“I’m not going to do anything more,” she returned calmly. “Go on to the office. You needn’t worry about me any more.” “Well, if I was certain that you----” “You can be certain,” assured Lucy quickly. “Well, good-bye, then.” John moved slowly toward the hall. “Good-bye, John,” Lucy answered. The front door had scarcely closed after him when Nannie came in from the dining room. “I was just giving Katy orders about luncheon, Lucy,” remarked Nannie suavely, “but of course if you want something different you can tell her and it will be all right.” “It’s all right as it is, Mamma,” said Lucy. Mrs. Merwent raised her eyebrows. “Well! I’m glad you’ve started to call me by my right name.” Lucy did not speak and Nannie continued virtuously. “It’s just as you say about luncheon, Lucy. You are the mistress. I’m sure _I_ don’t want to do or say anything that will make unpleasantness. John has enough to worry about without us disagreeing. I wish we could get along without so many misunderstandings, Lucy. I’m sure I do _my_ part.” “I wish so too, Mamma.” Lucy’s tone was free from irritation or sarcasm. “Well, Lucy, maybe we can from now on. I know nobody tries harder or wants more to have things pleasant than I do.” “Did you notice where my mending was put, Mamma?” Lucy inquired after a moment in the same propitiatory manner. “Wait a minute. I think it’s under that flower stand.” Nannie brightened appreciably. “Did you find it?” she called back, on her way to the kitchen. “Oh, yes. Here it is.” Lucy gave a trembling sigh and seated herself. * * * * * At almost the same moment that Lucy took up her sewing Jim was walking slowly down the boulevard, his fists in his coat pockets and his eyes fixed on the ground. He did not notice Miss Storms’s car until it was drawn up to the kerb beside him, almost within reach. She opened the door and leaned out. “Get in, Jim. I want to talk to you a little,” she called. Jim obeyed without a word. “Where were you going?” she asked, shaking hands with him. “Nowhere in particular,” he answered. Miss Storms gave an order through the speaking trumpet to her chauffeur, and the car started slowly. “Jim, you’re a good boy,” she began. “I’d rather have you think so than almost anyone,” he replied with a slight smile. “But you’re not very deep,” she continued, smiling back at him. “That’s no news,” he returned. “I’ve been thinking of Lucy night and day lately. It’s up to you to straighten this thing out, Jim. I’ve tried and I can’t.” Jim stared at the passing vehicles for several moments before he spoke. “I know what you mean, Miss Storms. It’s no go. I’ve tried too, and only balled things all up.” He looked straight at her an instant, then glanced away once more, coloring painfully. “But I’m helpless, Jim.” “So am I.”