Though Lucy had scarcely tasted her breakfast she rose and, taking up her purse and gloves, went upstairs again. She did not take Dimmie to Mrs. Hamilton’s until her husband and mother had gone to the station. Dr. Hamilton, after a sleepless night with a bad patient, was sitting with his wife at the table finishing a late breakfast, when Lucy and Dimmie came in. “I thought you were taking the rest cure,” the doctor greeted Lucy jocularly. He got up and lifted Stella from her high chair beside him. The little girl flew enthusiastically to welcome Dimmie. “I am.” Lucy smiled rather wanly. “How is your mother? She ought to have used her influence to keep you at home today,” Dr. Hamilton resumed. “Mrs. Merwent is very well, thank you.” Lucy stooped to kiss Stella. “I hope you’ve come to spend the day,” suggested Mrs. Hamilton cordially. “No. I’m going down town,” replied Lucy. “I don’t know about that,” objected the doctor doubtfully. “Please don’t, Dr. Hamilton,” Lucy protested quickly. He glanced at her keenly. “I think perhaps going out a little may do you good,” he conceded after a moment. Lucy had seated herself in a bow window commanding the street. Soon she saw Nannie returning from the station. “When does the train leave, Doctor?” Lucy asked. “In eight minutes,” he informed her, after consulting his watch. “Well, then, I’ll be going.” Lucy rose and shook hands. “Come over whenever you can and bring Dimmie and stay as long as you can, won’t you, Mrs. Winter?” urged Mrs. Hamilton earnestly. “And your mother, too. I’m afraid she’s standing on ceremony.” “Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton; I will,” Lucy smiled evasively. In less than an hour she rang the bell at Miss Storms’s apartment. “Why, Mrs. Winter!” exclaimed the maid as she opened the door and saw Lucy. “Miss Storms is out. She went to see Mr. and Mrs. Merwent off but she’ll be back at ten. Won’t you wait? I’m sure she would be disappointed at not seeing you. I think she thought you’d be at the station.” “Yes, I’ll wait,” agreed Lucy. “Come right in and take a chair, Mrs. Winter.” Lucy entered the pleasant reception room and, taking up a book from a table, sat down by a window. Although the volume was the translation of a Russian novel she had often wished to see, her interest evidently was not in what she read. Most of the time while the book was in her hand she spent in staring over the roofs of the city that stretched before her. Finally Miss Storms’ key was heard in the latch and the door opened. “Why, Lucy! Bless your heart. I’m so glad you’re better,” Miss Storms ejaculated, kissing her friend’s cheek. “They’ve just gone. If you’d come to the station you could have caught them.” “I wanted to see you,” replied Lucy, not responding to her hostess’s smile. Miss Storms was studying Lucy’s face carefully. “I see you have been reading _Sanin_. What do you think of it?” “I didn’t read much,” Lucy confessed. “You said that if ever I was in trouble I must come to you.”