peated once more her set formula of reproof, "Oh, Zura! I no
understand yo' naughty; I no like yo' bad."

The homeless girl, Page, and I were left in the darkness.

"Come with me, Zura," I said, not knowing what else to do; and the three
of us made our way toward the high twinkling light that marked the House
of the Misty Star.

As the boy walked beside her, hatless, tie and collar disarranged, I
could but see what his defense of Zura had cost him in physical
strength. His face twitched with the effort to control his shaking
limbs; that strange illness had robbed him of so much.

"Please, Mr. Hanaford, do not trouble to climb the steps with us," I
urged. "There is no danger. By now the crowd is doubtless laughing over
the whole thing."

"No, Miss Jenkins," he said, "I cannot leave you till you are safely
shut in the house. Rather interesting, wasn't it?"

"Interesting! Well, I guess I know now what making a night of it means."

It was my one attempt to lighten conversation. We went on in silence.

Wordless my other companion walked beside me. She gave no sign. Only
once, when I stumbled, the hand she outstretched in quick support was
shaking and cold.

On reaching the house Page declined to come in; but, seeing the knuckles
of his right hand torn and bleeding, I would take no refusal. "Boy, your
hand is bleeding. Come right in and let me dress it," said I.

"Don't trouble. It's nothing; only a bit of knocked-up skin. That coolie
must have sharpened his teeth for the occasion."

Zura spoke for the first time as I made the room light. "Oh! I didn't
know you were hurt, Mr. Hanaford. I am sorry. Let me see." She took his
hand in both of hers and held it closer under the lamp. Still holding
it, she lifted her eyes with sympathy to his. "I'm not worth it," she
said softly.

I did not hear Page's answer; but I thought he was almost gruff when he
quickly drew away and walked to the window. He had nothing to say when I
bandaged his hand, and he soon left.

It was only a matter of a few minutes to light the lamp and arrange the
bed in the guest-room I had taken such pleasure in preparing before for
Zura's visit. I went through these small duties without speaking. I bore
no ill will to the girl who had been thrust upon me. My thoughts were
too deep for anger against the wayward child whose start in life had
been neither fair nor just. But in separating herself from her family
she had done the most serious thing a gi