was hopelessly gone. Rose was in despair.
While she was in the city she had telephoned Colonel Car-
ruthers that she would meet him and pay him the money that
evening. Now he would be at their regular rendezvous and
would be very angry if she did not come. Yet she was344 JOB’S NIECE

afraid to go empty-handed lest he would compel her to ride
with him. The last time he had taken her to ride they had
gone to a road-house and she did not like the way he acted.
The place was frequented by a vulgar class of people.
Rose, though she knew very little of the world, and was not
as sophisticated as she would have others believe, still had an
instinctive dread of the man and his ways.

She had been only three times to ride with him since the
incident of borrowing the money to redeem the ring, yet
each time she had been more alarmed than before, and more
resolved not to go with him again.

The rendezvous was down the road half a mile beyond
Silver Ledge, at the entrance of a pine woods. Rose’s plan
had been to profess to be going to bed early with a head-
ache and then to steal out the back door and into the woods.
It was going to be hard, but she had thought she could
manage it. But now, suddenly it seemed a terrible thing to
do, without the money to produce when she got there. With
tears streaming down her cheeks she caught up the telephone
and called Carruthers’ number. There was a chance that he
might still be there.

He was.

In a distressed voice she explained to him that her money
had been taken from its hiding place and she would be un-
able to give it to him that evening. She would perhaps find
it to-morrow and would then bring it in to the city to his
office.

3ut Colonel Carruthers gaily waved her plans aside. He
said if she would go to dinner with him that night she need
not pay the money ever, if she didn’t like. That he had a
special reason for wanting her with him that night. That
someone else who had promised to accompany him had been
taken sick and he was left without a companion at this din-
ner with some very nice people and he asked it as a specialJOB’S NIECE

favor. He said he would start at once and be at her house
in half an hour. He put it in such a way, with subtle re-
minders of her obligation to him, that Rose in her simplicity
dared not decline, and while she lingered and tried to think
of a sufficient excuse he said: “I'll be with you in thirty
minutes, my dear!” and hung up the receiver. The “my
| dear” lingered hatefully in the atmosphere and turned her
| sick as she hurried into her room and changed her dress to
be ready when he should come. She kept looking fearfully
from the window lest Jean would be coming sooner than she
expected, though the neighbor whose baby she tended did
not usually get home till five minutes of six. And what if
Doris should come sooner than usual! What should she do?

But Doris did not come, and Jean was safe at the neigh-
bor’s and the early dusk came down and hid the great high-
powered car as it drove up at the door. Rose had barely
time to scribble a note to Doris.

I may be late to-night, but don’t worry. I’m all right. Tell
you about it when I get back.
Rose.

Then she hurried out and was swallowed up in the night
beside the tall man who drove her swiftly and silently off
into the darkness.CHAPTER XXVIII

ANGUS MACDONALD was coming home. He telegraphed one
morning to his cousin Duncan Macdonald who had been plan-
ning for sometime to accompany him back to the States, that
he was leaving the next day for New York and if he wanted
to go he had better pack up and start at once.

Duncan was younger than Angus, a young Edinburgh
University graduate with the burr still upon his tongue, and
the crisp of the heather in his voice. He was long and lean
and blue of eye, with curly hair and hands that could strangle
a bear if he chose, and handsome withal, for a Scot. He
had as they say “a way wi’ him” and now he was coming to
visit his aunt and cousin, and see if he wanted to Jeave the
crags and moors of his native land.

It was somewhere on the mountain, near Cragsmoor, the
Macdonald home, that they heard the scream, and Angus
reached out and gripped the driver by the shoulder.

“Stop man! Listen!”

And then it came again, a piercing frightened scream!
Angus thought of Doris at once. He wondered how he had
thought any woman could drive a car in such a lonely road
at night? How had he dared suggest that she ever stay
late with his mother? But Duncan was out of the car be-
fore it stopped and off through the woods out of sight.

Angus, after vainly dashing about in this direction and
that, went back to the taxi and ordered the man to drive on
to the house and send the servants down with lights and his
own car, Then he listened and tramped about. Off in the
346JOB’S NIECE 347

distance he could hear sounds, a crackling of branches,
heavy footsteps, something like a falling body, and then all
was quiet.

The servants were so long in coming that Angus on a
dead run strode up the winding path and was at the house
before they fairly had his car ready to start.

His mother was at the door and he took her in his arms
for one quick embrace, then held her off and asked anx-
iously, “Where is Doris, mother? When did she leave the
Medica” ‘

“Why about five o’clock,’ she answered, a sudden light
coming into her eyes at the name he had called the girl.
“Why, my dear? You don’t think? Oh, my son! Go
quickly! But wait! We can telephone!”

But he did not hear her. He had jumped into his car and
was off around the drive and whirling past the astonished
taxi driver down into the dark of the woods.

Mrs. Macdonald went at once to the telephone, but could
get no answer at first and then a childish voice came ex-
citedly, as if the little girl had been crying:

“No, she isn’t here. No, I don’t think she has got back
yet. I just came in and found a note from Rose. She isn’t
here either. John is late too. He had to stay at the store
to-night for band practice. I’m all alone. M

Mrs. Macdonald hung up the telephone, after telling the
child to call her up as soon as Doris returned, and went and
sat down weakly. It seemed to her that her strength was
gone out with her son hunting for the girl she loved as dearly
as if she had been her own daughter.

Angus Macdonald went tearing down the mountain with-
out regard to anything but getting on and did not stop his
high speed until he whirled down the road in sight of the
Dunbar house with its one little light which Jean had set in
the window. And then, suddenly he saw a slender little348 JOB’S NIECE

figure standing in the road, with a white hand on her heart,
as if she were frightened, stepping aside to let him pass,
peering at him to see if he were alone.

He recognized her outline through the dusk and stopped
so suddenly that it almost threw him off his seat,—and he
was out beside her.

“Doris, is this you? You are not hurt? Oh, my dear
child! I thought it was you!’ And suddenly his arms
closed around her, and Doris, wondering, frightened, yet
knowing her own when it came to her like that, yielded her-
self to his arms, crying softly:

“Oh, Angus! Is it you?”

And then his lips found hers.

“I love you! I love you!” he breathed softly between the
kisses. “I ought not to have been so abrupt about it, Doris,
but I think I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you. Can
you ever love me?”

And Doris suddenly struggling back to propriety laughed
and surrendered again, and signified she could.

They came to themselves presently and Doris said, “Oh,
I forgot, Rose is lost! I’m worried sick. I don’t know what
to do!”

“Rose? And who is Rose,” said the tall man with a pro-
tecting arm about her.

“My sister, Rose. She is only seventeen and such a pretty
little girl. I’m so frightened!”

“We'll find her!” said Angus reassuringly, his heart sud-
denly sinking at the memory of that scream upon the moun-
tain. “How long ago did she go out? Come, we'll get into
the car!”

“But my little sister is all alone at home!” cried Doris.
“Oh, I don’t know what to do.”

“We'll go back and get her, and telephone for help. I’veJOB’S NIECE 349

a cousin—must be at the house by this time, and we'll go out
and scour the mountain G

But suddenly two long bright lights shot down the road,
illuminating the spot where they stood, a car dashed past
them and stopped as suddenly before the Dunbar house.

Duncan Macdonald had made straight for the scream
when he disappeared into the woods, and he made short work
of hauling a big handsome man from a car that stood on a
mountain trail with dimmed lights. Then he turned to find
that the girl had fled.

He gave a twist and a thud to the gentleman on the ground
that he knew would keep him safely asleep for a few minutes
and followed the girl who fled like a deer ahead of him. A
fallen tree brought her down in a minute and she lay like a
broken lily almost at his feet. He had to catch hold of a
tree not to step on her, and he picked her up and strode back
to che car, put her in it, with gentle hand, jumped in and
backed the car cautiously out and down the trail. He
wouldn’t have been a Macdonald if he couldn’t have handled
any strange bit of machinery well after a try or two. In
a trice they were down in the open road.

Then he turned his attention to the girl, and found she was
more frightened than hurt. He turned on the lights and she
looked in his face and he in hers.

“Bless my soul!’ he exclaimed with the pleasant Scotch
burr on his tongue. ‘“‘You’re a beauty and sure! You've a
face like a flower. Findings is keepings. Where do you
live? We'll go home and ask your folks may I have you?
I hope you don’t love any other lad.”

For Duncan Macdonald had the dare of his ancestors, who
fought for a lady, and he believed in going boldly after what
he wanted.

Rose stared, and smiled for she saw he was half in fun,350 JOB’S NIECE

and then she was not afraid any longer. She told him the
way to go and she added:

“Oh, go quick, please! He'll be very angry, and I don't
want to ever see his face again! I hate him!”

“Don’t worry,” said the Scotch giant, “he'll not be coming
this path very soon, I’m thinking, and when he does he'll
foot it for we’ve got his car.”

“Oh, how will you get it back?” wailed Rose. “They'll
arrest you!”

“Let them arrest!” roared the Scot. “There'll be more
than one arrested then, I’m thinking. Now, tell me about it.”

She told him. Briefly, but clearly. She told him in a
word or two of her long bondage under a small debt, and her
loss at the moment when she thought she had reached the end.
And then she told him of the creature who had insisted that
she take this ride—this one more ride—and he would never
trouble her again.

And by the time she reached this point Rose was crying
softly against Duncan Macdonald’s coat sleeve, and he
reached around and held her within his arm as he drove
along through the night. And the queerness of it all was
that Rose Dunbar never realized there was anything strange
about it at all for her to be comforted so, because she seemed
to have known Duncan Macdonald all her life.

“He'll never trouble you again, I’m thinking,” said Duncan
in his nicest roar. “If he tries I’ll take him out on the moun-
tain and wallop him so he'll never see out of his two eyes
again. Now is this the house? And who is this getting out
of another car? Blest if it isn’t my cousin Angus with his
arm around another girl. Were there two of you? And
which have I got? Just so it’s you, for I never saw another
one I wanted, and it’s me for the States till I can take you
back with me, so you better be resigned.”

Late that night or rather early in the morning, when theJOB’S NIECE 351

children were in bed and asleep, and the two cousins had
been persuaded to go home up the mountain to their bed
and the mother who was waiting, Rose and Doris sat down
and looked at one another smiling:

“Well,” said Rose, “you look as if you had seen a great
light. I guess you don’t belong to Job’s family any longer.”

“T have!” said Doris with shining eyes. “And I’ve found
out that all Job’s troubles were just to try him out for the
blessings that were to come. And oh, Rose! It’s going to
be so wonderful! He wants you all to come and live
with them up there in that beautiful home, with his pre-
cious mother! I love her as if she were my own.”

“That’s very nice!” mused Rose with pink cheeks flushing
pinker. “But,” with a toss of the long dark lock over her
eyes, “I may go to Scotland myself,—for a while—although
I think we’ll come back—eventually.”

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