"Oh, of course. It’s young Reddy this time. Sylvia’s been out a good deal this autumn in her car; several times she’s been gone nearly the whole day. When the Doctor questioned her she’d either be evasive or sulky. On Friday someone told him they’d seen her far up on the turnpike with Jack Reddy in his racer." I fired up, I couldn’t help it. "Why should he be mad about that? Isn’t Mr. Reddy good enough for her?" "_I_ think he is. I told you before I thought the best thing she could do would be to marry him. But——" she looked round to see that no one was coming in——"don’t say a word of what I’m going to tell you. I have no right to repeat what I hear as an employee but I’m worried and don’t know what’s the best thing to do. Mrs. Fowler has as good as told me that her husband’s lost all his money and it’s Sylvia’s that’s running Mapleshade. And what _I_ think is that the Doctor doesn’t want her to marry _anyone_. It isn’t her he minds losing; it’s thirty thousand a year." "But when she comes of age she can do what she wants and if he makes it so disagreeable she won’t want to live there." "That’s two years off yet. He may recoup himself in that time." "Oh, I see. But he can’t do any good by fighting with her." "Molly, you’re a wise little woman. _Of course_ he can’t, but he doesn’t know it. He treats that hot-headed, high-spirited girl like a child of five. Mark my words, there’s going to be trouble at Mapleshade." I thought of the telephone message I’d overheard the day before and it came to me suddenly what "the secret" might be. Could Sylvia have been planning to run away? I didn’t say anything—it’s natural to me and you get trained along those lines in the telephone business—and I sat turning it over in my mind as Anne went on. "I’d leave to-morrow only I’m so sorry for Mrs. Fowler. She’s as helpless as a baby and seems to cling to me. The other day she told me about her first marriage—how her husband didn’t care for her but was crazy about Sylvia—that’s why he left her almost all his money." I wasn’t listening much, still thinking about "the secret." If she _was_ running away was she going alone or with Jack Reddy? My eyes were fixed on the window and I saw, without noticing particular, the down train from the city draw into the station, and then Jim Donahue run along the platform swinging a lantern. As if I was in a dream I could hear Anne: "I call it an unjust will—only two hundred thousand dollars to his wife and five millions to his daughter. But if Sylvia dies first, all the money goes back to Mrs. Fowler." The train pulled out, snorting like a big animal. Jim disappeared, then presently I saw him open the depot door and come slouching across the street. I knew he was headed for the Exchange, thinking Minnie Trail was there, he being a widower with a crush on Minnie. He came in and, after he’d got over the shock of seeing me, turned to Anne and said: "I just been putting your young lady on the train."