She hurried down the stairs. The living-room was empty and the porch deserted. The dining-room table had not been set. In the kitchen the sink was piled high with dirty dishes, dish-towels hung over every chair, and a trail of grease-spots ran from pantry to back door. The kitchen table was pulled up before a window, and about it were seated David, with some canned peaches, Gassy, with a saucer full of ground cinnamon and sugar, and Jack, with a massive sandwich of cold beefsteak and thick bread. On the table were a bowl of cold baked beans, a saucer of radishes, a dish of pickles, and a bottle of pink pop. Barbara shuddered. “Where’s Ellen?” she asked. Jack looked up. “Ah, the authoress!” he exclaimed. “I judge from your appearance upon the scene of action that the fire of genius has ceased to rage in unabated fury.” [Illustration: WHY ARE YOU EATING IN HERE?] “Why are you eating in here? Where’s Ellen?” Barbara repeated. “In reply to your first question, to save carrying; in reply to your second, I canna say. I know not where she went; I only know where she deserves to go.” “Has she gone away to stay?” “In the language of the housewife, she has ‘left,’” said Jack. “I hurried home from the river, bringing two thirty-pound trout to grace the festal board, an hour ago. I found that if there was to be any festal board, I must supply both the festives and the boarding. The gas-stove had ceased to burn; the kitchen was still. Ellen had flown the coop. I was for calling you, but Gassy, here, was obdurate. She said that you had left orders with your private secretary that, come what might, you were not to be disturbed. Luckily, father telegraphed that he was not coming home until to-morrow. So, with the aid of my little family circle, I prepared the repast which you see before you. It was dead easy: each one took out of the ice-box his favorite article of food, and for a wonder, no two happened to want the same article. Fall to, yourself, fair lady; there is still some cold boiled cabbage in the refrigerator, and you have earned it after your valiant fight as bread-winner for the family this morning!” “Stop your nonsense, Jack. Didn’t Ellen make any explanation of her going?” “Like the girl in the ballad, ‘She left a note behind.’ It was written on the other side of a wonderful menu, which probably was the cause of her leaving. I don’t wonder it scared her off. The note lies there on the table.” Barbara picked it up. The page had been torn from the blank-book, and on it was scrawled:— “i am leving youse. my folks have been at me to come home, and i have desided not to stay where i cant holler, also i cant get no dinner like this, youse can pay my wages to the boy that comes for my close.” Barbara sank hopelessly into a chair. There seemed nothing further to be said upon the subject of Ellen. “Where’s Charles?” she inquired.