"I think I hear Peter," she said. "He is shut in somewhere, whining."

We went forward at once. She was right. Peter was scratching at the
door of Mr. Ladley's room, although I had left the door closed and
Peter in the hall. I let him out, and he crawled to me on three legs,
whimpering. Mr. Howell bent over him and felt the fourth.

"Poor little beast!" he said. "His leg is broken!"

He made a splint for the dog, and with Lida helping, they put him to
bed in a clothes-basket in my up-stairs kitchen. It was easy to see
how things lay with Mr. Howell. He was all eyes for her: he made
excuses to touch her hand or her arm--little caressing touches
that made her color heighten. And with it all, there was a sort of
hopelessness in his manner, as if he knew how far the girl was out of
his reach. Knowing Alma and her pride, I knew better than they how
hopeless it was.

I was not so sure about Lida. I wondered if she was in love with the
boy, or only in love with love. She was very young, as I had been. God
help her, if, like me, she sacrificed everything, to discover, too
late, that she was only in love with love!




CHAPTER V

Mr. Reynolds did not come home to dinner after all. The water had got
into the basement at the store, he telephoned, one of the flood-gates