“I acted for the best,” her husband grumbled. “Such things are coming up in life all the time. But when women are mixed up in 'em, there's no making them see straight. It wasn't fitting that Gloria should have everything explained to her at the start. It wasn't businesslike. When she comes into full control of things herself, it will be different. I am afraid Richards is not quite the man to have charge of things down there. I have given him his own way too much. But one has to with Richards. He's a good collector.” “But the stair-rail, dear,” interposed his wife. “Stair-railings should be secure, above all things.” “Yes, Richards ought to have seen that everything was safe. I cannot understand a glaring negligence like that. He's always given me the impression that things were kept very fairly shipshape.” Having said this, Mr. McAndrew rose and began pacing the veranda. “Richards said it was a poor, half-witted creature,” he murmured, as though thinking aloud. “But, dear,” interposed his wife, “half-witted creatures can be killed!” Aunt Em's thoughts seemed to be keeping pace with those of the man marching up and down the piazza floor. “Oh, she won't die. That sort o' folks don't,” her husband answered. And at that moment Gloria was standing in Rose's room in No. 80, listening to the dying away of the footsteps of the angry mother of Sal, the woman vowing vengeance on the one who could leave a house to tumble down over people's heads. And in with the angry tones were the protesting ones of the District Nurse. A few moments later Rose's door opened, and the District Nurse, flushed and worried, entered. “Sal's mother has been drinking, and she's wild over the accident,” she said in tones as steady as she could make them. But Gloria saw that she was strangely wrought up. “Drink or no drink,” said Gloria, with a bridling of her head. “I should think a mother had cause to be worked up over an accident like that.” A look of hauteur was on the young girl's face. “That such things can be, and no note taken of them, is a disgrace to the century.” The nurse's face paled, as she looked into Gloria's eyes. “Don't, Gloria, don't!” she said pleadingly. “It is pitiful enough. Don't--” she stopped. “And may not one even utter a protest against the existence of such a thing?” said Gloria. “Well, I shall go to the hospital and see Sal. I can at least do that.” “It can hardly do any good,” said the nurse in a discouraged tone. “But if you really wish to go, Gloria, I will go with you.” “Very well,” said Gloria, “we will go just as soon as we get rested after luncheon.” At the corner near Gloria's home, the District Nurse bade Gloria good-by, as she had an errand to do on her way home. Gloria watched her to a car. Then she turned and made her own way back to Treeless Street. It was on the corner near No. 80 that she came upon the very one she was wishing for.