Neither telegram nor any other message came from Justin, except the bare word that he had started home. Lois was not expecting him until nine o’clock on the second morning, the early trains from town were coming out at inconvenient intervals, but just as Lois had finished dressing, she heard the hall door open and shut. She called, but cautiously, for fear of disturbing her baby, who had dropped off to sleep again. Justin was standing by the table, looking at the newspaper, as she entered the dining-room. With a cry, she ran toward him. “Justin!” He turned, and she put her arms around him passionately. He held her for a moment, and then said, “You’d better sit down.” “But, Justin—oh, my dearest, how ill you look!” She clung to him. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you send me any word?” “I’ve been to Chicago.” “Yes, yes, I know. Why did you go?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t _know_?” “Lois, will you give me some coffee?” She poured out the cup with trembling hands, and sat while he took a swallow of the hot fluid, still scanning the newspaper. At last she said: “Aren’t you going to tell me any more?” “There isn’t any more to tell. There’s no use talking about it. I believe I had some idea of selling the island when I went to Chicago, but I don’t know how I got there. I didn’t know I was there until I woke up two nights ago at a little hotel away out on the West Side; Billy pounded on the door, and said they told him I had been asleep for twenty-eight hours. I suppose I was dead tired out. I don’t want to speak of it again, Lois; it wasn’t a particularly pleasant thing to happen. Will you tell Mary to bring in the rest of the breakfast? I must catch the eight-thirty train back into town. I ought to have stopped there, but I thought you might be bothered, so I came out first. Where are the children?” “They are coming down now with Dosia,” said his wife, helping Mary with the dishes, as the patter of little feet sounded in the hall. Redge ran up to his father, hitting him jubilantly with a small stick which he held in his chubby hand, and bringing irritated reproof down upon him at once; but Zaidee, her blue eyes open, her lips parted over her little white teeth, slid into the arm outstretched for her, and stood there leaning against “Daddy’s” side, while he ate and drank hurriedly, with only one hand at his disposal. Poor Lois could not help one pang of jealousy at being shut out, but she heroically smothered the feeling. “Mr. Harker was here the evening before last; he brought me some money,” she ventured at last. “That was all right.” “And Mr. Girard was very kind; he stayed here all that night—until your message came.” “I hope you haven’t been talking about this all over the place.”