er months replenishing her own and her mother's wardrobe. Mrs. Webb
did the work of the flat, assisted by an Irish maiden who came in by the
day: there was no place in the flat for her to sleep.

Andrew was the idol of the family. He supported them, and he was a
thoroughly good fellow; he had no bad habits, and they had never seen
him angry. His neighbors were regularly made acquainted with the proud
fact that he walked home from his office in lower Broadway every
afternoon in the year, "except Sundays and during his vacation," as his
mother would add. She was a conscientious woman. Moreover, they thought
him very handsome. He was five feet ten, lean, and athletic in
appearance. It is true that his head was narrow and his face cast in a
heavy mould; but there was no superfluous flesh in his cheeks, and his
thick skin was clean. Like his sister, he managed to dress well. He was
obliged to buy his clothes ready-made, but he had the gift of selection.

When the subtle change came, his mother and sister uneasily confided to
each other the fear that he was in love. As the years passed, however,
and he brought them no new demand upon their affections and resources,
they ceased to worry, and finally to wonder. Andrew was not the old
Andrew; but, if he did not choose to confide the reason, his reserve
must be respected. And at least it had affected neither his generosity
nor his good temper. He still spent his evenings at home, listened to
his mother or Polly read aloud, and never missed the little supper of
beer and crackers and cheese before retiring.

II

One morning, while Webb was still one with his little family, he read,
as was usual with him on the long ride down-town, his Harlem edition of
one of the New York dailies. He finished the news, the editorials, the
special articles: nothing was there to upset the equilibrium of his
life. His attention was attracted, as he was about to close the paper,
by a long leaded "story" of a ball given the night before by some people
named Webb. Their superior social importance was made manifest by the
space and type allotted them, by the fact that their function was not
held over for the Sunday issue, and by the imposing rhetoric of the
head-lines.

Andrew read the story with a feeling of personal interest. From that
moment, unsuspected by himself, the readjustment of his mind to other
interests began--the divorce of his inner life from the simple
conditions of his youth.

Th