you. Father had a harness shop. You used to pass twice a day going to school and coming home."
"I remember your father. I broke my belt once, and he mended it for me and wouldn't take any money. He's well, I hope?"
She shook her head. "Father's dead," she said. "Your brother heard about it and came to see us. He was very kind and helped mother with money for the funeral."
"I'm glad to hear that about James."
The young woman shrugged her shoulders.
"Better come in," said John, "and rest. You've had a long walk."
She moved a little as if she were in a trance, and John finally led the way into the parlor, as he found difficulty in getting her to precede him. When she was seated he looked at her carefully, smiled suddenly but not very merrily and said:
"Why do you want to see my brother?"
She did not answer at once. But after quite a long silence she said: "I've got to see him."
"I wish you'd be frank with me and tell me why."
But she wouldn't be frank, at first. She set her lips in a straight line and stared past John at a picture on the wall. Her reticence, however, amounted to communication. And John's specu-
