Mrs. Dunlap had decided that the personal deposit of this young girl at her mother's door was more important than any other "woman's work" that she could do that day although she did not know that the man she had foiled was already seated in the smoker of the early train, waiting for her to disappear. She utterly distrusted him, and felt instinctively that he would watch his opportunity. It was to the girl's great astonishment that, having established her charge in comfort, Mrs. Dunlap prepared to seat herself in the opposite chair. "Oh, are you really going this way?" said the unsuspecting child. "What made me think that you were going farther West? How far do you go? To Winfield? Why, that is just beyond my station! How lovely! You will stop and see mother and let her thank you herself, won't you?" But Mrs. Dunlap had decided that she would not. If the man were only a fool, and not a confirmed villain, and the child's heart was bound up in him, it were better for all concerned that her prejudices, as well as her knowledge of that tragic night, should never reach the mother's ears. When the journey was over and they drove to the girl's home, she waited only to clasp hands with the sweet-faced, low-voiced, grateful woman, into whose eager arms Daisy flung herself, and to decline the pressing invitation to the home that wanted to shower kindnesses upon her; then sped on to Winfield. Arrived in Winfield, Mary Dunlap's sole errand was to read a telegram she found awaiting her, send another, and take the first train back West. On the fourth morning following, she opened her eyes in a beautiful room in one of the elegant homes of a New York city suburb. It was still early, and she lay quiet for a few minutes, feasting her beauty-loving eyes on the evidences of abundant means and highly cultured taste spread lavishly about her. She had been too weary the night before to take in any details, except a bed. Mrs. Dunlap was accustomed to the position of honored guest in all sorts of homes. She could accommodate herself to the furnishings of the plainest home with a grace that was one of her charms; but she confessed to her very intimate friends that when "the lines fell to her in pleasant places," it always stirred an extra note of thanksgiving in her heart. There was certainly nothing lacking here; nothing to offend the most fastidious taste, or for the most exacting to desire. The days and nights just past had been strenuous ones to this always industrious woman. There had been first the rapid journey involving another failure in appointment, for this woman who prided herself on never failing; an equally rapid return to the East, reaching her next engagement just in time; then two hours by rail to her evening appointment; and here she was taking breath in a lovely room with a whole day of rest before she had to start again!