"Yes, I know, I know." Impatiently she jerked off the rich fur coat and tossed it into his arms; then she dropped into the chair again and fell to wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?"

"But what is it?" stammered Mr. Smith helplessly. "Can't I do— something? Can't I send for—for your husband?"

At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.

"No, no! He's gone—to Fred, you know."

"To—Fred?"

"Yes, yes, that's what's the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!"

"Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'm so sorry! But what—IS it?"

The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half defiantly.

"Mr. Smith, YOU know Fred. You liked him, didn't you? He isn't bad and wicked, is he? And they can't shut him up if—if we pay it back—all of it that he took? They won't take my boy—to PRISON?"

"To PRISON—FRED!"

At the look of horror on Mr. Smith's face, she began to wring her hands again.

"You don't know, of course. I'll have to tell you—I'll have to," she moaned.

"But, my dear woman,—not unless you want to."

"I do want to—I do want to! I've GOT to talk—to somebody. It's this way." With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and forced herself to talk more coherently. "We got a letter from Fred. It came this morning. He wanted, some money—quick. He wanted seven hundred dollars and forty-two cents. He said he'd got to have it—if he didn't, he'd go and KILL himself. He said he'd spent all of his allowance, every cent, and that's what made him take it—this other money, in the first place."

"You mean—money that didn't belong to him?" Mr. Smith's voice was a little stern.

"Yes; but you mustn't blame him, you mustn't blame him, Mr. Smith. He said he owed it. It was a—a debt of honor. Those were his very words."

"Oh! A debt of honor, was it?" Mr. Smith's lips came together grimly.

"Yes; and—Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the door and hurried in.

"Yes, I know. Don't worry. We'll find something to do." Miss Maggie, white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie's trembling hands in both her own. "Now, first, tell me all about it, dear."

"You KNOW, then?"

"Only a little," answered Miss Maggie, gently pushing the other back into her chair. "I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just before he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?"