As he went into the hall he heard Annie stirring about in her apartment. He went and rapped at her door. She quickly opened it, saying: “Good-morning, Mr. William. I knew it was you. I heard you come out of your own room.” “Yes, Annie; I must go to see Adler before starting on my journey. I just stopped to ask you if you would be so good as to prepare the child to accompany me. You can tell her that I am going to take her to Lady.” “Yes, Mr. William; but suppose Lady won’t have her?” “I cannot suppose anything of the sort in the case of this lady and child; but even in the improbable event you suggest I should be able to place the little one in good hands,” said Harcourt, thinking of the benevolent and prosperous Wynthrops, as he turned to go. “Mr. William!” said Annie, calling him back. “Well, Annie?” “You’ll have no call to get anything or to worry over the fire, just as you are going on a long journey. I will have breakfast ready by the time you come back from Adler’s.” “Oh, Annie!” he said, with a deprecating sigh, “how you do invite me to impose on you.” “Now, Mr. William, you know I’m a lone widow, growing old, without even an ‘only son of his mother’ to comfort me, unless it’s you, and I feel like a mother to you.” “Since ever I have known you, Annie, you have been like—a dear, elder sister; but lately you have done too much for me.” “No! no! Mr. William. And as for this, why, it’s nothing. Besides, you wouldn’t have time to go to Adler’s and come back and cook your breakfast and catch your train.” “No, indeed, I should not, Annie; so now I must thank you and hurry away.” He ran downstairs, out of the house, and down the street to the avenue, where he hailed a car and jumped on board. Ten minutes’ ride brought him to the corner of the street on which Adler lived. He jumped off the car and ran up the sidewalk until he reached his friend’s home. It was still so early that the family had just risen. The wife was getting breakfast ready. “You are our morning star, Mr. William. You always shine before sunrise,” said Mrs. Adler, laughing at her own fancy, as she wiped her fingers and shook hands with him; but the next instant she saw his woebegone face, and hastened to exclaim: “Something has happened to you, Mr. William! What is it? Can Adler or I do anything for you?” “You are right, my friend. I have had very bad news. My mother is ill, perhaps dying. I am called to her bedside,” Harcourt replied. “Oh, I am so sorry,” said the sympathetic woman. “Adler, can I speak to you a moment?” he inquired of the man. “Certainly. Mr. William. Come, and we will take a walk on the pavement while the mother is getting breakfast,” said the man, leading the way out. As they paced up and down before the house Harcourt told his friend of his trouble, and ended by saying: