d. 'If it was she, she's gone out to my place, and
she will tell my wife.'

"Then I remembered that Mrs. Milner did not have my country address,
and was comforted.

"But I had been extremely agitated, and now my shattered nervous system
went back on me so completely that I practically turned that
interesting female out.

"'The lady may come back at any moment,' I said. 'Here are the
keys--this one for the outer door, this one for the studio. Don't let
her find you with me in this place.'

"I gave the widow the keys, and she left, saying that she would make a
call on someone who had promised her employment, and that she would not
annoy me further. She was extremely grateful for my kindness, and all
that.

"I hurried her out; and, after a while, settled down to my desk, and
worked through the evening--worked hard, to keep from worrying over the
whereabouts of Mrs. Milner, alone in that great city.

"Mrs. Milner quite failed to appear; but, at eleven o'clock the other
one came. I heard her in the hall, fumbling at the keyhole of Bunker's
door, and went out.

"'This key will not unlock the door,' she said, and I joined her.

"Trying the key, I found that it did not fit--in fact, that it was a
key shaped differently from all other door-keys in that building; and I
knew that the befuddled Bunker had made a mistake.

"'He gave you the right key for the street-door,' the widow whimpered;
'why did he give the wrong one for this door?'

"'Drunk,' I growled. 'Come in, and we'll talk it over.'

"'Oh, I cannot,' she complained. 'To think of it! the terrible position
I am in! Oh, to think of it!'

"'Don't think of it,' I answered; 'it's all right. Don't think of it,
and don't talk of it. I'll say nothing, and I'll go home as soon as
I've finished the page I'm on. Come in and sit down.'

"I led her in, and sat her down, but her plaint would not cease. I
fancied there was a smell of liquor in the air, but I could not be sure
that it was not the clinging odor left by Bunker. I turned to my work,
and endeavored to write, but could not; for now her mood changed to one
of patronage, and she advised me upon my methods, my style of writing,
my manner of living. She promised to be a friend to me all her life.
She would help me to reform my rather slap-dash style of writing, and
to give it the literary touch, and she would help me in my punctuation.
She had made a study of my editorials, and knew all my weak points.

"All thi