The bottle was empty and the German bowed himself out. As the night was hot, Howard opened the door a few moments afterward. At the other end of the short hall light was streaming through the open door of the room the two girls had taken. Before he could turn, there was a shadow and “Miss Black-Hair” was standing in her doorway: “Oh,” she began, “I thought----” Howard paused, looking at her. She was above the medium height--tall for a woman--and slender. Her loose wrapper, a little open at her round throat, clung to her, attracting attention to all the lines of her form. Her hair was indeed black, jet black, waving back from her forehead in a line of curving and beautiful irregularity. Her skin was clear and dark. There were deep circles under her eyes, making them look unnaturally large, pathetically weary. In repose her face was childish and sadly serious. When she smiled she looked older and pert, but no happier. “I thought,” she continued with the pert, self-confident smile, “that you were my sister Nellie. I’m waiting for her.” “You’re in early tonight,” said Howard, the circles under her eyes reminding him of what the German had told him. “I haven’t slept much for a week,” the girl replied, “I’m nearly dead. But I won’t go to bed till Nellie comes.” Howard was about to turn when she went on: “We agreed always to stay together. She broke it tonight. My fellow got too fresh, so I came home. She said she’d come too. That was an hour ago and she isn’t here yet.” “Isn’t she rather young to be out alone at this time?” Howard could hardly have told why he continued the conversation. He certainly would not, had she been less beautiful or less lonely and childish. At his remark about her sister’s youth she laughed with an expression of cunning at once amusing and pitiful. “She’s a year older than me,” she said, “and I guess I can take care of myself. Still she hasn’t much sense. She’ll get into trouble yet. She doesn’t understand how to manage the boys when they’re too fresh.” “But you do, I suppose?” suggested Howard. “Indeed I do,” with a quick nod of her small graceful head, “I know what I’m about. _My_ mother taught _me_ a few things.” “Didn’t she teach your sister also?” “Miss Black-Hair” dropped her eyes and flushed a little, looking like a child caught in a lie. “Of course,” she said after a pause. “How long have you been without your mother?” “I’ve been away from home four months. But I saw her in the street yesterday. She didn’t see me though.” “Then you’ve got a step-father?” “No, I haven’t. Nellie told that to Mrs. Sands. But it’s not so. You know Nellie’s not my sister?” “I fancied not from what you said a moment ago.” “No, she used to be nurse girl in our family. We just say we’re sisters. I wish she’d come. I’m tired of standing. Won’t you come in?”