Gerhardt, having become an inmate of the Hyde Park home, at once bestirred himself about the labours which he felt instinctively concerned him. He took charge of the furnace and the yard, outraged at the thought that good money should be paid to any outsider when he had nothing to do. The trees, he declared to Jennie, were in a dreadful condition. If Lester would get him a pruning knife and a saw he would attend to them in the spring. In Germany they knew how to care for such things, but these Americans were so shiftless. Then he wanted tools and nails, and in time all the closets and shelves were put in order. He found a Lutheran Church almost two miles away, and declared that it was better than the one in Cleveland. The pastor, of course, was a heaven-sent son of divinity. And nothing would do but that Vesta must go to church with him regularly.

Jennie and Lester settled down into the new order of living with some misgivings; certain difficulties were sure to arise. On the North Side it had been easy for Jennie to shun neighbours and say nothing. Now they were occupying a house of some pretensions; their immediate neighbours would feel it their duty to call, and Jennie would have to play the part of an experienced hostess. She and Lester had talked this situation over. It might as well be understood here, he said, that they were husband and wife. Vesta was to be introduced as Jennie’s daughter by her first marriage, her husband, a Mr. Stover (her mother’s maiden name), having died immediately after the child’s birth. Lester, of course, was the stepfather. This particular neighbourhood was so far from the fashionable heart of Chicago that Lester did not expect to run into many of his friends. He explained to Jennie the ordinary formalities of social intercourse, so that when the first visitor called Jennie might be prepared to receive her. Within a fortnight this first visitor arrived in the person of Mrs. Jacob Stendahl, a woman of considerable importance in this particular section. She lived five doors from Jennie — the houses of the neighbourhood were all set in spacious lawns — and drove up in her carriage, on her return from her shopping, one afternoon.

“Is Mrs. Kane in?” she asked of Jeannette, the new maid.

“I think so, mam,” answered the girl. “Won’t you let me have your card?”

The card was given and taken to Jennie, who looked at it curiously.

When Jennie came into the parlour Mrs. Stendahl, a tall dark, inquisitive-looking woman, greeted her most cordially.

“I thought I would take the liberty of intruding on you,” she said most winningly. “I am one of your neighbours. I live on the other side of the street, some few doors up. Perhaps you have seen the house — the one with the white stone gate-posts.”

“Oh, yes indeed,” replied Jennie. “I know it well. Mr. Kane and I were admiring it the first day we came out here.”

“I know of your husband, of course, by reputation. My husband is connected with the Wilkes Frog and Switch Company.”

Jennie bowed her head. She knew that the latter concern must be something important and profitable from the way in which Mrs. Stendahl spoke of it.

“We have lived here quite a number of years, and I know how you must feel coming as a total stranger to a new section of the city. I hope you will find time to come in and see me some afternoon. I shall be most pleased. My regular reception day is Thursday.”

“Indeed I shall,” answered Jennie, a little nervously, for the ordeal was a trying one. “I appreciate your goodness in calling. Mr. Kane is very busy as a rule, but when he is at home I am sure he would be most pleased to meet you and your husband.”

“You must both come over some evening,” replied Mrs. Stendahl. “We lead a very quiet life. My husband is not much for social gatherings. But we enjoy our neighbourhood friends.”

Jennie smiled her assurances of good-will. She accompanied Mrs. Stendahl to the door, and shook hands with her. “I’m so glad to find you so charming,” observed Mrs. Stendahl frankly.

“Oh, thank you,” said Jennie flushing a little. “I’m sure I don’t deserve so much praise.”

“Well, now I will expect you some afternoon. Good-bye,” and she waved a gracious farewell.

“That wasn’t so bad,” thought Jennie as she watched Mrs. Stendahl drive away. “She is very nice, I think. I’ll tell Lester about her.”

Among the other callers were a Mr. and Mrs. Carmichael Burke, a Mrs. Hanson Field, and a Mrs. Timothy Ballinger — all of whom left cards, or stayed to chat a few minutes. Jennie found herself taken quite seriously as a woman of importance, and she did her best to support the dignity of her position. And, indeed, she did exceptionally well. She was most hospitable and gracious. She had a kindly smile and a manner wholly natural; she succeeded in making a most favourable impression. She explained to her guests that she had been living on the North Side until recently, that HER HUSBAND, Mr. Kane, had long wanted to have a home in Hyde Park, that her father and daughter were living here, and that Lester was the child’s stepfather. She said she hoped to repay all these nice attentions and to be a good neighbour.

Lester heard about these calls in the evening, for he did not care to meet these people. Jennie came to enjoy it in a mild way. She liked making new friends, and she was hoping that something definite could be worked out here which would make Lester look upon her as a good wife and an ideal companion. Perhaps, some day, he might really want to marry her.

First impressions are not always permanent, as Jennie was soon to discover. The neighbourhood had accepted her perhaps a little too hastily, and now rumours began to fly about. A Mrs. Sommerville, calling on Mrs. Craig, one of Jennie’s near neighbours, intimated that she knew who Lester was —“oh, yes, indeed. You know, my dear,” she went on, “his reputation is just a little —” she raised her eyebrows and her hand at the same time.

“You don’t say!” commented her friend curiously. “He looks like such a staid, conservative person.”

“Oh, no doubt, in a way, he is,” went on Mrs. Sommerville. “His family is of the very best. There was some young woman he went with — so my husband tells me. I don’t know whether this is the one or not, but she was introduced as a Miss Gorwood, or some such name as that, when they were living together as husband and wife on the North Side.”

“Tst! Tst! Tst!” clicked Mrs. Craig with her tongue at this astonishing news. “You don’t tell me! Come to think of it, it must be the same woman. Her father’s name is Gerhardt.”

“Gerhardt!” exclaimed Mrs. Sommerville. “Yes, that’s the name. It seems to me that there was some earlier scandal in connection with her — at least there was a child. Whether he married her afterward or not, I don’t know. Anyhow, I understand his family will not have anything to do with her.”

“How very interesting!” exclaimed Mrs. Craig. “And to think he should have married her afterward, if he really did. I’m sure you can’t tell with whom you’re coming in contact these days, can you?”

“It’s so true. Life does get badly mixed at times. She appears to be a charming woman.”

“Delightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Craig. “Quite naive. I was really taken with her.”

“Well, it may be,” went on her guest, “that this isn’t the same woman after all. I may be mistaken.”

“Oh, I hardly think so. Gerhardt! She told me they had been living on the North Side.”

“Then I’m sure it’s the same person. How curious that you should speak of her!”

“It is, indeed,” went on Mrs. Craig, who was speculating as to what her attitude toward Jennie should be in the future.

Other rumours came from other sources. There were people who had seen Jennie and Lester out driving on the North Side, who had been introduced to her as Miss Gerhardt, who knew what the Kane family thought. Of course her present position, the handsome house, the wealth of Lester, the beauty of Vesta — all these things helped to soften the situation. She was apparently too circumspect, too much the good wife and mother, too really nice to be angry with; but she had a past, and that had to be taken into consideration.

An opening bolt of the coming storm fell upon Jennie one day when Vesta, returning from school, suddenly asked: “Mamma, who was my papa?”

“His name was Stover, dear,” replied her mother, struck at once by the thought that there might have been some criticism — that some one must have been saying something. “Why do you ask?”

“Where was I born?” continued Vesta, ignoring the last inquiry, and interested in clearing up her own identity.

“In Columbus, Ohio, pet. Why?”

“Anita Ballinger said I didn’t have any papa, and that you weren’t ever married when you had me. She said I wasn’t a really, truly girl at all — just a nobody. She made me so mad I slapped her.”

Jennie’s face grew rigid. She sat staring straight before her. Mrs. Ballinger had called, and Jennie had thought her peculiarly gracious and helpful in her offer of assistance, and now her little daughter had said this to Vesta. Where did the child hear it?

“You mustn’t pay any attention to her, dearie,” said Jennie at last. “She doesn’t know. Your papa was Mr. Stover, and you were born in Columbus. You mustn’t fight other little girls. Of course they say nasty things when they fight — sometimes things they don’t really mean. Just let her alone and don’t go near her any more. Then she won’t say anything to you.”

It was a lame explanation, but it satisfied Vesta for the time being. “I’ll slap her if she tries to slap me,” she persisted.

“You mustn’t go near her, pet, do you hear? Then she can’t try to slap you,” returned her mother. “Just go about your studies, and don’t mind her. She can’t quarrel with you if you don’t let her.”

Vesta went away leaving Jennie brooding over her words. The neighbours were talking. Her history was becoming gossip. How had they found out.

It is one thing to nurse a single thrust, another to have the wound opened from time to time by additional stabs. One day Jennie, having gone to call on Mrs. Hanson Field, who was her immediate neighbour, met a Mrs. Williston Baker, who was there taking tea. Mrs. Baker knew of the Kanes, of Jennie’s history on the North Side, and the attitude of the Kane family. She was a thin, vigorous, intellectual woman, somewhat on the order of Mrs. Bracebridge, and very careful of her social connections. She had always considered Mrs. Field a woman of the same rigid circumspectness of attitude, and when she found Jennie calling there she was outwardly calm but inwardly irritated. “This is Mrs. Kane, Mrs. Baker,” said Mrs. Field, introducing her guests with a smiling countenance. Mrs. Baker looked at Jennie ominously.

“Mrs. Lester Kane?” she inquired.

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Field

“Indeed,” she went on freezingly. “I’ve heard a great deal about Mrs.—” accenting the word —“Mrs. Lester Kane.”

She turned to Mrs. Field, ignoring Jennie completely, and started an intimate conversation in which Jennie could have no possible share. Jennie stood helplessly by, unable to formulate a thought which would be suitable to so trying a situation. Mrs. Baker soon announced her departure, although she had intended to stay longer. “I can’t remain another minute,” she said; “I promised Mrs. Neil that I would step in to see her today. I’m sure I’ve bored you enough already as it is.”

She walked to the door, not troubling to look at Jennie until she was nearly out of the room. Then she looked in her direction, and gave her a frigid nod.

“We meet such curious people now and again,” she observed finally to her hostess as she swept away.

Mrs. Field did not feel able to defend Jennie, for she herself was in no notable social position, and was endeavouring, like every other middle-class woman of means, to get along. She did not care to offend Mrs. Williston Baker, who was socially so much more important than Jennie. She came back to where Jennie was sitting, smiling apologetically, but she was a little bit flustered. Jennie was out of countenance, of course. Presently she excused herself and went home. She had been ............