wonderful project under way just now." 

 "And he doesn't care who suffers by it," charged Gresham, furious that she should be so well-informed. "You'll see that he'll involve Courtney's property with some of his old debts." 

 Constance's eyes widened. 

 "Do you think so?" she inquired as quietly as possible. 

 "Of course he will. His creditors are certain to take advantage of this immediately. I warned Courtney." 

 She hastily arose and went into the hall. 

 "Oh, Aunt Pattie!" she called up the stairs. "Mr. Gresham is here." Then to Gresham: "You'll excuse me for a little while, won't you? Aunt Pattie is coming down." 

 Five minutes after Johnny and Mr. Washer had gone, Constance Joy came into Johnny's office with carefully concealed timidity. Her manner was coldly gracious and self-possessed, and her toilet was perfect; but she carried one ripped glove. 

 "Is Mr. Loring in?" she asked with perfect assurance and also with suddenly accelerated dignity; for the stenographer was really quite neat-looking—not pretty, you know, but neat. 

 "He has just gone out," replied the stenographer with tremendous sweetness. Anybody could look pretty in expensive clothes like Constance Joy's. 

 There was a moment's hesitation. 

 "Is Mr. Gamble in?" 

 The girl smiled quite brightly. 

 "Mr. Gamble has just gone out," she stated, and smiled again. She was not at all pretty when she smiled—not by any means—neat, though. 

 "Could you tell me where I would be likely to find Mr. Loring?" asked Constance stiffly. 

 "Haven't the slightest idea," answered the girl happily, and gave her hair a touch. Ah! there was a rip under her sleeve! 

 "Do you know where Mr. Gamble has gone?" and Constance was suddenly pleasant through and through. 

 "Mr. Gamble?" repeated the girl, wondering at the 

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