"Men are terrible! They make so much trouble," said Frances Smith. "It seems as if they hated to see anybody have a good time." "Mother and I do as we please and say nothing," said Phyllis. "We never tell father anything. Men don't understand." Some of the girls smiled and looked into one another's eyes. There had been a curious undercurrent in the party. It did not break the surface of the stream until Mrs. Bing asked Mrs. Pendleton Ames, "Where is Susan Baker?" A silence fell upon the group around her. Mrs. Ames leaned toward Mrs. Bing and whispered, "Haven't you heard the news?" "No. I had to scold Susan Crowder and Martha Featherstraw as soon as I got here for neglecting their work and they've hardly spoken to me since. What is it?" "Pauline Baker has run away with a strange young man," Mrs. Ames whispered. Mrs. Bing threw up both hands, opened her mouth and looked toward the ceiling. "You don't mean it," she gasped. "It's a fact. Susan told me. Mr. Baker doesn't know the truth yet and she doesn't dare to tell him. She's scared stiff. Pauline went over to Hazelmead last week to visit Emma Stacy against his wishes. She met the young man at a dance. Susan got a letter from Pauline last night making a clean breast of the matter. They are married and stopping at a hotel in New York." "My lord! I should think she _would_ be scared stiff," said Mrs. Bing. "I think there is a good reason for the stiffness of Susan," said Mrs. Singleton, the wife of the Congregational minister. "We all know that Mr. Baker objected to these modern dances and the way that Pauline dressed. He used to say that it was walking on the edge of a precipice." There was a breath of silence in which one could hear only a faint rustle like the stir of some invisible spirit. Mrs. Bing sighed. "He may be all right," she said in a low, calm voice. "But the indications are not favorable," Mrs. Singleton remarked. The gossip ceased abruptly, for the girls were coming out of the Palm Room. The next morning, Mrs. Bing went to see Susan Baker to offer sympathy and a helping hand. Mamie Bing was, after all, a good-hearted woman. By this time, Mr. Baker had been told. He had kicked a hole in the long looking-glass in Pauline's bedroom and flung a pot of rouge through the window and scattered talcum powder all over the place and torn a new silk gown into rags and burnt it in the kitchen stove and left the house slamming the door behind him. Susan had gone to bed and he had probably gone to the club or somewhere. Perhaps he would commit suicide. Of all this, it is enough to say that for some hours there was abundant occupation for the tender sympathies of Mrs. J. Patterson Bing. Before she left, Mr. Baker had returned for luncheon and seemed to be quite calm and self-possessed when he greeted her in the hall below stairs. On entering her home, about one o'clock, Mrs. Bing received a letter from the hand of Martha.