the
ladies; but Tom Corey was at his elbow, saying, "I think Mrs. Lapham is
waiting for you below, sir," and in obeying the direction Corey gave
him toward another door he forgot all about his purpose, and came away
without saying good-night to his hostess.

Mrs. Lapham had not known how soon she ought to go, and had no idea
that in her quality of chief guest she was keeping the others. She
stayed till eleven o'clock, and was a little frightened when she found
what time it was; but Mrs. Corey, without pressing her to stay longer,
had said it was not at all late. She and Irene had had a perfect time.
Everybody had been very polite, on the way home they celebrated the
amiability of both the Miss Coreys and of Miss Kingsbury. Mrs. Lapham
thought that Mrs. Bellingham was about the pleasantest person she ever
saw; she had told her all about her married daughter who had married an
inventor and gone to live in Omaha--a Mrs. Blake.

"If it's that car-wheel Blake," said Lapham proudly, "I know all about
him. I've sold him tons of the paint."

"Pooh, papa! How you do smell of smoking!" cried Irene.

"Pretty strong, eh?" laughed Lapham, letting down a window of the
carriage. His heart was throbbing wildly in the close air, and he was
glad of the rush of cold that came in, though it stopped his tongue,
and he listened more and more drowsily to the rejoicings that his wife
and daughter exchanged. He meant to have them wake Penelope up and
tell her what she had lost; but when he reached home he was too sleepy
to suggest it. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow,
full of supreme triumph.

But in the morning his skull was sore with the unconscious, night-long
ache; and he rose cross and taciturn. They had a silent breakfast. In
the cold grey light of the morning the glories of the night before
showed poorer. Here and there a painful doubt obtruded itself and
marred them with its awkward shadow. Penelope sent down word that she
was not well, and was not coming to breakfast, and Lapham was glad to
go to his office without seeing her.

He was severe and silent all day with his clerks, and peremptory with
customers. Of Corey he was slyly observant, and as the day wore away
he grew more restively conscious. He sent out word by his office-boy
that he would like to see Mr. Corey for a few minutes after closing.
The type-writer girl had lingered too, as if she wished to speak with
him, and Corey stood in ab