“Very well--ask him to leave his number. I can not be disturbed now.” He hung up the receiver. “Doctor Wilde,” he said in the same Solemn tone. “I realize of course that you are asking for my resignation. But first I must know the charge against me. There has been an attack on my character. I have the right to demand full knowledge of it.” “To mention only one occasion,” said the doctor, as if unaware of the interruption, still fussing with the mission house, “you were seen, as recently as last evening, leaving a questionable restaurant in company with a still more questionable young woman.” So that was all he knew! Hy breathed a very little more easily. Then the telephone rang again, and Hy's overstrained nerves jumped like mad. “Very well,” said he to the pretty telephone girl, “put him on my wire.” And to his chief: “You will have to excuse me, Doctor. This appears to be important.” He rose with extreme dignity and left the room. Once within his own office he stood clinging to the door-knob, breathing hard. It was all over! He was fired. He must begin life again--like General Grant. His own telephone bell was ringing frantically. At first he hardly heard it. Finally he pulled himself together and moved toward the desk. It would be Betty, of course. She ought to have more sense! Why hadn't she stayed up-state with that new husband of hers, anyway! Wasn't life disastrous enough without a very much entangled, contrite Betty on his own still more entangled hands. But the voice was not that of Betty. Nor was it the voice of Silvia. It was a soft little voice, melodious, hesitating. It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. “Oh,” it said, “is that you? I've had such a hard time getting you.” “I'm sorry!” breathed Hy. Who was she? “Are you awfully busy?” Hy hesitated. Deep amid the heaped and smoking runs of his life a little warm thing was stirring. It was the very instinct for adventure. He looked grimly about the room, to be his office no longer. He didn't care particularly what happened now. His own voice even took on something of the strange girl's softness. “Not so awfully,” said he. Then groping for words added: “Where are you now?” “Up at the Grand Central.” “Goodness! You're not going away--now?” “Yes--going home. I feel awfully bad about it.” A silence intervened. Then this from Hy: “You--you're not alone up there?” “All alone.” What a charmingly plaintive little voice it was, anyway! The healthy color was returning to Hy's cheeks. “Well,” said he--“well, say--” “Yes?” she murmured. “How long--when does your train go?” “Oh, could you? I didn't dare ask--you seemed so busy!” “I could be there in--well, under fifteen minutes.” “Oh, good. I've got--let me see--nearly half an hour.” “Be by the clock in the main waiting-room Good-by!”