ne, "he went this way,
I think."

"There's some Hunts across the street there," the girl suggested,
"right hand flat, second floor. I seen the name once. I guess
you're lost all right, ain't you?"

"Oh, no," Caroline assured her, "I'm not lost. I can go right back.
I'll see if Hunt's there."

The threshold was greasy and worn, the stairs covered with faded oil
cloth, the side walls defaced and over-scrawled. At the head of the
stairs three dingy doors opened in three different directions, and a
soiled card on the middle one bore the name of Hunt. A man's voice
somewhere behind it talked in a strange loud sing-song; he seemed to
be telling a long, confusing story. At the moment of Caroline's
timid knock he was saying over and over again,

"Isn't that so? Isn't that so? Who wouldn't have done the same? Put
your finger on the place where I made the mistake! Will you? Will
anybody? I ask it as a favor--"

"Hush, won't you?" a woman's voice interrupted, "wasn't that a
knock?"

Caroline knocked again.

There was a hasty shuffling and a key turned in the door.

"Who is it?" the woman's voice asked. "What do you want? The
auction's all over--there's nothing left. We're moving out
to-morrow."

Surprise held Caroline dumb. How could one have an auction in such a
place? At auctions there were red flags, and horses and carriages
gathered around the house, and people brought luncheon; they had
often driven to auctions out in the country.

The door opened.

"Why it's only a child!" said the woman, thin and fatigued, with
dark rings under her not ungentle eyes. "What do you want here?"

"I'm looking for Hunt," Caroline answered, "doesn't he live here?"

"Heavens, no!" the woman said, "that old card's been there long
before we moved in, I guess. They were old renters, most likely.
What's the party to you, anyway? Is he your--"

She paused, studying Caroline's simple but unmistakeable clothes
and manner.

"He drives the automobile," Caroline explained, "I thought he came
this way."

"Come in, won't you?" said the woman, "there's no good getting any
more lost than you are, I guess. There's not much to sit on,
'specially if you're used to automobiles, but we can find you
something, I hope. I try to keep it better looking than this
gen'ally, but this is my last day here. I'm going out West
to-morrow."

An old table, two worn chairs and an over-turned box furnished the
small room; through an open door Caroline spie