ess silence, Edith broke in with the story as
she felt she knew it. Union Square, the discharged shopgirl, John's
quixotic conduct. And John watched Mary with a lover's eye. He had not
intended that she should be involved. A moment of her displeasure, even
upon mistaken grounds, was no part of his idea of a joke.

But there was no displeasure in Mary's lovely face.

"Why, of course, he brought her home," she echoed Edith's indignant
peroration. "What else could he do?"

"Well, for one thing he could have taken her to the Margaret Louise
Home, that branch of the Y.W.C.A., on Sixteenth Street, only a few
blocks from where he found her."

"Oh! Edith," Mary remonstrated. "The Maggie Lou! And you know they would
not admit her. Who would take a friendless girl to any sort of an
institution at this season? John couldn't have done it! I think he's an
old dear to bring her right straight home. Let's go down and talk to
her. She must be wondering why we all leave her so long alone."

"No, you don't," said Dick. "Edith didn't tell you the whole story. The
girl," and he drew himself up to a dignity based on John's, "is under
_my_ protection."

"Your protection!" repeated his amazed sister.

"Precisely. _My_ protection. Edith declines to receive this helpless
child. Therefore, I have offered her the shelter of my roof."

"His roof," explained Mary to Mrs. Sedyard, "is the floor of the hall
bedroom above his. It measures about nine by six. So the thing to do,
since of course, Dick is only talking nonsense, is to let me take the
girl around to the studio until John and I can plan an uninstitutional
future for her."

"You may do just as you please," said Edith coldly. "I have given my
opinion as to what should be done with her. It has been considered, by
persons more experienced than you, the opinion of an expert. Girls of
her history and standards are not desirable inmates for well-ordered
homes. I shall have nothing to do with her."

"How about it, Mary?" asked her brother. "Are you willing to risk her in
the high-art atmosphere of the studio?"

"I'm glad to," Mary answered. "It's not often that one gets a chance of
being a little useful, and doesn't the Christmas Carol say, 'Good will
to men.' I'm going down to see her now."

"You're a darling," cried John. "True blue right through. Now, we'll all
go down and arrange the transfer. But, first, I want to give Edith one
more chance. Do you finally and unreservedly--"

"