Jane Journeys On

anwhile it would keep her fingers busy and give her an excuse for lingering until Ethel came back with the news of her confession and its results, and she could be planning the holiday ch

e told herself flatly, she was pleased to the marrow of her bones to be here instead of there, not only in fresh fields and pastures thrillingly and picturesquely new, but away from the reckless necessity for settling the Marty Wetherby matter once and for all. And the big Irishman seemed almost

n and Mrs. Richards pe

had told him." There was a good deal of triumph in the glance she flung at J

rave. "Here's Irene, come for the

rprised," said Mr

her blue serge suit, brushed shiny, too thin for December wear. She carried a small str

y as well, Irene. You'

ing her on th

as she turned toward the st

good sister of the erring sister flushed painfully. "No

Daragh, sternly. "There is nothing better than

lute, "I won't worry about what she tells or doesn't tell. It's been hard enough on me,

he matron wa

lost the fight,"

ing's all right, but she had no chance to see Irene and expla

c and accusing eyes on Jane. "You made me tell," she said. "You made me!" And when J

t a steadying arm about her shoulde

e in the daytime. He was selling a necktie to a fat old man with a red neck. It was a dark blue tie with light blue spots on it." She added the detail carefully in her spent little voice. "I waited until he was gone and then I told Jerry. He just looked at me and looked at me, and made me say it again, and then-then he just walked away

ble, and the steady and rhythmic flow of the Irishman's voice. She rose to follow them, but the closed door halted her. They had wanted her to do

was none of her bright business? And why-chief of all whys-had she rashly and sentimentally offered to

l-belonged in the world of clean and pretty things and in that world she would stay. She decided against undignified flight; she would wait for Michael Daragh and walk home with him to Mrs. Hills' boarding house, and she would be very civ

ve repudiated her just the same; therefore she-Jane-might shake off her mantle of guilty responsibility. And after all, bleak as life looked to the little creature now, still sobbing stormily in Mrs. Richards' room, wasn't she safer than she would be married to her Jerry with that stalking secret?-"Whose happiness resteth upon a lie is as a spirit in prison." The whole world, the whole godly, gossiping, ferreting world, would have conspired together to tell him. Now she climbed nimbly to secure conviction in the eternal justice of things. The girl had gone gallantly, in garish daylight, holding her happiness in her hand, and told the truth. Now she was in the dust, but wouldn't it all come r

ty rose in Jane and

the steps with lagging feet, and he wa

little breathless with happy excitement. "Aren't you-I

is striped silk shirt and the royal purple of his hose struck it again, an octave lower. The removal of his velvet hat disclo

r knowledge of his identity, seemed to awake no wonder in him. He looked as

see Ethel

Jane, glad

ace luminous. The good sister was just finishing her packing of Billiken's belongings into the telescope and the child, snug

woman called after her, sharply.

a person in a dream, and opened the closed door boldly, without even a knoc

f and she sat leaning limply back, her eyes

d Jane, "her

rrowed with a cold and appraising scrutiny. Her hands twisted together in her lap; she seemed to

are for him then. She pulled Ethel to her feet. "Come," she said, i

e Irishman follow

ainst the baby's woolen cap. "Look!" she said

g through the gathering winter dusk.

and swollen face. "Say, listen," he began, "say, listen-" Then his gaze dropped to the child i

, between the sharp-visaged matron and the Irishman who looked like Botticelli'

blithely back at him with the wide little grin which had earned her the name of "the God of Things as They Ought to Be," she held out her

ched out for them both, and got the two of them into his arms. "It'll be O.K.," he said, huskily, winking hard. "It'll be O.K.! Say

f color on the matron's high cheekbones and her sharp eyes looked oddly dim. "Well," she said,

aid Michael Daragh, and his face had what

hank!" But she snatched up a bit of the despised decoration, her cheeks scarlet. "You know,-I'm so ha