“I am beginning to grow the least bit uneasy myself,” exclaimed madam, while Jenny waited for her permission to quit work. “I think it probable that Mrs. Neville is detaining her; you know, Jenny, that Mrs. Neville said she should probably meet Maggie at the bank and drive her home. If this is the case I shall scold Maggie severely, for she should certainly know better than to keep me in this suspense all this time. You may go, Jenny, but I do not think there is any cause for alarm. Maggie is certainly no baby; she is fully capable of taking care of herself.” Jenny did not wait to hear any further words from her employer. Her heart was sick with forebodings and fears for the safety of the friend she loved, and she left the shop in Forty-first Street looking like a little ghost. After Jenny’s departure, Madam Ward grew more uneasy with every passing moment, and at last, when darkness began to settle over the city, and the girls were making ready for departure, she called Emma Henry to her, and asked the latter to go to Mrs. Neville’s residence and see if the missing girl was still there. Emma started upon the errand gladly, for she could hardly have slept that night without being satisfied of Maggie’s safety. She had not been gone ten minutes when madam, whose face was pressed against the windowpane, uttered an exclamation of intense relief. Mrs. Neville’s car was drawing up before the door. “At last Maggie has come,” she said, half angrily, and hurried down to open the door herself in her impatience; but Maggie had not come. Mrs. Neville herself stood on the threshold, looking flushed and angry. “I declare, madam,” this lady began, “I shall never interest myself again in a shop girl. I took your pretty Maggie home with me to-day, and treated her like a lady, and here I find the silk I gave her to bring to you hidden behind my vestibule door. You know that I am in a great hurry for my dress, so I thought I would ride down and give you the silk, as I have other business in this direction. I do not quite like your favorite, Maggie. She was laboring under intense excitement to-day, and I confess her conduct displeased me. She refused to be driven back here in my car, and I think she went to meet some lover. I hope----” But Mrs. Neville never finished her sentence, for madam was wringing her hands, and weeping violently. “It cuts me to the heart to believe that Maggie is a thief,” she was sobbing, and Mrs. Neville smiled behind her embroidered handkerchief at the success of her cruel plans, while she affected to sympathize with the too trusting mistress of the unworthy girl. * * * * * During the short drive from the bank to the residence of Clara Neville, Iris preserved an unbroken silence. The shock of the revelation to which she had been an unwilling listener seemed to have deprived her of thought or action.