er you didn't. The hotel people will
put me on the steamer very comfortably,--and there are other reasons
why I do not wish it." I did not insist.... On the afternoon of her
departure, when I came uptown, I found her pinning some roses on her
jacket.

"Perry and Lucia sent them," she informed me. She maintained the
friendly, impersonal manner to the very end; but my soul, as we drove
to the train, was full of un-probed wounds. I had had roses put in
her compartments in the car; Tom and Susan Peters were there with more
roses, and little presents for the children. Their cheerfulness seemed
forced, and I wondered whether they suspected that Maude's absence would
be prolonged.

"Write us often, and tell us all about it, dear," said Susan, as she
sat beside Maude and held her hand; Tom had Biddy on his knee. Maude was
pale, but smiling and composed.

"I hope to get a little villa in France, near the sea," she said. "I'll
send you a photograph of it, Susan."

"And Chickabiddy, when she comes back, will be rattling off French like
a native," exclaimed Tom, giving her a hug.

"I hate French," said Biddy, and she looked at him solemnly. "I wish you
were coming along, Uncle Tom."

Bells resounded through the great station. The porter warned us off. I
kissed the children one by one, scarcely realizing what I was doing. I
kissed Maude. She received my embrace passively.

"Good-bye, Hugh," she said.

I alighted, and stood on the platform as the train pulled out. The
children crowded to the windows, but Maude did not appear.... I found
myself walking with Tom and Susan past hurrying travellers and porters
to the Decatur Street entrance, where my automobile stood waiting.

"I'll take you home, Susan," I said.

"We're ever so much obliged, Hugh," she answered, "but the street-cars
go almost to ferry's door. We're dining there."

Her eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed taller, more ungainly
than ever--older. A sudden impression of her greatness of heart was
borne home to me, and I grasped the value of such rugged friendship as
hers--as Tom's.

"We shouldn't know how to behave in an automobile," he said, as though
to soften her refusal. And I stood watching their receding figures as
they walked out into the street and hailed the huge electric car that
came to a stop beyond them. Above its windows was painted "The Ashuela
Traction Company," a label reminiscent of my professional activities.
Then I heard the chauff