Tom gazed steadily at David's back, his thin face wrinkled with thought. At length his head nodded, and he said to himself in a whisper: "So she t'inks he put me up to it, does she?" CHAPTER III A PROPHECY At the end of the afternoon, a few days later, a fierce battle was being waged in the basement room that was the Aldrich home, when a knock made David lower his defensive fists. "Ah, don't stop, pard," Tom begged of his cornered enemy. "Let 'em pound. It's just somebody else kickin' about de heat." "We'll only stop a second. Ask what they want, and say I'll attend to it at once." Tom, grumbling fiercely, opened the door. "What's de matter?" he demanded. "Ain't you got no heat?" But it was not an angry tenant who stepped in from the darkness of the hall. It was Helen Chambers. She was flushed, and excitement quivered in her eyes. She looked from one pillow-fisted belligerent to the other, and said, smiling tremulously: "I had thought there was no heat, but after looking at you I've decided there's plenty. Is this the way you always receive complainants?" Tom glanced guiltily at David, then darted behind Helen and through the door. David gazed at her, loose-jawed. Suddenly he remembered his shirt-sleeves. "I beg your pardon," he said, and in his bewilderment he tried to thrust his huge fists into his coat. "Perhaps you can do that"--again the tremulous smile--"but I really don't think you can." "I should take the gloves off, of course," he stammered. He frantically unlaced them, slipped into his coat, and then looked at her, throbbing with wonderment as to why she had come. She did not leave him in an instant's doubt. She stepped toward him with outstretched hand, her smile gone, on her face eager, appealing earnestness. "I have come to ask your forgiveness," she said with her old, direct simplicity. "I believed that you and the boy were--pardon me!--were stealing together; that you were letting yourself slip downward. This afternoon the boy came to me at St. Christopher's and told me the real story. I could hardly wait till I was free so that I could hurry to you and ask you to forgive me." "Forgive you!" David said slowly. "Forgive me for my unjust judgment," she went on, a quaver in her voice. "I judged from mere appearance, mere guess-work. I was cold--horrid. I am ashamed. Forgive me." Her never-expected coming, her never-expected words, rendered him for the moment speechless. He could only gaze into her fresh face, so full of earnestness, of appeal. "You do not forgive me?" she asked. David thrilled at the tremulous note in her voice. "I have nothing to forgive. You could not help judging as you did." Her deep brown eyes, looking straight into his face, continued the appeal. "I forgive you," he said in a low voice. "Thank you," she said simply; and she pressed his hand.