o; she'll turn up."

"Nothing will happen to her, she's too smart," commented Mrs. Page.

They took their departure shortly. Mrs. Bryce ordered the cook to hold
back dinner. Then she let her vexation grow. It was outrageous that this
little pest should upset things so completely. She had been especially
anxious to impress this Mr. Christiansen, whom she had recently met. He
was a distinguished _litterateur_ and critic, as well as a stunning
giant of a man. The white lace gown had been entirely for his benefit.
And yet because of Isabelle he had been critical of her. Man-like he had
convictions about woman's job. He probably thought she should have been
running around the country, in hysterics, looking for her chee-ild.

At nine o'clock she heard the motor come to the door. She went into
the hall. Ann got out first and helped Wally. He was carrying the
heroine--asleep, in the utter relaxation of tired babyhood. She was
dirty, and her best hat dangled from its elastic, crushed and dusty.

"Well," remarked Mrs. Bryce, "where was she?"

"I'll take her up to the bedroom, Miss Barnes," Wally said, and he
started off.

"Really, Wally, Miss Barnes can certainly manage to get her to bed,"
protested Mrs. Bryce.

"She's rather heavy. I'll just----"

"Put her down and let her walk then. I've waited for my dinner as long
as I intend to."

Wally went on upstairs with his burden, and as Ann passed Mrs. Bryce
her scorn and hatred of that lace-clad lady was as obvious as a spoken
word. Mrs. Bryce went to the table and ordered her dinner. When Wally
joined her he looked "all in."

"I suppose you don't care whether she gets killed or not."

"Well, but she didn't get killed, so I don't have to excite myself, do
I?"

"You might show a little decent feeling before Miss Barnes."

"I don't have to please Miss Barnes--or any of my servants, if it comes
to that."

"You're a brute, Max!"

"If you're going to be tiresome, I'll finish my dinner upstairs," she
replied. "Heaven knows, if I'd had any idea you would be such a bore
about her, I'd never have turned her over to you."

"Do you know why she ran away? She went to find some 'regular parents'--so
she said."

"We don't suit then?" Mrs. Bryce laughed crisply.

"The poor little devil walked and walked, and when she was too tired to
go any farther she asked a milk wagon driver to give her a lift, so she
got away over to Rockville."

"Where did she get this idea about paren