In those next few weeks Fred Payton was a little vague and preoccupied. The revelation which had come to her in that moment before the mirror when she had kissed her own hand, remained as a sort of undercurrent in her thoughts, although she did not put it into words again. Instead, she added Howard Maitland to her daily possibilities: Would she meet him on the street?—and her eyes, careless and eager, raked the crowds on the pavements! Would he drop into her office to say he had fished up a client for her?—and she held her breath for an expectant moment when the elevator clanged on her floor. Would he be at the dance at the Country Club?—and when he cut in, and they went down the floor together, something warm and satisfied brooded in her heart, like a bird in its nest. Sometimes she rebuked herself for letting him know how pleased she was to see him; and then rebuked herself again: Why not? Why shouldn't she be as straightforward as he? Hadn't he told her he would rather talk to her than to any man he knew? She flung up her head when she thought of that; she was not vain, but she knew that he would not say that to any other girl in their set. She was very contented now; not even the ell room at 15 Payton Street seriously disturbed[Pg 104] her. The fact was, Life was so interesting she hadn't time to think of the ell room—Howard, herself, her business, her league! Yet, busy as she was, she remembered Flora's desire for music lessons, and every two or three days, before it was time to set the table for dinner, she stood by the togaed bust of Andy Payton, trying to teach the pathetically eager creature her notes. But the lessons, begun with enthusiasm, dragged as the weeks passed; poor Flora's numb mind—a little more numb just now because Mr. Baker's Sam had suddenly vanished from her horizon—could not grasp the matter of time. Fred's hand, resting on her shoulder, could feel the tremor of effort through her whole body, as the thin, brown fingers stumbled through the scales:

"Now! Count: One—two—three—"

"One—two—oh, land! Miss Freddy, I cain't."

"Yes, you can. Try again."

"Why don't you jest show me a tune?"

"You have got to know your notes first; and you've got to count, or you never can learn."

"I don't want to learn, Miss Freddy; I want to play! Oh," she said once, clutching her hands against her breast, "I want to play!" Her mournful eyes, black and opaque, gleamed suddenly; then a tear trembled, brimmed over, and dropped down on the work-worn fingers. "I cain't learn, Miss Freddy; I 'ain't got the 'rithmetic. I want to make music!"

Alas, she never could make music! The clumsy hands, the dull brain, held her back from the singing heights! "I cain't learn 'rithmetic," she said (sixteenth and [Pg 105]thirty-second notes drew this assertion from her); "and if I cain't play music without 'rithmetic, I might as well give up now."

"Well, you can't," Frederica said, helplessly. She had cut out the last quarter of her league meeting to come home and give Flora a music lesson. (Up-stairs, Mrs. Payton, listening to the thump of the scales, confided to Mrs. Childs that she didn't approve of Flora's playing on the piano. "The parlor is not the place for Flora," she said.) But, watched by Mr. Andrew Payton's marble eyes, the slow fingers went on stumbling over the keys, until Frederica and her pupil were alike disconsolate.

"You poor dear!" Fred said, at last, putting an impulsive arm over the thin shoulders; "try once more! And, Flora, Sam isn't the only man in the world. Come now, cheer up! You're well rid of Sam."

"Sam?" said Flora, her face suddenly vindictive; "I ain't pinin' for no Sam! He was a low-down, no-account nigger—" The door-bell rang, and she jumped to her feet. "I must git my clean apron!" she said; and vanished into the pantry.

Frederica waited, frowning uneasily; callers were not welcome at 15 Payton Street when Fred was at home—the consciousness of the veiled intellect up-stairs made her inhospitable. But it was only Laura and Howard Maitland, both of them tingling with the cold and overflowing with absurd and puppy-like fun.

"Feed us! Feed us!" Laura demanded; "we've walked six miles, and we're perfectly dead!"

"Pig!" said Fred; "wait till I yell to Flora. Flora![Pg 106] Tea!" Her heart was pounding joyously, but with it was the agonizing calculation as to how long it would be before Miss Carter and her charge came clopping down the front stairs on their way to the room where Mortimore had his supper. "I don't mind Laura," Fred told herself, "but if Howard sees Morty, I'll simply die!"

"Don't you want me to light up?" Maitland was asking; and without waiting for her answer he scratched a match on the sole of his boot, and fumbled about the big, gilt chandelier to turn on the gas.

"I didn't know you played, nowadays," Laura said, looking at the open piano. "Gracious, Freddy, you do everything!"

"Oh, I'm only teaching poor Flora. She has musical aspirations. Howard, cheer up that fire!"

Tea came, and Laura said kind things to Flora about the music lessons; and then they all three began to chatter, and to scream at each other's jokes, Frederica all the while tense with apprehension.... ("Miss Carter won't have the sense to hold on to him; he'll walk right in!")

But, up-stairs, her mother, leaning over the balusters to discover who had called, had the same thought, and was quick to protect her.

"It's your Lolly," Mrs. Payton said, coming back to her sister-in-law; "and I think I hear Mr. Maitland's voice. I must tell Miss Carter to go down the back stairs with Morty." Having given the order, through the closed door between the two rooms, she sat down and listened with real happiness to the babel of young voices in the parlor. "I do like to have Freddy enjoy herself, as a girl in her[Pg 107] position should," she told Mrs. Childs; "just hear them laugh."

The laughter was caused by Howard's displeasure at Fred's story of some rudeness to which she had been subjected in canvassing for Smith—"The Woman's Candidate."

"If I'd been there, I'd have punched the cop's head!" he said, angrily.

Fred shrieked at his absurdity. "If he'd said it to you, you'd only think it was funny; and what's fun for the gander, is fun for—"

"No, it isn't," he said, bluntly.

"Howard," Laura broke in, "do tell Freddy the news!"

"It isn't much," he said, modestly; "I'm ordered off; that's all."

"Ordered off?" Fred repeated; "where?"

"Philippines," Laura said. "Government expedition. Shells and things. Starts Wednesday."

"I've wanted to go ever since I was a kid," Howard explained. "It's the Coast Survey, and I've been pulling legs all winter for a berth, and now I've got it. I came in to see you pipe your eye with grief at my departure."

"Grief? Good riddance! You lost me a client, taking me out to see those fool flats in Dawsonville. Have another cigarette. Lolly, how about you?"

"No," Laura sighed. "Billy-boy would have a fit if I smoked." She looked at Fred a little enviously. "I'm crazy to," she confessed.

[Pg 108]

"Oh, don't," Maitland said; "it isn't your style, Laura."

"Howard, do you really start Wednesday?" Fred said, soberly.

He nodded. "It's great luck."

"You'll have the time of your life," Laura assured him; "why do men have all the fun, Freddy?"

"Because we've been such fools to let 'em."

"Ladies wouldn't find it much fun—wading round in the mud," Howard protested.

"They ought to have the chance to wade round, if they want to!" Fred said—and paused: (was that Miss Carter, bringing Mortimore? Her breath caught with horror. She was sure she heard the lurching footsteps. No; all was silent in the upper hall).

Howard did not notice her preoccupation; he was pouring out his plans, Laura punctuating all he said with cries of admiration and envy. ("I'll die if Morty comes in!" Frederica was saying to herself.)
HOWARD DID NOT NOTICE HER PREOCCUPATION

HOWARD DID NOT NOTICE HER PREOCCUPATION. HE WAS POURING
OUT HIS PLANS, LAURA PUNCTUATING ALL HE SAID WITH CRIES
OF ADMIRATION AND ENVY

"You've got to write to me, Fred," Maitland charged her; "I haven't any relations—'no one to love me.' Do write me the news once in a while."

"You're off day after to-morrow?" she repeated, vaguely; it came over her, in the midst of that tense listening for the shuffling step on the stairs, that she would not see him again—he would go away, and she would not have had a word alone with him! She felt, suddenly, that she could not bear it. For a moment she forgot Mortimore. "If you don't go up-stairs and say how-do-you-do to Mother, Laura," she said, abruptly, "you'll get [Pg 109]yourself disliked. And your mother is in the sitting-room, too." Even if Miss Carter and Morty appeared, she couldn't have Howard leave her like this!

Just for an instant, Laura's face changed; then she flung her head up, and said, "Oh, yes; I want to see Aunt Nelly. I'll be right back. (I'll give 'em a chance," she told herself, grimly.)

Up-stairs, she roamed about the sit............