Frank Spencer found the mental atmosphere of Hilcrest in confusion when he returned from his two days' trip. Margaret had repeated to Mrs. Merideth the substance of what McGinnis had told her, drawing a vivid picture of the little children wearing out their lives in plain sight of the windows of Hilcrest. Mrs. Merideth had been shocked and dismayed, though she hardly knew which she deplored the more--that such conditions existed, or that Margaret should know of them. At Margaret's avowed determination to go over the mills, and into the operatives' houses, she lifted her hands in horrified protest, and begged her to report the matter to the Woman's Guild, and leave the whole thing in charge of the committee. "But don't you see that they can't reach the seat of the trouble?" Margaret had objected. "Why, even that money which I intended for little Maggie went into a general fund, and never reached its specified destination." And Mrs. Merideth could only sigh and murmur: "But, my dear, it's so unnecessary and so dreadful for you to mix yourself up personally with such people!" When her brother came home, Mrs. Merideth went to him. Frank was a man: surely Frank could do something! But Frank merely grew white and stern, and went off into his own den, shutting himself up away from everybody. The next morning, after a fifteen minute talk with Margaret, he sought his sister. His face was drawn into deep lines, and his eyes looked as if he had not slept. "Say no more to Margaret," he entreated. "It is useless. She is her own mistress, of course, in spite of her insistence that I am still her guardian; and she must be allowed to do as she likes in this matter. Make her home here happy, and do not trouble her. We must not make her quite--hate us!" His voice broke over the last two words, and he was gone before Mrs. Merideth could make any reply. Some twenty-four hours later, young McGinnis at the mills was summoned to the telephone. "If you are not too busy," called a voice that sent a quick throb of joy to the young man's pulse, "the other half of the committee would like to begin work. May she come down to the mills this afternoon at three o'clock?" "By all means!" cried McGinnis. "Come." He tried to say more, but while he was searching for just the right words, the voice murmured, "Thank you"; and then came the click of the receiver against the hook at the other end of the line. The clock had not struck three that afternoon when Margaret was ushered into the inner office of Spencer & Spencer. Only Frank was there, for which Margaret was thankful. She avoided Ned these days when she could. There was still that haunting reproach in his eyes whenever they met hers. Frank was expecting her, and only a peculiar tightening of his lips betrayed his disquietude as he turned to his desk and pressed the button that would summon McGinnis to the office.