nowledge of machinery has been acquired from the
clothes-washer at home. Joe Drummond, eyes carefully ahead, went up the
Street. Tillie, at Mrs. McKee's, stood in the doorway and fanned herself
with her apron. Max Wilson came out of the house and got into his car.
For a minute, perhaps, all the actors, save Carlotta and Dr. Ed, were on
the stage. It was that bete noir of the playwright, an ensemble; K. Le
Moyne and Sidney, Palmer Howe, Christine, Tillie, the younger Wilson,
Joe, even young Rosenfeld, all within speaking distance, almost touching
distance, gathered within and about the little house on a side street
which K. at first grimly and now tenderly called "home."

CHAPTER X

On Monday morning, shortly after the McKee prolonged breakfast was over,
a small man of perhaps fifty, with iron-gray hair and a sparse goatee,
made his way along the Street. He moved with the air of one having a
definite destination but a by no means definite reception.

As he walked along he eyed with a professional glance the ailanthus and
maple trees which, with an occasional poplar, lined the Street. At the
door of Mrs. McKee's boarding-house he stopped. Owing to a slight change
in the grade of the street, the McKee house had no stoop, but one flat
doorstep. Thus it was possible to ring the doorbell from the pavement,
and this the stranger did. It gave him a curious appearance of being
ready to cut and run if things were unfavorable.

For a moment things were indeed unfavorable. Mrs. McKee herself opened
the door. She recognized him at once, but no smile met the nervous one
that formed itself on the stranger's face.

"Oh, it's you, is it?"

"It's me, Mrs. McKee."

"Well?"

He made a conciliatory effort.

"I was thinking, as I came along," he said, "that you and the neighbors
had better get after these here caterpillars. Look at them maples, now."

"If you want to see Tillie, she's busy."

"I only want to say how-d 'ye-do. I'm just on my way through town."

"I'll say it for you."

A certain doggedness took the place of his tentative smile.

"I'll say it to myself, I guess. I don't want any unpleasantness, but
I've come a good ways to see her and I'll hang around until I do."

Mrs. McKee knew herself routed, and retreated to the kitchen.

"You're wanted out front," she said.

"Who is it?"

"Never mind. Only, my advice to you is, don't be a fool."

Tillie went suddenly pale. The hands with which she tied a whi