voice outside: "Fall back; don't
block up the door! Get back there!" The excitement was so great that the
proceedings of the board were stopped.

The throng parted, The men near the table stood still. An ominous
silence suddenly prevailed. Daniel McGaw twisted his head, turned
ghastly white, and would have fallen from his chair but for Dempsey.

Advancing through the door with slow, measured tread, her long cloak
reaching to her feet; erect, calm, fearless; her face like chalk; her
lips compressed, stifling the agony of every step; her eyes deep sunken,
black-rimmed, burning like coals; her brow bound with a blood-stained
handkerchief that barely hid the bandages beneath, came Tom.

The deathly hush was unbroken. The men fell back with white, scared
faces to let her pass. McGaw cowered in his chair. Dempsey's eyes
glistened, a half-sigh of relief escaping him. Crimmins had not moved;
the apparition stunned him.

On she came, her eyes fixed on the president, till she reached the
table. Then she steadied herself for a moment, took a roll of papers
from her dress, and sank into a chair.

No one spoke. The crowd pressed closer. Those outside the rail
noiselessly mounted the benches and chairs, craning their necks. Every
eye was fixed upon her.

Slowly and carefully she unrolled the contract, spreading it out before
her, picked up a pen from the table, and without a word wrote her name.
Then she rose firmly, and walked steadily to the door.

Just then a man entered within the rail and took her seat. It was her
bondsman, Mr. Crane.

XVI. A FRIEND IN NEED

Two days after Tom had signed the highway contract, Babcock sat in his
private office in New York, opening his mail. In the outside room
were half a dozen employees--engineers and others--awaiting their
instructions.

The fine spring weather had come and work had been started in every
direction, including the second section of the sea-wall at the depot,
where the divers were preparing the bottom for the layers of concrete.
Tom's carts had hauled the stone.

Tucked into the pile of letters heaped before him, Babcock's quick eye
caught the corner of a telegram. It read as follows:--

Mother hurt. Wants you immediately. Please come.

JENNIE GROGAN.

For an instant he sat motionless, gazing at the yellow slip. Then he
sprang to his feet. Thrusting his unopened correspondence into his
pocket, he gave a few hurried i