the Street's family doctor. She was already dealing in larger figures. A
sort of recklessness had come over her since the morning. Already she was
learning that peace of mind is essential to successful endeavor. Somewhere
Harriet had read a quotation from a Persian poet; she could not remember
it, but its sense had stayed with her: "What though we spill a few grains
of corn, or drops of oil from the cruse? These be the price of peace."

So Harriet, having spilled oil from her cruse in the shape of Dr. Ed,
departed blithely. The recklessness of pure adventure was in her blood.
She had taken rooms at a rental that she determinedly put out of her mind,
and she was on her way to buy furniture. No pirate, fitting out a ship for
the highways of the sea, ever experienced more guilty and delightful
excitement.

The afternoon dragged away. Dr. Ed was out "on a case" and might not be in
until evening. Sidney sat in the darkened room and waved a fan over her
mother's rigid form.

At half after five, Johnny Rosenfeld from the alley, who worked for a
florist after school, brought a box of roses to Sidney, and departed
grinning impishly. He knew Joe, had seen him in the store. Soon the alley
knew that Sidney had received a dozen Killarney roses at three dollars and
a half, and was probably engaged to Joe Drummond.

"Dr. Ed," said Sidney, as he followed her down the stairs, "can you spare
the time to talk to me a little while?"

Perhaps the elder Wilson had a quick vision of the crowded office waiting
across the Street; but his reply was prompt: