Another tinkle. She cast a hurried and doubtful glance over her attire. It was designed for the intimacy of her boudoir. "I--I _couldn't_ talk to him out of the window! I've been shocking enough as it is!" she thought; and, finger tips on the banisters, she ran down the three stairs and appeared at the basement grille, breathless, radiant, forgetting, as usual, her self-consciousness in thinking of him, a habit of this somewhat harebrained and headlong girl which had its root in perfect health of body and wholesomeness of mind. "I found some clothes--not the sort I can go out in!" she said, laughing at his astonishment, as she unlocked the grille. "So, please, overlook my attire; I was _so_ full of coal dust! and I found sufficient Apollinaris for my necessities.... _What_ did they say at Sandcrest?" He said very soberly: "We've got to discuss this situation. Perhaps I had better come in for a few minutes--if you don't mind." "No, I don't mind.... Shall we sit in the drying room?" leading the way. "Now tell me what is the matter? You rather frighten me, you know. Is--is anything wrong at Sandcrest?" "No, I suppose not." He touched his flushed face with his handkerchief; "I couldn't get Oyster Bay on the 'phone." "W-why not?" "The wires are out of commission as far as Huntington; there's no use--I tried everything! Telegraph and telephone wires were knocked out in this morning's electric storm, it seems." She gazed at him, hands folded on her knee, left leg crossed over, foot swinging. "This," she said calmly, "is becoming serious. Will you tell me what I am to do?" "Haven't you anything to travel in?" "Not one solitary rag." "Then--you'll have to stay here to-night and send for some of your friends--you surely know somebody who is still in town, don't you?" "I really don't. This is the middle of July. I don't know a woman in town." He was silent. "Besides," she said, "we have no light, no water, nothing to eat in the house, no telephone to order anything----" He said: "I foresaw that you would probably be obliged to remain here, so when I left the telephone office I took the liberty of calling a taxi and visiting the electric light people, the telephone people and the nearest plumber. It seems he is your own plumber--Quinn, I believe his name is; and he's coming in half an hour to turn on the water." "Did you think of doing all that?" she asked, astonished. "Oh, that wasn't anything. And I ventured to telephone the Plaza to serve luncheon and dinner here for you----" "You _did?_" "And I wired to Dooley's Agency to send you a maid for to-day----" "That was perfectly splendid of you!" "They promised to send one as soon as possible.... And I think that may be the plumber now," as a tinkle came from the area bell. It was not the plumber; it was waiters bearing baskets full of silver, china, table linen, ice, fruits, confections, cut flowers, and, in warmers, a most delectable luncheon.