He himself had taken it from the letter-carrier's hand and had placed it on Miss Maggie's little desk. Casually, as he did so, he had noticed that it bore a name he recognized as that of a Boston law firm; but he had given it no further thought until later, when, as he sat at his work in the living-room, he had heard Miss Maggie give a low cry and had looked up to find her staring at the letter in her hand, her face going from red to white and back to red again.

"Why, Miss Maggie, what is it?" he cried, springing to his feet.

As she turned toward him he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

"Why, it—it's a letter telling me—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes on his face.

"Yes, yes, tell me," he begged. "Why, you are—CRYING, dear!" Mr. Smith, plainly quite unaware of the caressing word he had used, came nearer, his face aglow with sympathy, his eyes very tender.

The red surged once more over Miss Maggie's face. She drew back a little, though manifestly with embarrassment, not displeasure.

"It's—nothing, really it's nothing," she stammered. "It's just a letter that—that surprised me."

"But it made you cry!"

"Oh, well, I—I cry easily sometimes." With hands that shook visibly, she folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. Then with a carelessness that was a little too elaborate, she tossed it into her open desk. Very plainly, whatever she had meant to do in the first place, she did not now intend to disclose to Mr. Smith the contents of that letter.

"Miss Maggie, please tell me—was it bad news?"

"Bad? Why, of course not!" She laughed gayly.

Mr. Smith thought he detected a break very like a sob in the laugh.

"But maybe I could—help you," he pleaded.

She shook her head.

"You couldn't—indeed, you couldn't!"

"Miss Maggie, was it—money matters?"

He had his answer in the telltale color that flamed instantly into her face—but her lips said:—

"It was—nothing—I mean, it was nothing that need concern you." She hurried away then to the kitchen, and Mr. Smith was left alone to fume up and down the room and frown savagely at the offending envelope tiptilted against the ink bottle in Miss Maggie's desk, just as Miss Maggie's carefully careless hand had thrown it.

Miss Maggie had several more letters from the Boston law firm, and Mr. Smith knew it—though he never heard Miss Maggie cry out at any of the other ones. That they affected her deeply, however, he was certain. Her very evident efforts to lead him to think that they were of no consequence would convince him of their real importance to her if nothing else had done so. He watched her, therefore, covertly, fearfully, longing to help her, but not daring to offer his services.