Sadie Corn, in the doorway, gave no heed to him. Her eyes searched Julia's flushed face. What she saw there seemed to satisfy her. She turned to him then grimly. "What are you doing here?" Sadie asked briskly. Two-twenty-three muttered something about the wrong room by mistake. Julia laughed. "He lies!" she said, and pointed to the floor. "That bill belongs to him." Sadie Corn motioned to him. "Pick it up!" she said. "I don't--want it!" snarled Two-twenty-three. "Pick--it--up!" articulated Sadie Corn very carefully. He came forward, stooped, put the bill in his pocket. "You check out to-night!" said Sadie Corn. Then, at a muttered remonstrance from him: "Oh, yes, you will! So will Two-eighteen. Huh? Oh, I guess she will! Say, what do you think a floor clerk's for? A human keyrack? I'll give you until twelve. I'm off watch at twelve-thirty." Then, to Julia, as he slunk off: "Why didn't you answer the phone? That was me ringing!" A sob caught Julia in the throat, but she turned it into a laugh. "I didn't hardly hear it. I was busy promising him a licking from Jo." Sadie Corn opened the door. "Come on down the hall. I've left no one at the desk. It was Jo I was telephoning you for." Julia grasped her arm with gripping fingers. "Jo! He ain't--" Sadie Corn took the girl's hand in hers. "Jo's all right! But Jo's mother won't bother you any more, Sadie. You'll never need to give up your housekeeping nest-egg for her again. Jo told me to tell you." Julia stared at her for one dreadful moment, her fist, with the knuckles showing white, pressed against her mouth. A little moan came from her that, repeated over and over, took the form of words: "Oh, Sadie, if I could only take back what I said to Jo! If I could only take back what I said to Jo! He'll never forgive me now! And I'll never forgive myself!" "He'll forgive you," said Sadie Corn; "but you'll never forgive yourself. That's as it should be. That, you know, is our punishment for what we say in thoughtlessness and anger." They turned the corridor corner. Standing before the desk near the stairway was the tall figure of Donahue, house detective. Donahue had always said that Julia was too pretty to be a hotel employé. "Straighten up, Julia!" whispered Sadie Corn. "And smile if it kills you--unless you want to make me tell the whole of it to Donahue." Donahue, the keen-eyed, balancing, as was his wont, from toe to heel and back again, his chin thrust out inquiringly, surveyed the pair. "Off watch?" inquired Donahue pleasantly, staring at Julia's eyes. "What's wrong with Julia?" "Neuralgy!" said Sadie Corn crisply. "I've just told her to quit rubbing her head with peppermint. She's got the stuff into her eyes." She picked up the bottle on her desk and studied its label, frowning. "Run along downstairs, Julia. I'll see if they won't send you some hot tea." Donahue, hands clasped behind him, was walking off in his leisurely, light-footed way.