had fought a boy who had told tales on her to the teacher. Hetty had never thanked him; she had even scolded and abused him for this knight-errantry, declaring her ability to take care of herself. Nevertheless, there was gratitude in her. She brought him apples, hiding them secretly in his desk.

On the Friday evening before the election, as has been said, Wint and Jack Routt played pool together at the hotel. Afterwards, in spite of Routt’s protests, they went together to the stairway in the alley; and when eventually Wint reached home, he was unsteady on his feet. His father and mother were abed. The door was never locked, so that he entered the hall without difficulty; but the only light was an electric bulb in the rear of the hall, near the kitchen door, and when he went back to extinguish this, he tripped over a rug and barely saved a fall.

While he was still tottering, the kitchen door opened and Hetty looked out at him. She had on her hat, so that he saw she, too, had just come in. He smiled at her amiably, holding on to the wall for support; and she laughed softly and came and caught his arm. “Oh, you Wint!” she chided. He tried to be dignified. “Wha’s matter?” he asked. “I’m all right.” She winked. “But if father could only see you now!” He became amiable again. “Thass all right,” he declared, “I’m going to bed. He’s sleeping th’ sleep of th’ just. Thass dad. Sleep of the just!” “Sure,” she agreed. “But you know what he’d do to you.” A door opened, in the hall above. A step sounded. Hetty, quick as light, led Wint under the stair where he was invisible from above, and signed him to be quiet. The elder Chase called down the stairs: “Who’s that?” “Me, Mr. Chase,” said Hetty. “I tripped. I’m sorry if I woke you up.” She heard Chase say something under his breath; but when he answered, his tone was affable. “All right. Time you were abed, Hetty.” “Uh-huh! I went to see my mother.” “That’s all right. Good night!” “Good night!” They heard him go back to his room, heard the door close behind him. Hetty crossed to Wint. She was trembling a little, and she spoke very gently. “Come up the back stairs, Wint. He won’t hear you. I’ll help you....” Wint took her arm. “You’re a good girl, Hetty,” he told her. “You come along.” They went through the kitchen to the back stairs, and up, Hetty steadying him and encouraging him in a whisper. Wint’s room was at the back of the house, on the second floor; his father’s at the front. Hetty’s was on the third floor. She helped him to the door of his room, and in, and turned on the light. He sat down and grinned amiably at her. She started to go, hesitated, came back and knelt before him. While he watched, not fully 

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