She grimaced wryly as she was jammed and pushed through the door into the crowded local. Shoving feet, jostling bodies, wrists at the level of her eyes. Hairy wrists, chapped thin wrists, fat wrists, grubby, reaching up for straps; and the horrid odor of dirty wool, damp from the snow. A wrench, a grinding, and the terrific, clattering roar of the homeward propulsion began. She longed for the quiet isolation of the hour on top of the bus, in which she could swing into fresh adjustment. Lucky that heads were smaller than shoulders and set in the middle. The figure against her began to squirm, and her swift indignant glance found a folded newspaper worming up before her eyes. Friday, December 9. She stared at the date, its irking association just eluding her. The 9th. She set her lips in dismay as she caught her dodging thought. That reception, to-night! She had meant to buy fresh net for her dress, her one black evening dress--and Margaret's appearance had driven it out of her head. No room for her abortive shrug. Well, probably fresh net would have fooled no one. At the sound of her key in the door, Marian rushed through the hall. Catherine, shivering a little at the sudden warmth after the windy blocks from the subway, bent to kiss her. "Muvver!" Marian's eyes were roundly horrified. "Spencer's run away. We can't find him anywhere!" Her voice quavered. "He's lost himself!" "What do you mean!" Catherine thrust her aside and ran through the hall. Letty was clattering busily around the edge of the living room rug on her go-duck. "Where's Miss Kelly?" "Kelly gone. Spennie gone. Daddy gone." Chanted Letty, urging her steed more violently. "Flora!" Catherine went toward the kitchen, to meet Flora, her mouth wide and dolorous. "He's done eluded 'em, Mis' Hammond," she said. "They been hunting hours an' hours." "What happened?" Catherine was cold in earnest now, a gasping cold that settled starkly about her heart. "He ain't come home after school. Miss Kelly, she took Marian and went over there, but they wasn't no one lef' there. Chillun all gone." "Yes, Muvver, we went over three times, Miss Kelly and me, and he wasn't there, and the janitor said no children were there." "But he always comes straight home." Catherine's hand was at her throat, as if it could melt the constriction there. "You didn't see him, Marian?" "No." Marian flopped her hair wildly. "Miss Kelly was waiting for me, and Letty, and we had a walk, and he wasn't here----" "Has Mr. Hammond been in?" "Yessum, he's been in, and out, chasing around wild like." "He knows, then?" "He come home sort of early," explained Flora. Catherine shrank from the dramatic intensity of Flora's words. "Came home, and foun' his child wasn't here. He's gone for the police." The telephone rang, and Catherine hurried herself into the study. "Yes?" Her voice was faint. "Yes? Who is it?" "That you, Catherine?" "Have you found him?" she cried.