and sweep aside the debris.

"Nothing is really hurt, but they always mess things up," Steve said,
coming to the doorway to hold up a precious record book. "See this? I
wonder why they always leave such a lot of stuff to clear away. Now
the whole extent of damage is the destroying of that rickety side
stairway that is never used and could have been done away with long
ago. Some boys, playing craps and smoking, left the makings of the
fire and before it touched these rooms there was water poured into the
whole plant. As a consequence, we have a three-day vacation and
instead of having the side stairs torn down I'm in line for a chunk of
insurance."

"Even the tea isn't spilled from my caddy," Mary answered; "Look."

"Wonder what they used this side stairway for? It was rickety when I
bought the place." He looked at the blackened remains of steps.

"I don't know," Mary answered, absent-mindedly. She could have added
that whenever she looked at those stairs or their closed door she saw
but one thing--Steve on his wedding day as he came stealing up to ask
about the long-distance telephone call, aglow with happiness and
dreams. For her own reasons, therefore, Mary did not regret the
destruction of the side stairs.

"They've shoved this cabinet over as if they had a special antagonism
to it," he was saying, righting a small piece of furniture containing
mostly Mary's papers. "There--not hurt, is it? Do the drawers open?"
He began pulling them out, one after another. The last refused to
open.

"What's in this one--it blocks the spring?"

Mary tried her hand at it. "Something wedged right at the edge. I'm
sure I don't see what it can be. I never used that drawer for anything
but----"

At their combined jerk the drawer came flying into space, and with it
the remains of a white cardboard box with the monograms of B. C. and
S. O. entwined by means of a cupid and a tiny wreath of flowers. Dried
cake crumbs lay in the bottom of the drawer. It was the Gorgeous
Girl's box of wedding cake which Mary Faithful had found on her desk.

Neither spoke immediately. Finally Mary said: "I suppose that's as bad
an omen as to break a mirror under a ladder on Friday the thirteenth.
Now shall I have the men sweep the office out? There is no reason we
cannot get to work to-morrow."

"Wait a moment about sweeping out offices and going to work," Steve
insisted. "If you want to break the hoodoo you have just brought on
yourself by smashi