In the late afternoon she felt better, and rose and dressed herself, thinking that some of her factory friends would be sure to call after work hours. She was not disappointed, for about tea time Alice Stevens came in and gave her a hearty hug and kiss. The little girl slipped away to her mother, and then Fair said eagerly: “Alice, you’ve come to stay with me?” Alice’s pretty, good-natured face grew suddenly grave. “Oh, Fair, don’t be mad with me! I can’t stay. My mother isn’t willing.” “Why not?” asked Fair sharply. “Oh, because----” Alice stopped in embarrassment, and Fair understood without further words. “Your mother thinks I ought to live with that wretch?” she said disdainfully; and Alice’s sorrowful silence gave assent. “But--Lucy Miller?” the unfortunate girl asked falteringly. “I came by her house, and her father and mother wouldn’t let her come. They are more down on you even than my mother. I think it’s a shame. Lucy cried and begged, but it was no use.” Fair sat silent and frightened. What was she to do? She looked up presently, and said timidly: “Maybe your mother would let me come and stay at your house? I would pay her whatever she asked as soon as I got my wages.” Alice Stevens put her arms around her friend, and hid her reddening cheeks against her shoulder. “Oh, Fair, I wish she would, but”--with a half sob--“I asked her, and she said no, that Carl Bernicci might prosecute her for harboring his disobedient wife. Don’t blame me, dear; it wasn’t my fault.” “No, dear, I don’t blame you. Give my love to Lucy. I thank you both,” Fair answered, with a sort of apathetic despair, and, after a little, she told Alice of all that had happened last night. “You see how it is. I am always in danger from him, yet I cannot find one friend to stand by me in my trouble,” she cried bitterly. “I am so sorry! I only wish I might stay,” sobbed Alice Stevens, crying out of sympathy. She stayed a little longer, then rose, saying anxiously: “Fair, don’t you think you can get that good woman to stay with you to-night?” “I will try, dear, but then I shall have no one to go to work with me to-morrow, and, oh, I am such a coward I dare not go out alone,” Fair answered dejectedly. Alice regarded her in perplexed silence a moment, then blurted out: “Fair, I’m afraid you’ll have to give in and live with him for the sake of peace.” The beautiful brown eyes flashed angrily, and Fair cried out: “That is what they all say, but I will never do it--never! Why, Alice, if I could forgive him the deception he practiced on me, I could never pardon the death of my mother, which he caused. Before I would live with such a fiend as Carl Bernicci I would kill myself!” Alice went away sad at heart, but not half so sad as the hapless girl she left behind her, for a new suspicion had entered Fair’s mind. She began to fear that Sadie’s telegram was a bogus one, sent to draw her faithful friend away from her side.