tween them, drew herself up and saluted Mrs. Fike's back, winked at
Una amicably, and for five steps imitated Mrs. Fike's aggressive stride.

"Yes, I would be glad to come here!" Una said, cheerfully, to Mrs. Fike,
who looked at her suspiciously, but granted: "Well, we'll look up your
references. Meantime, if you like--or don't like, I suppose--you might
talk to a Mrs. Esther Lawrence, who wants a room-mate."

"Oh, I don't think I'd like a room-mate."

"My dear young lady, this place is simply full of young persons who
would like and they wouldn't like--and forsooth we must change every
plan to suit their high and mighty convenience! I'm not at all sure that
we shall have a single room vacant for at least six months, and of
course--"

"Well, could I talk to Mrs.--Lawrence, was it?"

"Most assuredly. I _expect_ you to talk to her! Come with me."

Una followed abjectly, and the matron seemed well pleased with her
reformation of this wayward young woman. Her voice was curiously anemic,
however, as she rapped on a bedroom door and called, "Oh, Mrs.
Lawrence!"

A husky, capable voice within, "Yeah, what is 't?"

"It's Mrs. Fike, deary. I think I have a room-mate for you."

"Well, you wait 'll I get something on, will you!"

Mrs. Fike waited. She waited two minutes. She looked at a wrist-watch in
a leather band while she tapped her sensibly clad foot. She tried again:
"We're _waiting_, deary!"

There was no answer from within, and it was two minutes more before the
door was opened.

Una was conscious of a room pleasant with white-enameled woodwork; a
denim-covered couch and a narrow, prim brass bed, a litter of lingerie
and sheets of newspaper; and, as the dominating center of it all, a
woman of thirty, tall, high-breasted, full-faced, with a nose that was
large but pleasant, black eyes that were cool and direct and
domineering--Mrs. Esther Lawrence.

"You kept us waiting so long," complained Mrs. Fike.

Mrs. Lawrence stared at her as though she were an impudent servant. She
revolved on Una, and with a self-confident kindliness in her voice,
inquired, "What's your name, child?"

"Una Golden."

"We'll talk this over.... Thank you, Mrs. Fike."

"Well, now," Mrs. Fike endeavored, "be sure you both are satisfied--"

"Don't you worry! We will, all right!"

Mrs. Fike glared at her and retired.

Mrs. Lawrence grinned, stretched herself on the couch, mysteriously
produced a cigarette, and asked, "Smoke?"

"