"Oh, mother!" The girl pursed her lips into a pouting smile as she leaned over the back of the chair, an affectionate arm on Mrs. Jones's shoulder. "Please get that foolish idea out of your head. You know--" "Know nothin'." Mrs. Jones's head jerked vehemently while she insisted: "Every letter you wrote home all the time you was workin' in his office showed that he cared for you." "I never wrote anything of the sort!" Millie drew a surprised breath as her mouth was drawn into a tiny O of expostulation. "Never!" she reiterated, with a slight stamp of her foot, as she went to the California desk and became absorbed in the register. "Oh, I could read between the lines! I ain't that stupid. If he isn't in love with you, why is he plannin' for us to come and live in San Francisco? Oh, won't it be grand!" Mrs. Jones, carried away by the recollection of a long-ago visit to the city, and by a dream of what a permanent life there would be, resumed her own hearty enthusiasm. "I want to live in the city real bad, but I'm just skeered to death I won't know how to dress. I want to get a lot o' pretty things 'n' be like the women I saw when I was at the Palace. Do ye think Bill 'll think I'm getting crazy?" An indulgent smile from Millie met her uneasy but smiling gaze, and she went on: "I know I've talked about the city ever since I can remember, but now that it's in sight I'm awful afraid I'll be out o' place." "Well, you'll not," answered Millie, going behind the counter to look at the letter-rack, almost empty. "I'm going to see that you have just as nice things as any of the women stopping here." There was a silence as both of the women smiled in contented anticipation. Mrs. Jones was the first to speak, a sudden doubt expressing itself in an anxious frown and a narrowing of the eyes. "But there's Bill," she said, with a start. "I'm so afraid of the way he'll act!" "Daddy 'll be all right, I'm sure." Mrs. Jones composed herself and began planning. "When his pension comes, you must take him to town and buy him some new clothes. Them others we got before didn't fit a bit good." Millie turned quickly at the mention of her father's pension, remembering that it was time for it to arrive. She reminded her mother of this fact. Mrs. Jones's gaiety had brief life after Millie's remark. "He ain't back with the mail! I'll bet--" "Oh, mother!" Millie, deeply concerned, came from behind the desk and went up to the older woman, questioning, "You don't suppose his pension has come?"