Rose--who was the stout woman--came early. She wore a purple dress, with a hat to match, and purple gloves. The ward eyed her with scorn and a certain deference. She greeted the Avenue Girl effusively behind the screens that surrounded the bed. "Well, you do look pinched!" she said. "Ain't it a mercy it didn't get to your face! Pretty well chewed up, aren't you?" "Do you want to see it?" "Good land! No! Now look here, you've got to put me wise or I'll blow the whole thing. What's my little stunt? The purple's all right for it, isn't it?" "All you need to do," said the Avenue Girl wearily, "is to say that I've been sewing for you since I came to the city. And--if you can say anything good----" "I'll do that all right," Rose affirmed. She put a heavy silver bag on the bedside table and lowered herself into a chair. "You leave it to me, dearie. There ain't anything I won't say." The ward was watching with intense interest. Old Maggie, working the creaking bandage machine, was palpitating with excitement. From her chair by the door she could see the elevator and it was she who announced the coming of destiny. "Here comes the father," she confided to the end of the ward. "Guess the mother couldn't come." It was not the father though. It was a young man who hesitated in the doorway, hat in hand--a tall young man, with a strong and not unhandsome face. The Probationer, rather twitchy from excitement and anxiety, felt her heart stop and race on again. Jerry, without a doubt! The meeting was rather constrained. The girl went whiter than her pillows and half closed her eyes; but Rose, who would have been terrified at the sight of an elderly farmer, was buoyantly relieved and at her ease. "I'm sorry," said Jerry. "I--we didn't realise it had been so bad. The folks are well; but--I thought I'd better come. They're expecting you back home." "It was nice of you to come," said the girl, avoiding his eyes. "I--I'm getting along fine." "I guess introductions ain't necessary," put in Rose briskly. "I'm Mrs. Sweeney. She's been living with me--working for me, sewing. She's sure a fine sewer! She made this suit I'm wearing." Poor Rose, with "custom made" on every seam of the purple! But Jerry was hardly listening. His eyes were on the girl among the pillows. "I see," said Jerry slowly. "You haven't said yet, Elizabeth. Are you going home?" "If--they want me." "Of course they want you!" Again Rose: "Why shouldn't they? You've been a good girl and a credit to any family. If they say anything mean to you you let me know." "They'll not be mean to her. I'm sure they'll want to write and thank you. If you'll just give me your address, Mrs. Sweeney----" He had a pencil poised over a notebook. Rose hesitated. Then she gave her address on the Avenue, with something of bravado in her voice. After all, what could this country-store clerk know of the Avenue? Jerry wrote it down carefully. "Sweeney--with an e?" he asked politely.