at she was ill. She
ought--oh, she ought to have done a dozen things that she had not
done! Now it was too late.

But no, it mustn't be too late! She would find out where Sadie was. It
ought to be easy, for the verdict which had sent the girl away from
the Hands must have been that of a young doctor who attended the
employees. There were certain hours when he came to the hospital room
which Win had seen on her first day at Peter Rolls's. One of these
hours was just before the opening of the shop. Perhaps he hadn't yet
got away.

The floorwalker who controlled Mantles was one of the smartest men in
any department, somewhat of a martinet, but inclined to be reasonable
with those who had any "gumption." Miss Child had gumption, and though
it was nearly time for the public to rush in (there was a bargain sale
that day) he gave her a permit of absence.

"Nothing worse than a headache, I hope, takes you to the H.R.?" he
questioned, scrawling his powerful name. "We need everybody to get
busy to-day."

"I'm going to beg for some _sal volatile_," answered Win, and
determined to do so, as even white fibs were horrid little things,
almost as horrid as cowardly, scuttling black beetles.

Poor Sadie had giggled the other night: "You stick even to the _truth_
this hot weather!"

The doctor had not gone, but he did not know of the new place Sadie
referred to, and, not knowing, didn't believe in its existence. He had
told Sadie Kirk yesterday that her lungs were infected and that she
had become "contagious." Of course she had had to be discharged. These
things were sad, but they were a part of the day's work. It was a pity
that Miss Kirk hadn't been longer with the Hands. Her insurance money
wouldn't amount to much.

"Do you mean to say that they've sent her away to die and haven't
given her anything?" Win gasped.

"Not to die, I hope," said young Dr. Marlow. "She's curable. But she
wouldn't get more than a week's salary with her discharge, I'm afraid.
Old Saint Peter isn't in this business for his health."

"Or for any one else's," the girl retorted.

Marlow shrugged his shoulders, bowed slightly to the pretty but
unreasonable young woman, and went away.

Winifred also should have gone. She had got her _sal volatile_ and her
information. But life was lying in ruins around her--Sadie's life, if
not her own--and she did not know how to set about reconstructing it.

"What man does she love who loves another girl?" she ask