brilliant lay in ruins. Professor Morris, sitting humped over on the
rude bench, thought of the wonderful chance that had brought him were
history, tragic and important, was being made. He did not worry
greatly over the disappearance of Elinor. He remembered several times
in Princeton when she had disappeared. Once they found her under a
bed. He wondered whether anyone had looked under the beds in the
forsaken house. The terrible idea that his baby girl might be actually
lost in the terrible disaster of Warsaw's defeat never once occurred to
him. He was annoyed a little at the disturbance she had caused, and
resolved to speak very severely to her.

He determined also to reprove Warren for his words; but reflecting on
the terrors and excitement and peril of the past hours, he decided to
treat it as a little boyish impatience, and overlook the whole thing.

As for his going back to find Elinor, he supposed it would really be a
waste of time. Warren would be perfectly able to find her; so he
pushed the bench against the wall, snapped a pad from his pocket, was
soon lost in pages and pages of notes on the events of the week.

But down in the clothes room while Ivan hastily took off his rich
garments and fitted himself with rough work clothes from the shelves,
Warren Morris walked the floor and groaned.

"Don't' take it like that, Warren," said Ivan, pausing to place a
sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder.

"It is awful!" groaned Warren. "She is so little, and so easily
frightened. I believe it will kill her."