Harriet was abroad. She had sent cards from Paris to her “trade.” It was an innovation. The two or three people on the Street who received her engraved announcement that she was there, “buying new chic models for the autumn and winter--afternoon frocks, evening gowns, reception dresses, and wraps, from Poiret, Martial et Armand, and others,” left the envelopes casually on the parlor table, as if communications from Paris were quite to be expected. So K. lunched alone, and ate little. After luncheon he fixed a broken ironing-stand for Katie, and in return she pressed a pair of trousers for him. He had it in mind to ask Sidney to go out with him in Max's car, and his most presentable suit was very shabby. “I'm thinking,” said Katie, when she brought the pressed garments up over her arm and passed them in through a discreet crack in the door, “that these pants will stand more walking than sitting, Mr. K. They're getting mighty thin.” “I'll take a duster along in case of accident,” he promised her; “and to-morrow I'll order a suit, Katie.” “I'll believe it when I see it,” said Katie from the stairs. “Some fool of a woman from the alley will come in to-night and tell you she can't pay her rent, and she'll take your suit away in her pocket-book--as like as not to pay an installment on a piano. There's two new pianos in the alley since you came here.” “I promise it, Katie.” “Show it to me,” said Katie laconically. “And don't go to picking up anything you drop!” Sidney came home at half-past two--came delicately flushed, as if she had hurried, and with a tremulous smile that caught Katie's eye at once. “Bless the child!” she said. “There's no need to ask how he is to-day. You're all one smile.” The smile set just a trifle. “Katie, some one has written my name out on the street, in chalk. It's with Dr. Wilson's, and it looks so silly. Please go out and sweep it off.” “I'm about crazy with their old chalk. I'll do it after a while.” “Please do it now. I don't want anyone to see it. Is--is Mr. K. upstairs?” But when she learned that K. was upstairs, oddly enough, she did not go up at once. She stood in the lower hall and listened. Yes, he was there. She could hear him moving about. Her lips parted slightly as she listened. Christine, looking in from her balcony, saw her there, and, seeing something in her face that she had never suspected, put her hand to her throat. “Sidney!” “Oh--hello, Chris.” “Won't you come and sit with me?” “I haven't much time--that is, I want to speak to K.” “You can see him when he comes down.” Sidney came slowly through the parlor. It occurred to her, all at once, that Christine must see a lot of K., especially now. No doubt he was in and out of the house often. And how pretty Christine was! She was unhappy, too. All that seemed to be necessary to win K.'s attention was to be unhappy enough. Well, surely, in that case-- “How is Max?” “Still better.”