in.

"Take me to her room," she said, and followed him into the elevator.

In response to his knock the door was opened by Mrs. Holt herself. She
wore a dove-coloured gown, and in her hand was a copy of the report of
the Board of Missions. For a moment she peered at Honora over the glasses
lightly poised on the uncertain rim of her nose.

"Why--my dear!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. Honora!"

"Oh," cried Honora, "I'm so glad you're here. I was so afraid you'd be
out."

In the embrace that followed both the glasses and the mission report fell
to the floor. Honora picked them up.

"Sit down, my dear, and tell me how you happen to be here," said Mrs.
Holt. "I suppose Howard is downstairs."

"No, he isn't," said Honora, rather breathlessly; "that's the reason I
came here. That's one reason, I mean. I was coming to see you this
morning, but I simply didn't have time for a call after I got to town."

Mrs. Holt settled herself in the middle of the sofa, the only piece of
furniture in the room in harmony with her ample proportions. Her attitude
and posture were both judicial, and justice itself spoke in her
delft-blue eyes.

"Tell me all about it," she said, thus revealing her suspicions that