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ssor of a dignity nourished by years of floor-walking, was not given to the holding of vigorous opinions. Yet, his comment, meager as it was, stood wholly in Mary’s favor. And he spoke with a certain authority, since he had given official attention to the girl.

Smithson stopped Sarah Edwards, Mr. Gilder’s private secretary, as she was passing through one of the departments that morning, to ask her if the owner had yet reached his office.

“Been and gone,” was the secretary’s answer, with the terseness characteristic of her.

“Gone!” Smithson repeated, evidently somewhat disturbed by the information. “I particularly wanted to see him.”

“He’ll be back, all right,” Sarah vouchsafed, amiably. “He went down-town, to the Court of General Sessions. The judge sent for him about the Mary Turner case.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now,” Smithson exclaimed. Then he added, with a trace of genuine feeling, “I hope the poor girl gets off. She was a nice girl–quite the lady, you know, Miss Edwards.