“I believe I’ll go over to Benton Harbor and see about that material for Wilson’s next houses. Layard’s say that it would be best for one of us to look over the stone before cutting, as we can save considerable on the specifications by taking advantage of the natural rock wherever possible. It’s certainly worth while spending three days to save thirty per cent on the shaping expenses.” “I’ll go over,” offered John quickly. “Why, there’s no use going for one day. I don’t expect to be back till--let’s see--today is Wednesday--Thursday--Friday--Saturday--at least not till Sunday noon.” “I’ll go,” repeated John. “You said yesterday that you ought to keep a close eye on that concrete work in the foundations of the other row of houses we’re building for Wilson. That’s more important than the stone.” “But I didn’t like to ask you to be away from your family so long,” protested Jim. “I’d like the trip,” explained John. “I’m in a state of nervous fidgets, and a change would do me good.” “All right. Just as you like,” returned Jim with a curious expression. “I’ll go home for lunch, and get off at three o’clock,” John continued. “The drawings and specifications are in that file marked ‘W,’” indicated Jim. John took the papers and went out. He was soon in the Rosedene train. “I’m going across the lake on business and won’t be back till Sunday or Monday,” he announced when he reached home, coming into the dining room where Lucy was seated, sewing. She looked startled, but her only remark was, “All right, John.” “I’ll pack my suit case now,” he told her, and started upstairs. “Shall I have luncheon at once?” she called to him. “No. I haven’t time. I’ll get something on the boat going across,” he answered over his shoulder. As he passed Nannie’s room the door was ajar and he saw that the windows were open and that the room had already been scrubbed and the bedding hung out to air. In a few minutes he returned to the lower hall, his bag in his hand. Lucy was still seated in the dining room but she rose when she heard his step. “Are you going, John?” she asked, coming to the hall door and leaning out. He hastened his pace. “Good-bye,” he called, going out on the veranda without looking back. “Good-bye, John.” She sat down to her sewing again, the tears slowly chasing each other down her cheeks. That evening when dinner was served Lucy called Dimmie and began the meal. “Where’s Papa?” he inquired. “Papa’s gone away for a little while, Son.” “Has he gone where Nannie is?” pursued Dimmie eagerly. “No--I don’t think so,” said Lucy after a little hesitation. * * * * * When Jim left the office for the day, he made his way to a restaurant where he often dined. “What shall I bring you, Mr. Sprague?” questioned the waiter who always served him. Jim took up the menu listlessly. “The fish is very nice tonight,” suggested the man.