ings for Martha Jane when she was a
tiny tot. It was likely, for there were several years between their
ages, and Joel seemed to be that sort of man.

When Dora was ready to retire he left her. "Are you afraid?" he asked
from the door.

She shook her head. "What is there to be afraid of?" she asked, with a
wan smile.

He returned in about an hour. He entered his room and peered cautiously
in at the connecting door. The light from his gas-jet fell on her bed.
She was awake.

"What is this?" he chided her. "Not asleep yet, and you all fagged out!
Ah, I see! No wonder. Your window is shut. It is as close in here as a
corked flask." He went in and opened her window. He thought the covering
over her was too heavy for such a warm night and drew the white coverlet
down below her feet. "There, there, that's better," he said. Her tangled
hair lay unbecomingly across her brow, and he wanted to brush it back,
but, conscious of a queer timidity, he refrained from doing so.

"I can't sleep for thinking," she suddenly said, with a touch of her old
bluntness. "You haven't said where we are going."

"Oh, that is it!" He laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Well, the truth is, little sister, I hadn't made up my mind fully. I
thought it might be Philadelphia, but I was looking over a newspaper
down-stairs and saw some notes about new developments in New York, and I
decided to go there."

"Oh, New York!" the child cried. "That is the biggest city in the
country. Old Roly-poly says the lid is always off up there, and--"

"Stop!" Not since leaving Ridgeville had John's tone been so sharp and
commanding. "Don't mention that man's name ever again, Sis. And another
thing! Let's agree between us never to speak of any of it again--not to
each other or to anybody else. Do you understand? I want all of it
buried forever in a grave as deep as from here to the middle of the
earth."

"Not your ma, nor Aunt Jane--?"

"No, no!" he said, fiercely.

"Nor Tilly?"

"No, never--under any circumstances. If people want to know about us,
send them to me--or simply say we are orphans, father and mother both
dead. John and Dora Trott. You understand now, don't you?"

The little tousled head moved wearily on the big pillow. She did not
understand his far-seeing policy, but it didn't matter. He knew best.

There was a rap on the door. Opening it, he admitted a waiter with a
tray containing some steaming milk-toast. "I forgot ordering it,