him, will you, and ask him if he sees his way to accepting that
figure?"

"Yes," Alice said; and now her own lips twitched, while her eyes
filled so that she saw but a blurred image of the old man, who
held out his hand in parting. "I'll tell him. Thank you."

He shook her hand hastily. "Well, let's just keep it kind of
quiet," he said, at the door. "No good in every Tom, Dick and
Harry knowing all what goes on in town! You telephone me when
your papa's ready to go over the papers--and call me up at my
house to-night, will you? Let me hear how he's feeling?"

"I will," she said, and through her grateful tears gave him a
smile almost radiant. "He'll be better, Mr. Lamb. We all
will."



CHAPTER XXV

One morning, that autumn, Mrs. Adams came into Alice's room, and
found her completing a sober toilet for the street; moreover, the
expression revealed in her mirror was harmonious with the
business-like severity of her attire. "What makes you look so
cross, dearie?" the mother asked. "Couldn't you find anything
nicer to wear than that plain old dark dress?"

"I don't believe I'm cross," the girl said, absently. "I believe
I'm just thinking. Isn't it about time?"