At last came the time when he could be spared from his farm, and to Chicago he journeyed. Positively this was one trip to that city that gave him no joy. He estimated before reaching there, that he should best not call up the house, but bide his time and try to meet his wife elsewhere. But when he arrived in the city, and not being a coward, he dismissed this idea and went directly to the house in Vernon Avenue.

He was met at the door by "Little Mother Mary," who did not greet him as she might have, but for certain reasons. The most she could do even to live in the same atmosphere with her husband was to pretend to act in accordance with his sentiments. Baptiste followed her back to the rear room where she took a seat and he sat down beside her. She had uttered no word of greeting, but he came directly to the point. "Where is Orlean?"

"She's out."

"Out where?"

"She just walked out into the street."

"How is she?"

"Better than when she came home," meaningly.

"When she was brought home," he corrected.

"Well?"

"But I am not here to argue whereof. I am here to see her."

"But she's out."

"However, she'll return, I hope. If not, then, where might I find her?"

"She'll return presently."

He was silent for a time while she regarded him nervously, listening in the meantime as if expecting some one. She was afraid. Her husband had left the city only that morning; but behind him he had left an escutcheon who could—and was, as capable of making matters as disagreeable. It was Ethel, and Mrs. McCarthy was aware that that one was upstairs. The household had been conducted according to the desires and dictates of the Elder. Wherefore she was uneasy. Baptiste observed her now, and made mental note as to the cause of the expression of uneasiness upon her face.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She did not reply, but sighed.

"What's the matter, Mother Mary?" he asked kindly. Her love and admiration asserted itself momentarily in the look with which she replied to him. How in that moment she wanted to tell him all, and to be to him as she had always wanted to be. But only a moment was she so, then that look of hunted fear overspread her face again, and she turned uneasily toward the stairs.

"Won't you tell me what the matter is, mother?" she heard him again. For answer the quick glance over her shoulder was sufficient. It was as if to say. "Hush! Enemies are near!" He then estimated that the Elder had gone to the southern part of the state, but Ethel must be near, and it was Ethel whom the mother feared. He understood then, that the Reverend had a cunning way of having Ethel do his bidding. Because she was possessed of his evil disposition, he could trust her to carry out anything on this order—that is, providing she disliked the person in question, and that was usually the case, for, like him, there were few people whom she really liked.