Part 39 (2/2)

He had changed, but for the better, she saw that in a flash. His mouth was more firmly set, about his eyes was a more determined look. He was still a boy, but was fast gaining the outlook upon the world of a man.

”Tom!” Hertha cried again, ”what are you doing here?”

She held his arm in hers. ”Let go, Hertha,” he said in a tone of command, ”I must open the door.”

She loosed her hold and he drew the door open, but no one entered and they shot on up again.

”How far do you go?” she asked.

”To the eighth.”

”Well, stop here!” They were still alone, moving on above the sixth floor. ”Stop here, Tom, between these floors, please, please!”

Her voice was full of emotion and he turned his wheel and stopped at her bidding. He had seen her when she entered and his surprise was not great like hers. That she was a beautiful young woman, taking her place in the white world, was what he had expected. He felt pride in her pretty dress and graceful carriage; but he recognized her aloofness, her position with the dominant race. Now, however, as she grasped his arm and greeted him with the old, bright, comradely look, for a moment he felt himself her boy again.

”Why aren't you at school?” she demanded.

He was recalled to his position by repeated clicks of his indicator.

”You know, Sister,” the name slipped out unawares, ”I can't explain a thing like that between two floo's with the bells ringing for me above and below.”

”Then come and explain it to me to-night. You must, Tom. I'll do something desperate if you don't come.”

Her face was aglow with excitement, her eyes shone and she gripped her silk-gloved hands together.

Doubtful whether he should obey her, he still could not resist her pleading. ”All right, I'll come,” he promised and sprang the car upward.

They had another moment alone when she slipped her address in his hand and described rapidly the way to reach her home. ”Now I know you never broke your word,” she whispered as she stepped back in the bas.e.m.e.nt again.

Fearing that the slight delay she had caused in the running time of the elevator might arouse some criticism, she summoned all her courage, drew herself up with a more impressive air than she had ever yet a.s.sumed, and addressed the starter.

”I was glad to recognize that elevator boy of yours,” she said with condescension, ”he comes from my home town.”

”Yes, Madam,” the man answered.

”He is thoroughly trustworthy,” she went on, ”I know, for he has worked in my family.”

”I thought he was a good boy,” the man said, bowing to her, ”but we are always grateful for further references.”

Hertha nodded and made her way out.

It was not until she was almost at her doorstep that she remembered that she had failed to buy the top.

”I'm glad I didn't tell Bob I was getting it for him,” she thought remorsefully, ”but how should I remember it when I met Tom-of-the-Woods himself!”

During dinner, Mrs. Pickens, as she looked at Hertha from time to time, sitting silently in her place, thought she had never seemed so lovely.

Too often of late she had been worried and tired; to-night her face expressed a glad content, her pale cheeks were pink with color, and every now and then a look of expectancy came into her eyes. Something had happened, of this her landlady felt sure, and she regretted that she was going out and could not properly interrogate her pretty boarder.

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