I had no right to give it to the poor woman with the baby, even if she had not immediately disappeared into her world of poverty, and it certainly did not belong to Lemuel, nor could I have given it to him, for he took the ten dollars the lover gave him and stayed out so late that he was late to work this morning and was discharged. He said he was going back to Texas. So I brought the handkerchief and the twelve acorns home, knowing you would be interested in hearing their story. When Mr. Billings had thus finished his relation of the happenings of his long evening, Mrs. Billings was thoughtful for a minute. Then she said: “But Rollin, when I spoke to you of the handkerchief and the twelve acorns you blushed, and said you had reason to blush. I see nothing in this kind action you did to cause a blush.” “I blushed,” said Mr. Billings, “to think of the lie I was going to tell Theodora Merrill Corwin--” “I thought you said her name was Theodora Mitchell Corwin,” said Mrs. Billings. “Mitchell or Merill,” said Mr. Billings. “I cannot remember exactly which.” For several minutes Mrs. Billings was silent. Occasionally she would open her mouth as if to ask a question, but each time she closed it again without speaking. Mr. Billings sat regarding his wife with what, in a man of less clear conscience, might be called anxiety. At length Mrs. Billings put her sewing into her sewing-basket and arose. “Rollin,” she said, “I have enjoyed hearing you tell your experiences greatly. I can say but one thing: Never in your life have you deceived me. And you have not deceived me now.” For half an hour after this Mr. Billings sat alone, thinking. III. OUR FIRST BURGLAR When our new suburban house was completed I took Sarah out to see it, and she liked it all but the stairs. “Edgar,” she said, when she had ascended to the second floor, “I don't know whether it is imagination or not, but it seems to me that these stairs are funny, some way. I can't understand it. They are not a long flight, and they are not unusually steep, but they seem to be unusually wearying. I never knew a short flight to tire me so, and I have climbed many flights in the six years we have lived in flats.” “Perhaps, Sarah,” I said, with mild dissimulation, “you are unusually tired to-day.”