lieved he remembered.

"I remember that girl, too," Eleanor said; "Maurice told me about her."

"Well, what do you suppose?" Edith said; "I saw her to-day."

Maurice, pushing back his chair, got up and went into the little room
opening into the dining room, which they called the library. At his
desk, his pen in his hand, his jaw set, he sat listening--listening!
What in hell would she say next? What she said was harmless enough:

"Yes, I saw her. I was walking home, and on Maple Street who should I
see going into a house but this woman! She was lugging a flower pot, and
a baby. And,--now, isn't this funny?--she sort of stumbled at the gate,
_right by me_! And I grabbed her, and kept the child from falling; and I
said--" In the library Maurice's face was white--"I said, 'Why, _I_ saw
you once--you're Miss Dale. Your boat upset,' And she said, 'You have
the advantage of me.' Of course she isn't a lady, you know."

Eleanor smiled, and called significantly to her husband, "Edith says
your rescued friend isn't a 'lady,' Maurice!" He didn't answer, and she
added to Edith, "No; she certainly isn't a lady! Darling," she called
again; "do you suppose she's got married?"

To which he answered, "Where did I put those sheets of blotting paper,
Eleanor?"

"Oh yes, she's married," Edith said, scraping her plate; "she told me
her name was _Mrs_. Henry Dale. She couldn't seem to remember Maurice
giving her his coat, which I thought was rather funny in her, 'cause
Maurice is so handsome you'd think she'd remember him. And I said he was
'Mr. Curtis,' and she said she'd never heard the name. I got to talking
to her," ("I bet you did," Maurice thought, despairingly); "and she told
me that 'Jacky' had had the measles, and been awfully sick, but he was
all well now, and she'd taken him into Mercer to get him a cap."
("What's Lily mean by bringing the Thing into town!" Jacky's father was
saying through set teeth.) "She was perfectly bursting with pride about
him," Edith went on; "said he was 'a reg'lar rascal'! Isn't it queer
that I should meet her, after all these years?"

When Eleanor went into the library to hunt for the blotting paper, she,
too, commented on the queerness of Edith's stumbling on the lady who
wasn't a lady. "How small the world is!" said Eleanor. "Why, Maurice,
here's the paper! Right before you!"

"Oh," said Maurice, "yes; thank you." He was saying to himself, "I might
have known this kind of thing would happen!"