Richard felt somewhat embarrassed and started to leave, but they all urged him so warmly to stay that he sat down again. When Maggie poured out Gilbert’s coffee, she offered a cup of it to Dick. He, fearing to hurt her feelings by refusing to partake of what she had made, accepted the great thick cup. It was the worst dose Dick ever took. He tried to maintain an air of enjoyment, but he found it impossible to prevent his face drawing very stiff and grave when he tried to swallow the horrible stuff. “Won’t you have some more coffee? This is warmer,” Maggie asked, as Dick at last set the cup down. “No, no,” he answered, thickly, but most decidedly. Maggie gave him a startled, inquiring look, and poor Richard felt himself blush as he endeavored to swallow the mouthful of coffee-grains he got with the last of the coffee. Finding this unpleasant as well as impracticable, he disposed of them as best he could in his handkerchief and hastened to reassure her. “I never, never drink coffee until after dinner,” he said, earnestly, “and only broke my usual rule on this occasion because you made it.” He gave her a smile with this pretty speech; while it was not exactly what his pleased smiles usually were, it made Maggie blush with pleasure. The spotted dog, having swallowed his food after the manner of people at railway stations, came rubbing and sniffling around Richard’s knee in a very friendly spirit. “Fine dog, sir, Fritz is,” Blind Gilbert said, hearing the dog’s sounds. “Gettin’ old, though, like the old man. Now, Mag’, child,--she’s me ’dopted daughter, sir, I never had no children of me own--if you’re ready, me girl, we’ll start for me place of business.” Maggie put on her hat and fastened a chain to Fritz’s collar, and then giving Richard a little smile, took blind Gilbert by the hand and led him out. “Maggie is very wretched about her sister Lucille,” said Dido, confidentially, when left alone with Dick. “She went away two weeks before Mrs. Williams died, and she hasn’t come back yet.” “Did she say that she would be away for any time?” Richard asked, with a show of interest that he was far from feeling. He was rather weary of troublesome girls just then. “No, that’s it,” eagerly. “They hadn’t any idea that she wasn’t coming home.” “Indeed! Where had she gone?” “They don’t even know that. She said she was going out to do some extra work.” “What kind of work?” “She was a typewriter and a stenographer,” Dido explained, “and in the evenings she used to get extra work. This night she went to work, but she did not come back, and Maggie worries over it.” “I should think she would,” Richard replied kindly. “Why didn’t Maggie go to her sister’s employer? Probably he could throw some light on the subject.”