d Anderson's company," in
the heavy sprawling scrawl which she knew must have come from the
Judge's own pen.

Suddenly her two hands flashed out and swept the card up to crush it
against her with passionate impetuosity.

"Oh, you wonderful thing!" she crooned over it, a low laugh that was
half a sob bubbling in her throat. "You wonderful thing! And to think
that I've had you all the afternoon--almost all day--and he's had to
wait all this time for his to come. He's had to wait for Jerry to
bring his with the mail--and Jerry is so dreadfully slow at times."

Lingeringly, as though she hated to hide it, her fingers thrust the
card back inside its envelope. And she was tucking it away in its warm
hiding place within the scant fullness of the white blouse when the
clock on the wall behind her began to beat out the hour with a noisy
whir of loosened cogs.

"Hours and hours," she murmured, counting the strokes subconsciously.

And then as the growing total of those gong strokes beat in upon her
brain, all the dreamy preoccupation faded from her face. The little
compassionate smile which had accompanied the last words disappeared
before the swift, taut change that straightened her lips. She whirled,
peering from startled eyes up at the dim old dial, refusing to
believe her own count; and as she stood, body tensely poised, gazing
incredulously at the hands, she realized for the first time how fast
the hours had flown while she bent, forgetful of all else, over her
paper patterns.

The table rocked dangerously as she crowded her body between it and
the windowsill and, back to the light, stood staring with her face
cupped in her hands out into the blackness. Far across the valley the
dilapidated farmhouse on the ridge showed only a blurred blot against
the skyline.

Minutes the girl stood and watched. The minutes lengthened interminably
while the light for which she waited failed to show through the
dark, until a dead white, living fear began to creep across her face--a
fear that wiped the last trace of childishness from her tightened
features.

"He's late," she whispered hoarsely. "It's the last week, and it's
just kept him later than usual!"

But there was no assurance in the words that faltered from her lips.
They were lifelessly dull, as though she were trying to convince
herself of a thing she already knew she could not believe.

As long as she could she stood there at the window, doggedly fighting
the rising t