It was only for a moment, then the door shut upon them and they drove away. But I had seen him as I had dreamed him, a little older, but always in that brown, incomparable youth. He was bending his head to listen--that was the way I always thought of him. He was giving some unsmiling assent. He was here, and no longer across the world. I stood still, staring after the car. "Gee, that was a swell blue coat," said Lena. "I don't blame you for standing stock-still. I bet I could copy that.... Come on!" I went with her. But I hardly heard her stream of comment and bitter chatter. And yet it was not all of John Ember that I was thinking, nor was I filled only with my singing consciousness that he was back. I was seeing again Mrs. Carney's face as she had turned to speak to him; glowing, relaxed, open like a flower. Presently I was aware that Lena was not beside me. I looked and she was before the window of a shop. I crossed to her, and then I saw what she was looking at--no array of cheap blouses, price-marked, or of flaming plumes. She stood before the window of a children's outfitting shop. I said nothing, nor did she. She looked, and I waited. The white things were exquisite and, I felt, remote. They were so dainty that I feared they would alienate her, because they were so much beyond her. But to my surprise, she turned to me: "Could--could we go in here," she asked, "even if we didn't buy anything?" We went in. Within the atmosphere was still more compact of delicate fabric and fashioning and color. An assured young woman came forward. "Leave us look at some of your baby things," said Lena. We looked. I shall never forget Lena's hands, ungloved, covered with rings and cheap blue and red stones, as those hands moved in and about the heaped-up fineness of the little garments. Of some of the things she did not know the names. The pink and blue crocheted sacks and socks brought her back to them again and again. "I used to could crochet," she said at length. But it was before a small white under-skirt that she made her real way of contact. She fingered the white simple trimming, and her look flew to mine. "My God," she said, "that's 'three-and-five.' I can do that like lightning." "Get some thread," I said, "and make some...." She had made nothing yet. She had told me that. Now she lifted and touched for a moment among the heaped-up things that they brought her. "I've got five dollars," she said, "that I was savin' to get me a swell hat, when I go back. I might--" I said nothing. It seemed to me that a great thing was happening and that Lena must do it alone. After a little I priced the dimities and muslins in her hearing. "If you want to, Lena," I said, "you could come back to the flat and Mrs. Bingy would help you to make the things...." "Would five dollars get the cloth for two dresses and two skirts and some crochet wool? Some pink wool?" asked Lena.