At the end of the first week, supplies were beginning to run short and still there was no sign of any return of the missing Mr. Maxwell. With some misgiving, Mrs. Bagley broached the subject of shopping to James. The youngster favored Mrs. Bagley with another smile. "Yes," he said calmly. "Just a minute." And he disappeared upstairs to fetch another envelope. Inside was a second letter which read: My Dear Mrs. Bagley: Attached you will find letters addressed to several of the local merchants in Shipmont, explaining your status as my housekeeper and directing them to honor your purchases against my accounts. Believe me, they recognize my signature despite the fact that they might not recognize me! There should be no difficulty. I'd suggest, however, that you start a savings account at the local bank with the enclosed salary check. You have no idea how much weight the local banker carries in his character-reference of folks with a savings account. Otherwise, I trust things are pleasant. Sincerely, Charles Maxwell. "Things," she mused aloud, "are pleasant enough." James nodded. "Good," he said. "You're satisfied, then?" Mrs. Bagley smiled at him wistfully. "As they go," she said, "I'm satisfied. Lord knows, you're no great bother, James, and I'll be most happy to tell Mr. Maxwell so when he returns." James nodded. "You're not concerned over Maxwell, are you?" She sobered. "Yes," she said in a whisper. "Yes, I am. I'm afraid that he'll change things, that he'll not approve of Martha, or the way dinner is made, or my habits in dishwashing or bedmaking or marketing or something that will--well, put me right in the role of a paid chambermaid, a servant, a menial with no more to say about the running of the house, once he returns." James Holden hesitated, thought, then smiled. "Mrs. Bagley," he said apologetically, "I've thrown you a lot of curves. I hope you won't mind one more." The woman frowned. James said hurriedly, "Oh, it's nothing bad, believe me. I mean--Well, you'll have to judge for yourself. "You see, Mrs. Bagley," he said earnestly, "there isn't any Charles Maxwell." * * * * * Janet Bagley, with the look of a stricken animal, sat down heavily. There were two thoughts suddenly in her mind: _Now I've got to leave_, and, _But I can't leave_. She sat looking at the boy, trying to make sense of what he had said. Mrs. Bagley was a young woman, but she had lived a demanding and unrelenting life; her husband dead, her finances calamitous, a baby to feed and raise ... there had been enough trouble in her life and she sought no more. But she was also a woman of some strength of character.