“I don’t want any fish!” exclaimed Jim with unwonted irritation. “I don’t want any dinner,” he decided abruptly, noticing that the waiter was lingering by the table. “Bring me a large cup of black coffee.” When he had finished his coffee, he paid his bill and went out to the street. Here he boarded a surface car and was soon at his apartment house. Reaching his room, he put on a smoking jacket and lighted his pipe. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and began slowly pacing up and down the floor. “He’ll never grade that stone right,” he remarked to the bookcase, pausing in his walk and relighting his pipe which had gone out. Suddenly he went to the telephone and took down the receiver. “Give me Rosedene----” He paused. “What number did you say?” asked the operator. “Never mind, thank you,” he responded, hanging up the receiver again. Going to his wardrobe he exchanged the smoking jacket for a coat, and, taking his hat, descended in the elevator to the street. It was after nine o’clock when he found himself in front of a familiar station for suburban trains. Entering the building he was soon seated in a departing car. He alighted at Rosedene and walked in the direction of the Winters’ house. As he passed it he gazed fixedly at the darkened upstairs windows. Half a block further on he turned back and repassed the house, still staring at the darkened panes. Then he continued his way to the station and from there returned to the city. Lucy was lying in her room. She wept silently with Dimmie asleep in her arms. * * * * * After breakfast the next morning Dimmie began to search for his hat. “You don’t need to go to kindergarten, Son. You can stay at home with Mother if you like,” said Lucy. “But I want to go,” he argued. “There’s lots of little boys and girls goes and the teacher is dandy. We have lots of fun.” “All right, Son. You can go if you’d rather,” consented Lucy sadly, “but there’s no use in your going over to Mrs. Hamilton’s any more so early. You can go from here when the wagon passes.” “But I like to go early,” protested Dimmie. “Mrs. Hamilton always laughs an’ Stella an’ me play till the wagon comes. It’s too lonesome here.” Lucy tied his little cravat and, fixing his hat on properly, allowed him to depart without further words. XXXIV When John returned on Sunday he again found Lucy seated in the dining room by an open window, a book in her lap. “Hello!” he greeted, pausing in the doorway and setting down his suit case. Lucy looked up. Going over to her chair, he bent and kissed her forehead lightly. He seemed to have regained some of his former cheerful spirits. His color was nearer normal and his eyes were brighter. “I think we ought to get rid of Katy, John,” advised Lucy that evening after dinner. “There are not so many in the family now and it will save money. I don’t really need her. I can do the work without any difficulty.”