and returned to the boulevards which were ablaze with light and
gaiety. Jefferson suggested going somewhere else, but Mrs. Blake
was tired and Shirley, now quite irritated at what she considered
Jefferson's unaccountable unsociability, declined somewhat
abruptly. But she could never remain angry long, and when they
said good-night she whispered demurely:

"Are you cross with me, Jeff?"

He turned his head away and she saw that his face was singularly
drawn and grave.

"Cross--no. Good-night. God bless you!" he said, hoarsely gulping
down a lump that rose in his throat. Then grasping her hand he
hurried away.

Completely mystified, Shirley and her companion turned to the
office to get the key of their room. As the man handed it to
Shirley he passed her also a cablegram which had just come. She
changed colour. She did not like telegrams. She always had a dread
of them, for with her sudden news was usually bad news. Could
this, she thought, explain Jefferson's strange behaviour?
Trembling, she tore open the envelope and read:

_Come home at once,_

_Mother._