She did not soften the dun by offering the usual excuse about "expenses being a little heavier this month than we expected," or that she "hated to ask him for the amount." "Is it three or four weeks, Miss Molly?" he inquired, taking out an envelope and a pencil. "Four weeks today." "Sixty dollars." He jotted it down. "I cannot let this opportunity pass to tell you how thoroughly satisfied I have been with everything here, Miss Molly. The table is really extraordinarily good. I don't see how you can do it for fifteen dollars a week, including room." He replaced the envelope in his pocket, and smiled politely, his hand going to the door knob. "We couldn't do it, Mr. Thane, unless we stuck pretty closely to our rule,--that is, of asking our patrons to pay promptly at the end of every week." "It's really the only way," he agreed. "So if you will be kind enough to let me have the amount now, I will be very much obliged to you." He stepped to the head of the stairs, ostensibly to be nearer a light, and took out his purse. While counting out the bills, he cast frequent glances down into the lower hall. The buzz of conversation came up from the "lounge." "I think you will find the proper amount here, Miss Molly," he said, after restoring the purse to his pocket. She took the bank-notes and counted them. "Quite correct, Mr. Thane. Thank you. By the way, I have been meaning to ask how much longer you contemplate remaining with us. Pastor Mavity has been inquiring for room and board for his sister, who is coming on from Indianapolis to spend several months in Windomville. If by any chance you are thinking of vacating your room within the next few days, I would be obliged if you would let me know as soon as possible in order that I may give Mr. Mavity an answer." "I think I shall be leaving shortly, Miss Dowd. I can let you know in a day or two," said he stiffly. "I am afraid your winters are too severe for me. Good night,--and thank you for being so patient, Miss Dowd." Meanwhile, Miss Angie Miller had taken Charlie Webster off to a corner of the "lounge" remote from the fireplace. She was visibly excited. "I had a letter in this afternoon's mail from my uncle, Charlie," she announced in subdued tones. "My goodness, you'll simply pass away when you read it." "Where is it?" demanded Charlie eagerly. "I haven't even shown it to Furman," said she, looking over her shoulder. "I've been wondering whether I ought to let him read it first." "Not at all," said he promptly. "It's none of his business. This is between you and me, Angie. Let's have a look at it." "I don't think you'd better read it here," she whispered nervously. "It--it is very private and confidential." "That's all right," said Charlie. "I'll sneak upstairs with it, Angie." "Well, act as if you are looking out of the window," she said, and when his back was turned she produced the letter from its hiding place inside her blouse. II