t all, Mrs. Martin. You are doing your child harm, and you ought
to desist. If you continue to agitate him in this way the consequences
will be fatal."

Certainly an affray over Tommy's bed was not desirable; the more so that
no force at present available could expel the tenacious scientist.
Phillida, who somehow felt frightfully accountable for the state of
affairs, beckoned Mrs. Martin to the landing at the top of the stairs,
closing the door of the apartment behind them. But even there the hoarse
and piteous crying of Tommy rent the hearts of both of them.

"You must send for Mr. Millard," said Phillida. "He will have authority
with Mr. Martin, and he will know how to get rid of her," pointing
through the door in the direction in which they had left Miss Bowyer
bending over the patient.

"There is nobody to send," answered Mrs. Martin, in dismay.

"I will send," said Phillida. They re-entered the room, and Phillida put
on her sack in haste, seizing her hat and hurrying down the long flight
of stairs into Avenue C, where the sidewalks, steaming after the
yesterday's rain, were peopled by men on their way to work, and by women
and children seeking the grocery-stores and butcher-shops. Loiterers
were already gathering, in that slouching fashion characteristic of
people out of work, about the doors of the drinking-saloons; buildings
whose expensive up-fittings lent a touch of spurious grandeur to the
pinched and populous avenue.

XXXII.

FACE TO FACE.

Once in the street, Phillida's perplexities began. She had undertaken to
send for Millard, but there were no slow-footed district Mercuries to be
had in the Mackerelville part of New York. It was now barely half-past
six, and Millard would hardly have risen yet. In a battle against grim
death and Miss Bowyer time seemed all important. She therefore took a
Fourteenth street car and changed to an up-town line carrying her to the
vicinity of the Graydon, debating all the way how quickest to get an
explicit message to Millard without a personal interview, which would be
painful to both, and which might be misconstrued. Phillida alighted from
the car in the neighborhood of the Graydon, whose mountainous dimensions
deflected the March wind into sudden and disagreeable backsets and
whirling eddies that threatened the perpendicularity of foot-passengers.
She requested a florist, who was opening his shop and arranging a little
exhibition of the hardier in-door plant