with
a smile on her lips thought of the pasteboard box under her bed and
wondered what Jimmie would say if he could know. For Jane had fully made
up her mind that Jimmie was not to know. Not at present, anyhow. Some
time she might tell him if things turned out all right, but she knew
just what lordly masculine advice and criticism would lie upon James
Ryan's lips if she attempted to tell him about her strange and wonderful
guest of the night before. Maybe she was a fool to have trusted a
stranger that way. Maybe the girl would turn out to be insane or wrong
somehow, and trouble come, but she didn't believe it; and anyhow, she
was going to wait, until she saw what happened next before she got
Jimmie mixed up in it. Besides, the secret wasn't hers to tell. She had
promised Betty, and she always kept her promises. That was one reason
why she was so slow in promising to think about a wedding veil in
response to James Ryan's oft repeated question.

That evening on the way to the movies Jane instituted an investigation.

"Jimmie, what kind of a man is your boss?"

"White man!" said Jimmie promptly.

"Aw! Cut it out, James Ryan! I don't mean how'd s'e look, or what color
is he; I mean what kind of a _man_ is he?"

"Well, that's the answer. White man! What's the matter of that? I said
it and I meant it. He's white if there ever was one!"

"Oh, that!" said Miss Carson in scorn. "Of course I know he's a peach.
If he wasn't you wouldn't be workin' for him. What I mean, is he a
_snob_?"

"No chance!"

"Well, I saw him _with_ 'em last night. I was passin' that big church
up Spruce Street and I saw him standin' with his arms folded so----" she
paused on the sidewalk and indicated his pose. "It was a swell weddin'
and the place was full up. He had a big white front an' a clawhammer
coat. I know it was him 'cause I took a good look at him that time you
pointed him out at church that evenin'. I wondered was he _in with_ them
swells?"

Her tone expressed scorn and not a little anxiety, as if she had asked
whether he frequented places of low reputation.

"Oh, if you mean, _could_ he be, why that's a diffrunt thing!" said
James the wise. "_Sure_, he could be if he wanted, I guess. He's got a
good family. His uncle's some high muckymuck, and you often see his
aunts' and cousins' names in the paper giving teas and receptions and
going places. But he don't seem to go much. I often hear folks ask him
why he wasn't some place last