Next morning, looking over the financial page of a paper, Keith came on a paragraph in which Norman’s name appeared.  He was mentioned as one of the directors of a company which the paper declared was among those that had disappointed the expectations of investors.  There was nothing very tangible about the article; but the general tone was critical, and to Keith’s eye unfriendly.

When, the next afternoon, Keith rang the door-bell at Norman’s house, and asked if Mrs. Wentworth was at home, the servant who opened the door informed him that no one of that name lived there.  They used to live there, but had moved.  Mrs. Wentworth lived somewhere on Fifth Avenue near the Park.  It was a large new house near such a street, right-hand side, second house from the corner.

Keith had a feeling of disappointment.  Somehow, he had hoped to hear something of Lois Huntington.

Keith, having resolved to devote the afternoon to the call on his friend’s wife, and partly in the hope of learning where Lois was, kept on, and presently found himself in front of a new double house, one of the largest on the block.  Keith felt reassured.

“Well, this does not look as if Wentworth were altogether broke,” he thought.

A strange servant opened the door.  Mrs. Wentworth was not at home.  The other lady was in—­would the gentleman come in?  There was the flutter of a dress at the top of the stair.

Keith said no.  He would call again.  The servant looked puzzled, for the lady at the top of the stair had seen Mr. Keith cross the street and had just given orders that he should be admitted, as she would see him.  Now, as Keith walked away, Miss Lois Huntington descended the stair.

“Why didn’t you let him in, Hucless?” she demanded.

“I told him you were in, Miss; but he said he would not come in.”

Miss Huntington turned and walked slowly back up to her room.  Her face was very grave; she was pondering deeply.

A little later Lois Huntington put on her hat and went out.

Lois had not found her position at Mrs. Wentworth’s the most agreeable in the world.  Mrs. Wentworth was moody and capricious, and at times exacting.

She had little idea how often that quiet girl who took her complaints so calmly was tempted to break her vow of silence, answer her upbraidings, and return home.  But her old friends were dropping away from her.  And it was on this account and for Norman’s sake that Lois put up with her capriciousness.  She had promised Norman to stay with her, and she would do it.

Mrs. Norman’s quarrel with Alice Lancaster was a sore trial to Lois.  Many of her friends treated Lois as if she were a sort of upper servant, with a mingled condescension and hauteur.  Lois was rather amused at it, except when it became too apparent, and then she would show her little claws, which were sharp enough.  But Mrs. Lancaster had always been sweet to her, and Lois had missed her sadly.  She