rs. Wilkinson, with a
smile. "I may not have inherited all father's talent for finance,
Charlie, but there are one or two things I know enough not to do, and
that is one of them."

"Madam," said her husband, sternly, "there is in your speech a hint of
definite purpose which is at once encouraging and disquieting to me.
May I ask if your plan contemplates the labor of your consort? Do I
make myself clear? In other words, are you suggesting that I shall go
to work?"

"It may come to that," smiled his wife.

"Well, well! Charles Wilkinson a wage earner!" He shook his head
silently, and the trio walked on.

It had been arranged that Helen was to dine with them. The sudden
marriage, which had been forced by a swift access of hostility on the
part of John M. Hurd, had left little time for preparations, but the
dinner was merry enough, and the health of the bride and groom was
pledged with the utmost fidelity to tradition; and after that, Charles
and Isabel escorted their guest home, and left her at the door of the
apartment on Deerfield Street.

Mrs. Maitland found her daughter but silent company the rest of that
evening, and at a comparatively early hour the Maitland apartment grew
dark. In Mrs. Maitland's room all was quiet, and in due course,
presumably, sleep; but Helen found that slumber was alien to her eyes.
So, opening her window to the little breeze that came hinting of summer
although speaking of spring, she looked out wide-eyed into the starry
night.

It was warm, even for the time of year, and the cool breath of the
ocean which Boston knows so well was not in the air. Instead the
breeze moved slowly in from the westward, bringing the imagined odor of
apple blossoms from unseen orchards. The city's sounds were dying to a
mere rumor of sound. Now and again a light went out suddenly in some
window of a near-by building; the reflection of the street lamps on the
night became more and more clear. For a long time Helen gazed out into
the darkness.

Across the water to the northward shone the lights on the Cambridge
shore. Seeing them her memory went back to the time when first she had
really seen New York by night. Smith had volunteered to show her the
night city as it should be seen, and never was she to free her
imagination from the sight. They had gone first to the South Ferry, in
the gathering dusk, and taking boat for Brooklyn had witnessed from its
rear deck the golden pageant of the thousa