BLANCHE UPRIGHT THE LOSING GAIN THE LOSING GAIN BY BLANCHE UPRIGHT AUTHOR OF "THE VALLEY OF CONTENT" NEW YORK W. J. WATT & COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1932, BY W. J. WATT & COMPANY Printed n the United State* of America TO THE LOVING MEMORY OF 3. $. a. I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 2138539 THE LOSING GAIN CHAPTER I MISS AMANDA PERKINS folded up her voluminous notes and placed them with her pencil in the black satin bag she always carried on her arm and which all San Leandro had come to know as her bade of trade. She sighed a bit as she turned to old Mrs. Howard who sat next to her in one of the vantage pews in the First Christian Church. "Beautiful, wasn't it?" she queried, her eyes following the newly made bride as she disappeared through the doorway, Evelyn Craig that was but a few moments before, Evelyn Grant now by virtue of the few sonorous words that had been pro- nounced over her by the reverend gentleman in the black frock coat who still stood in the chancel, smiling benignantly. Old Mrs. Howard grinned. "Wasn't it?" she agreed, then added: "Wonder how it ever came about?" "It was a beautiful romance, I understand," en- thused Miss Perkins who, having been society editor of the San Leandro Daily News for a length of time that passed the knowledge of those whose birthdays did not reach the count of those of Mrs. Howard's, could reasonably be expected to be an 2 THE LOSING GAIN authority on romance. "Though I'm not saying," she added quickly, "Evelyn Craig's chances were ever supposed to be the best before James Grant walked into her life " Old Mrs. Howard's grin broadened as her keen old eyes wandered about the flower-decked church. "Wouldn't," she asked meaningly, "wouldn't 'sidled' be the word you're meaning?" Looking back afterward, considering the romance of Evelyn and James in all its aspects, Miss Perkins was forced to admit that perhaps old Mrs. Howard had rightly earned her reputation of being a keen observer. For not even to those who liked him best, and James Grant was the kind of man whom everybody liked because there was so lacking in him any of that aggressiveness that makes enemies, he never seemed to be walking straightforwardly through life. Sidled was a good way to express his course, thought Miss Perkins, and there were others who agreed. Rather apologetic toward the world through which he walked, in fact. Which is reason enough for wonder as to how James Grant and Evelyn Craig had ever reached the point of marriage, or that beautiful church ceremony over which the society editor raved for a good half column the day after the wedding. Theirs was, in fact, one of those marriages which just happen. Slow, plodding, good-tempered, shy James Grant was the sort of man who is always re- garded as "steady," in that meaning of the word that indicated he could be depended on to bring home his pay envelope on Saturday nights, an envelope un- opened, to be handed to the lady whom he chose to share his life and pay check. That reputation of THE LOSING GAIN 5 steadiness met with the greatest approval from the Craig family when they "talked it over," a habit which with them amounted to a ceremony. "Evelyn's fine young man," was the encomium with which everybody, from old Samuel himself, old far beyond the years he might have been expected to live, down to the smallest Craig, spoke of James Grant when he came courting Evelyn. As to the girl her- self, there had been others aside from old Mrs. Howard who had been of the opinion she would go puttering through life alone. Once Evelyn had had ambitions; that was the time the old square piano in the front room out on, the Craig ranch had been opened and Evelyn had x set herself to conquering little pot hooks and rests on sheet music. But it had come to little. She found that, after a good deal of effort, she was able acceptably to render "The Maiden's Prayer," but as for music being a life work, there was something decidedly missing. In some ways she was pretty enough, but for some reason suitors passed the Craig ranch by aftef one or two tentative attempts to interest Evelyn in themselves, or to become interested in her. Prob- ably psychologists would have spoken of Evelyn as negative. She had never given the matter much thought herself. The question of ways and means of living was far more important. That was why, when thirty years of living loomed not far off, the girl had realized that life had narrowed itself down to one of two possibilities. She must get married, or she must get work. So, depending on the more assured one, she had taken up dressmaking, and the people of San Leandro who had known her all her life thought it an estimable conclusion. Then had 4 THE LOSING GAIN come James Grant, and the unexpected had hap- pened. Somehow, someway, he and Evelyn had made each other understand. Now they were married. Her wedding day was Evelyn Craig's triumph. How often had she been present at other weddings in that same church, the church where she and the other Craigs had worshiped all their lives; where she had herself been christened! How often had her own nimble fingers fashioned the garments worn by other brides, garments which had been folded into their boxes with a little sigh as the inconsequent dressmaker had resigned herself, time and again ; to fate. Miss Amanda Perkins outdid herself in de- scribing the wedding in the News. And it was a sight to be remembered. Never had the First Church looked more beautiful than it did in its garnishing of cherry blossoms from the Craig ranch, and the tendered garlands from the wondrous gar- dens of friends more prosperous. It was Miss Amanda, too, who gave just one hint of why those other gardens were more flourishing, a story that all San Leandro had known since they had known any- thing. "The bride," wrote the society editor, "who is, as everyone knows, the grand-daughter of that esteemed citizen of ours, Samuel Craig, walked up the aisle between the great boughs of cherry blossoms from her own home, that home in which also lives a pioneer of the days when our wonderful state was the mecca of seekers after gold, and one who might, had he chosen other than the sterling path he trod, to-day have been domiciled in a palace instead of in THE LOSING GAIN 5 the lovely old ranch upon which he settled in those old days " Samuel Craig had been a pioneer. As Miss Perkins suggested, he might, too, have become as wealthy as some of his confreres had he been possessed of equal business acumen. But like other Craigs, before and after him, old Samuel had been content to plod along, to "make both ends meet," and the meeting ends had not always been accom- plished without considerable stretching, albeit with a plodding complacency. Still, there was no one in San Leandro who did not know the Craigs, and re- spect them; not one who v was not anxious to do honor to Evelyn Craig on her Wedding day, the greatest event of her life, all the greater triumph because of its unexpectedness. Four bridesmaids in their fluffy beruffled gowns, a maid of honor with a bouquet almost as large as the bride's own, four black-frock-coated ushers, clustered about the newly married couple as they passed out of sight of the guests within the church to make their way to the waiting carriages. In eager tones they chattered congratulations, but it was Sarah Condon, the maid of honor, Evelyn's best friend, who voiced what they were all anxious to know. "And now," she said to the bride who glanced happily, shyly, at her life partner, "I suppose you and James will break all the silence and let us into the mystery. Where are you going what are you going to do? Would you believe it," and she turned to the others with outstretched gloved palms, "not even I have been able to find out one thing about their plans C THE LOSING GAIN "Yes, Jim, come on, tell us!" urged the groom's best friend as he clapped him heartily on the shoulder. "Is it San Jose, and the Hotel Vendome?" It was hard for Alex Holden to be- lieve that anyone could get married and not spend at least two days at the Vendome. It was all wrong to him, somehow, as it was to others of San Leandro, to whom such a schedule, through years of usage, had come to be all but part of a wedding ceremony. James Grant smiled his slow, non-committal smile. But he did not answer at once, as his eyes dropped to the bride at his side. It was she who spoke. "No," and her head shook slowly, "we we're going home!" The first intimation to anyone that James and Evelyn had been for weeks preparing their home in San Francisco, a home only a short distance away from the wholesale grocery firm of Tuttle, Brandon & Briggs where James Grant all but lived and had his being, where his plodding worth was recognized by the employing firm to the extent of a hundred and twenty-five dollars every month, a sum that had no little to do with the enthusiasm with which the Craig family had welcomed him as one of their clan. On their wedding day, their small flat on Capp Street, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth, was a home all ready for them to step into. To Evelyn Grant it was a place of wonder. That it remained so for many a year to come (always, in fact) is only a commentary on her loyalty, her love for what was her own! But how could anyone else reason other- wise, she declared, during that first hour of wonder when she and her newly made husband were alone in THE LOSING GAIN 7 that home for the first time. Just look at the lovely bath tub ! The hot and cold water ! Everything ! It was not altogether romance, however, that had persuaded the frugal two to forego a San Jose trip. Nor would anyone who knew either well have imagined it for a moment. They had "talked it over" in the Craig way, and had come to the con- clusion there were so many ways in which the money necessary for such a trip could be put to better advantage. Had they, perhaps, been madly in love with each other, as so many young people are, or imagine they are, during that rosy-hued interlude between engagement and marriage, x they might not have been so practical. Perhaps, too, in that case, the course of their years might have been different. But neither Evelyn Craig nor James Grant were capable of a mad love, a passionate one, or one re- quiring any extraordinary display of emotion. They loved each other, yes, but in a calm, sensible manner. They entered into a life partnership on the basis of having found each other thoroughly com- panionable, and believing in all sincerity that each was bettering his or her condition in all ways. Evelyn Craig's desire had been to marry a "steady" young man. James Grant filled the role to perfection. She had fulfilled her mission. James Grant's one thought had been to wed a sweet, refined girl who would make a good wife and mother. In selecting Evelyn Craig he felt certain he had chosen not only wisely, but well. Their life together began in the Capp Street flat in June, eighteen hundred and ninety-four. It 8 THE LOSING GAIN traveled along with the precise monotony of the per- fectly regulated eight-day clock, the winding of which was a weekly ceremony with the head of the house. Nothing ever ventured from its usual routine in the Grant household; variation was an unknown word in that establishment. Sarah Condon, returning to San Leandro after a visit to Evelyn a few months after her marriage, described the situation in her friend's home in a way to bring smiles to the faces of friends, but they were understanding, loyal smiles. Did they not all know Evelyn ? "It's this way," explained Sarah. "Every Mon- day she has beef stew for dinner; nothing could possibly induce her to change to veal or anything else. Then there are pork chops on Tuesday; hamburger on Wednesday, and everything just like that on through Friday and fish, and Sunday with the roast that must do duty later on in the week. Would you believe it, she has that schedule all written out in the little note book in which she keeps her recipes for cake, but why she needs the reminder is beyond me " Old Mrs. Howard nodded, fully comprehending. "And I suppose they're always at the church door on Sunday mornings when it is opened, and " "Oh, certainly," gushed Sarah, "and I couldn't even begin to tell you how they regulate everything 'else, everything, mind you Evelyn comes over here every Friday, as you know, to visit with her mother and grandmother, and " "And to 'talk things over'," cut in the elder woman, with a broad wink. ''Yes, and," continued Sarah, "James meets her THE LOSING GAIN 9 in front of Campis at six when she comes in on the five o'clock boat, and they have their fifty-cent table d'hote (fish comes in the middle of the day on Friday), and then at seven they're standing in front of the Tivoli Opera House with their twenty-five cent tickets in their hands, ready to join in the mad rush when the doors are opened and on Sundays the Golden Gate Park and the concert " Miss Amanda Perkins smiled the wise smile in which she always indulged herself, in view of her wider experience of life than the other members of the Rebecca Sewing Circle (Miss Amanda never missed a meeting, one, never knew what might happen, or be told). She bit off a thread in a competent way that might not be expected as the ac- complishment of a lady who made her living with pencil and typewriter. "What you might call a wild life, they lead, for a newly married couple," she commented. But old Mrs. Howard's smile was sage, the shake of her head all-wise, as she put in her few slowly spoken words. "Wonder, now, what babies will do to that there routine?" she asked. Which might have been a reasonable suggestion had it been made about anyone less methodical, less prone to excitement or to allowing an interruption to her ordered ways than Evelyn Grant. For come the children did, as was inevitable. But in no particular that could visibly be noticed, was changed the routine of the Grants, save that, of course, there were no longer visits to the Tivoli on Friday night, and there were no table d'hote's. It was probably the one and only time that James Grant might have been suspected of emotion, of any 10 THE LOSING GAIN sentiment that was subconsciously submerged, when there was laid in his arms the tiny mite of humanity with the moist dark curls and the blue eyes that opened wide, even in new life to gaze wonderingly at him. A strange thing, it felt like a throb in his throat, came to James Grant as he held his first child. Then he bent down and kissed the wee bit of embryonic femininity half apologetically, as he caught his wife's smile from the bed on which she lay, pale and weak. "My our little Norah!" he whispered. "My own!" CHAPTER II IT might not be straining the facts to say that, for the first moments his firstborn lay in his arms, there had been something prophetic in James Grant's vision, that he sensed that that child was destined for things far greater than he or the child's mother had ever dreamed. But if there was that meager glimmering, it was gone in even less time than it takes to record it. Little Norah, she was named Norah, after his mother in Scotland, who promptly sent a box of in- fants' clothes and twenty-five dollars, was not many hours older before her father was once more the plodding, methodical man who was such an efficient employee of his wholesaler employers. For just that moment, he had considered his child, a wonder child. Then he had promptly gone back to the consideration of ways and means for her support. On the day the box arrived from Scotland, Evelyn Grant was sitting up. Still a bit pale and wan, propped among her pillows, it was nevertheless char- acteristic of the girl who, wanting a "steady man," had got James Grant, that she was not busying her- self with anything frivolous on this, the first day of her taking up once more her routine life. In front of her lay the familiar note book; beside it, another much like it, brand new, but with only a few entries, so far. Evelyn's brow puckered as she wet the tip of her pencil in her mouth, and stopped to glance up 11 12 THE LOSING GAIN at her mother, seated near the window, her own fingers busy with the crocheting of a new sacque that was to warm the child sleeping in her cradle at the foot of the bed. For the moment, both were silent, but the work in the note book was evidence the Craigs had once more been "talking it over." "Now, let's see, mother," mused the younger mother. "Have I got it all straightened?" She picked up the note book to read from the entries. "Six o'clock, warm milk; eight, sponge bath, mm mm outing;" the pencil poised over each word, "mm mm nap bed at five o'clock yes, that will give me plenty of time, and " The ring at the bell stopped the musing. Open- ing the door, Mrs. Craig betrayed surprise at the un- wieldy box the expressman delivered. Even before attempting to open it, she examined the strange, foreign labels. "From Edinburgh," she announced, as she turned it over and over, one hand reaching for the scissors to cut the strings. Evelyn beamed complacently. '"Clothes, probably," was her comment, as the light of economy showed in the eyes worried with note book notations. "That will be splendid, such a saving " When strings were cut, though, and the donation of the elder Mrs. Grant displayed to her daughter- in-law, the dying fire in those eyes might have a little chilled the woman whose gift was there. In all likeli- hood, there was or had been somebody, somewhere, in the Grant family, though he or she may have been buried so deep in the past oblivion as never to have been discovered, who had a wee bit of sentiment in his, or her Scotch nature. It had not been a heritage THE LOSING GAIN 13 of either James Grant's or his mother's generation. Yet when the elder Mrs. Grant had packed and sent that box, with her frugal idea of spending as little as possible, she had written: "... and most of these wee garments were worn by Jamie and his brother. They have lain away these years, . . . they may be of use to the bit daughter ..." Evelyn Grant handled the hand made dresses, petticoats and other bits of handiwork with her faint sigh. So fine they had been once; so hopeless now. Her practiced fingers, slipping along creases, went through the material to expose a needle-pricked finger tip. With her there was no sentiment; no tender feeling that her own husband, once a baby himself, had once worn those tiny, old-fashioned things; that his own baby fingers had worn to their thinness the small sleeves. Only the practical side of their utility appealed to her. She laid them all back into their box carefully, after as careful a survey. Watching, her mother did not fail to see the disap- pointment. "Let's not examine them further now," soothed the practical Mrs. Craig. "We'll talk it over later. "This check, now, it will start a nice bank account for baby." It was not until weeks later, after Evelyn had done her best to remodel some of the garments, with no sign of success, since they seemed virtually to fall to pieces under her fingers, that she gave up making any use of the gift from small Norah's Scotch grand- parent. 14 THE LOSING GAIN Things went along smoothly, once more, on Capp Street, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth. Every morning the sun came up, tingeing the Golden Gate. Birds in the square twittered and picked up crumbs much as they had always done, as James Grant swung out of his entrance and into the street, bound for his car, Tuttle, Brandon & Briggsward. Newsboys flopped the same looking papers with much the same sort of headlines down in front of doorways with much the same sort of abandon; milkmen clinked bottles onto doorsteps as they have from time im- memorial; ash-carts thumped their way with a clattering of cans; cars zoomed along with a clang- ing of bells as their quota to a morning orchestration. James Grant started to work in the wholesale gro- cery; waited on his steady customers; went home; had dinner. That was how the old world ran along, as it had run along so long; gave evidence of running along indefinitely. One might as well have hoped for the tide to turn westward from the coast at flood, as to have expected change. There were a few, of course. Twice James and Evelyn had to forego their Sundays in Golden Gate Park as usual, with James proudly carrying his off- spring, but that was only an intermission, to be resumed with James carrying another a few weeks later, with his eldest toddling happily along, small Norah, able to walk and take notice of things for herself. Twice more, after Norah's birth, the doctor came to the Grant home; the same number of times James Grant failed to appear at the regular hour at Tuttle, THE LOSING GAIN 1* Brandon & Briggs', only to appear a short time later with the happily embarrassed announcement that brought smiles and congratulatory words from fel- low employees. For James was raising a family; it was part of his chosen routine; it could not be de- parted from, any more than could the regularity of the tides at King Canute's command, or that of the sun at the word from Joshua, no matter who has believed the tale of the imaginative Israelite his- torians to other effect. When Norah was four and a half, her small sister, Susan, two, and James Junior had but made his ap- pearance in life, the father of that Capp Street family congratulated himself on being the luckiest of men. True, he had small hope of ever going beyond the hundred and twenty-five a month he was collecting as regularly as the book-keeper in the office of his employers added up figures, but he was content. True, he and Evelyn had never been able to save much, but he was content. Content as the wife herself, congratulatory because of bills paid, money for doctors and new layettes at each appear- ance of a new Grant, and the possibility of meeting the payments on a two-thousand dollar life insurance policy. It was assured, a certainty, that it would take something cataclysmic to change the ordered routine of the lives of the Grants. It would have been evident even to the casual observer, this thing that more advised friends took as for granted as the ris- ing and setting of the regular sun. More so, for sometimes the sun did not rise, even over San Francisco, on these days when a murky brown haze that rivaled a famed London fog hung over the city 16 THE LOSING GAIN from the Golden Gate to the Ferry. But the Grants had breakfast; James Grant went to work; Evelyn Grant cared for her children, and consulted her small black book as to what should be for dinner. With life drawn in a straight and narrow line, nothing ever marred the tranquillity that reigned supreme in that one household. Even the luxury of an argument was an unheard-of thing, for, in a home managed with such regularity, with lives so disposed, there was no need for the atmosphere-clearing that is so life-giving in other homes of a man, a woman, and their progeny. It came more like a thunderbolt than an earth- quake, that imperative cataclysm that jolted the un- joltable. The Grant household at last was jarred out of its calm. But with that jarring there was an earth upheaval that shook foundations of stone and granite, that tumbled vast skyscrapers into the dust to become the fragments from which they had sprung. There came to the Grants, living peacefully through their lives in San Francisco, that same thing that brought from the whole world stricken gasps of shuddering commiseration when it became known a city had been desolated, a community of thousands of souls laid waste within the twinkling of an eye, the earthquake that will go down in the accounts of his- tory as has the telling of the destruction of Nineveh and Tyre; the flood that brought fame to a man called Noah, the San Francisco earthquake and fire. The Grants were awakened from their lethargy; not they alone, but the thousand around them, in the horror of swift-moving disaster, earth tremor, and its accompanying fire, that swept along in its wide- THE LOSING GAIN 17 swirling path, spreading, like an enraged demon, from housetop to housetop, forcing the panic- stricken people of San Francisco to flee from their homes, to seek what refuge they might in outlying districts, the park, the beach, anywhere, everywhere that could possibly afford scant protection from the monster that traveled with lightning rapidity on its remorseless journey of destruction. At five-eighteen on the morning of April the eighteenth, James Grant, with a shock to which he was unaccustomed, sat straight up in bed and reached frantically for the wife who slept peacefully beside him. "Evelyn!" he cried, half choked. "For God's sake, wake up! The end of the world has come!" Startled, breathless, only half out of the peaceful dreams from which she had been so rudely shaken, Evelyn Grant sat up, as bidden, and looked dazedly about her. What was that James was trying to say? The end of the world had Yes, it must be so ! How queer things were ! The bureau, the chiffonier, all such familiar things were walking straight away from their accustomed places to dance in the middle of the neatly swept floor; the chandelier, too, was swaying back and forth like a drunken thing, threatening momentarily to leave its staid ceiling moorings and come tumbling down to land in the middle of the bed. From somewhere outside, it must be from the kitchen, there came singular sounds of jingling and crashing as though every dish, bottle and kitchen utensil in the place had gone on a mad spree. In her half conscious brain there incon- tinently flashed that absurd picture in Norah's Mother Goose Book of the dish running away with 18 THE LOSING GAIN the spoon, and the spoon's silly grin. Then she came to, wide awake, with a shudder of horror, of query, as to what it all meant. From the flat below there sounded, in the one minute's hush as the furniture ceased to dance, a succession of wild screams as an accompaniment to the shower of bricks that fell directly in front of their bedroom window. That shower of bricks was at least a concrete thing to Evelyn Grant. With one trembling hand she grasped her husband's night-shirt sleeve. "Jimmie! Jimmie!" she cried, in a half awed, half hysterical whisper. "What is it, oh, what has happened?" Already, though, James Grant was shaken out of the land of dreams to a realization that the thing his city had so long dreaded had become a reality. "It's an earth-quake, dear, and believe me, it's a real shake this time and no mistake! I've felt others, but this " In one leap he was at the window, careless of his wife's restraining hand. A long drawn whistle escaped him. "Whew! Looks like every chimney in the block is down, and more to come " Down in the street into which he gazed with awe, as Evelyn's terror-stricken eyes took in in one glance the early dawn scene, tumbled bricks, cornices, whole fronts that tottered crazily in a world that seemed to tremble all over, before they gave up the struggle to stand up and fell. Even as the man and woman gazed, the street became alive with screaming, frightened men, women, children; clad only in their night clothing for the most part, oblivious of every- thing save the animal instinct to escape from the thing they so feared, principally because they knew so little of what it was that threatened. THE LOSING GAIN 19 It was this sudden realization that turned Evelyn with a choking cry toward the inner bed- room where small Norah and smaller Susan slept. "The children!" she screamed hysterically. Her one glance out of the window had been but of a second's duration, yet it seemed to her now, as she fled to the closed door, that she had been gazing an eternity while her children slept, or "There's not a sound coming from their room!" she choked. Simultaneously father and mother reached the separating door and threw it wide open. Even in his stress, something of a film came to James Grant's eyes at what he saw. For, sitting up in bed, her arms protectingly about her smaller sister, sat Norah Grant, calm, maternal, as she soothed. "Hush, hush, Susy," she was saying, "stop cry- ing! Nothing's going to hurt you it's only a war in Chinatown, like papa was telling us about the other night! They only shoot Cliinamen, so you needn't worry " She glanced up as Evelyn flew across the room to fall on her knees by the bed, holding both children in an all-embrace. "Here's mama and papa, now," she went on, quite as coolly, "so you see it's all right. A sob came into the mother's throat, as she, too, took her turn at soothing. "There, there, dear, it's all right," she assured, though her own heart was quaking at the possibility of what might be happen- ing outside the home where danger was threatening in each of her own swaying household gods. It was not till long after that either James or Evelyn knew that the brunt of the disaster had passed them by. What had happened to them had been frightful 'enough, but they knew later that had the thing fallen on them that so many San Franciscans knew that 20 THE LOSING GAIN morning they would neither have been looking out the window for that moment at wreckage, nor have taken time in the soothing of their children. But 'danger, Evelyn knew, was abroad. Hurriedly she lifted the two children from their bed. "Is it a war, papa?" Susy's small shivery voice piped up. And James Grant, worried father, could not restrain a smile. "Guess not, dear," he said, "though it did sound like one, didn't it? No, we've been having an earth- quake, and " He glanced anxiously about as a second, though less perceptible tremor, shook the building; rattled the loose ornaments. "Looks like this thing isn't over, Evelyn," he went on. "We'd all better be getting into our clothes and out of here " Only Norah was undisturbed. "Oh, an earthquake!" she observed, as she pursed her lips in thought. "I can tell you all about them we learned about them in school only this week!" "Well, we may all learn a lot more about them, my child, if we're not careful," admonished the father. "Into your clothes, quick, youngsters!" At the cribside of young James, the mother stopped. "Will you just look at this!" she exclaimed, as she looked down at the peacefully sleeping cherub. "Slept right through it all!" James Grant, busy with a shoe string, shook his head. "Wish he might pass all the bad things of life as 'easily," he said, "but " CHAPTER III UNLIKE so many victims of the earth's fury that never-to-be-forgotten morning, the Grants did not lose their home, though it was a pretty wrecked one when they found themselves once more in a position to pick up the loose ends and try to go on in their simple way after the catastrophe. It was all so nightmarish, this disturbing of life's routine, a nightmkre following the hysteria of the days while the city lay in ruins, while fire added to the terrors, wiped out homes, fortunes, life ambitions. To Evelyn, and to James, too, it all seemed so unreal. There were the unusual crowds in their home; the woe-begone, bedraggled nonde- scripts who but a few days before had been as happy and ordered families as that of the Grants them- selves, whom that few hours had made into home- less wanderers. And like everyone else in San Francisco during those days, everyone who had left even a semblance of a home, the home of the Grants had been thrown open to whomsoever needed it. They had even begun to believe that they were to be congratulated on being so much better off than their once neighbors (for did they not still have their home, each other?) when the worst blow fell. To many men this would not have been so catastrophic; to a man of James Grant's habits, it was like taking away the foundations of his whole existence. For the house of Tuttle, Brandon & Briggs had 21 23 THE LOSING GAIN fallen into the maw of the conflagration; fallen, he was to learn, never to rise again. Of course, they had known that the place where the father of the family had worked for so long had been destroyed, but it never occurred to Evelyn or to James that it would not be rebuilt. When James first heard it, he refused to believe. To think that he would no longer be part of that house where so much of his existence had been spent was more than he could reason out. "It simply can't be so," he told his wife when he heard the news. "I'll go to Mr. Tuttle myself, and he'll tell me the truth." "It's only too true," said his employer, in telling him that dreaded truth. "We've been in business for thirty-five years, and while I personally hate to think of retirement, Brandon and Briggs haven't quite the courage to start over again." It was a stunning blow for the man who had been with the same firm for twenty years, first as errand boy when he had come from Scotland, later to work up to the competence which made him so desirable a parti for Evelyn with the Craig family. He was surprised for the second time when he dis- covered that his wife did not view the matter one half so seriously as he did himself. "Well, we'll have to talk it over," she told him. "Of course you'll get excellent references who knows but what you'll get even a better place somewhere else so many are rebuilding." So they were; but so, too, were not only old employees being taken back, but there were women and girls w r ho, for the first time in their lives, must go out into the world of livelihood making, willing, for many reasons, to give their services for far less THE LOSING GAIN 3 than any man could be employed; especially such a man as James Grant to whom his former salary had been a minimum for the actual necessities for his family. It was a month before he found anything he could do, a month through which he walked with bowed head, all other signs of trouble he saw on all sides of him forgotten or unheeded as he faced this one great big thing in his own life; while he searched and searched for work. The great piles of crumbled stone and ashes of what had once been prosperous businesses became synonomous only with the shattering of his own hopes. Men and women he met in the streets, eager, buoyant with that hope which has ever made the Californian never say die, in their own scurrying to lift their city from the ashes, meant to him only so many obstacles in his own way toward earning the needed living. And then at the end of the month, he found what he was looking for, but it was almost with a sense of shame, and net with any air of triumph or eagerness that he wended his way homeward to tell his wife he had found a place in Oakland. "It's twenty-five a month less money," he said 'dubiously, if not dolorously, "and and there's the commutation, and " "Never mind!" Evelyn, wakened through the catastrophe to a sense of other things than routine more than her husband, was jubilant. She had been hiding behind the same sort of mask now, for there were many moments when she wondered just what they were going to do, those moments when the bills, hitherto an unknown thing, came in. James Grant opened his eyes at the strange thing she did. Evelyn 24 THE LOSING GAIN had never been given to demonstration, and for years now she had not given even a semblance of it, but she came straight to him and put her arms about him as she did his children. "It's all right, dear," she told him. "We'll manage, splendidly. I'd say go to Oakland ex- cept for Norah, she's doing so well at school, and then she will graduate next term, no," she seemed to think seriously, weighing the subject, "I think we'd best stay here I'll economize someway to make up the commutation money " James Grant's own arms closed tightly about his wife. He could not help a bit of wonder at it, though, all the time. It was so foreign to both their ways, this. "Wonder girl!" he half choked. "Who could help succeeding with a wife like you? I will, I promise you I will!" But to will is one thing; to execute another; as the husband was to find out. Too long had he been a fixture; too long had he grown in one place. He could not stand transplanting. He had not been with the new firm two weeks be- fore he knew that to work for one concern for nearly twenty years, then try to accustom himself to the methods of another was by no means a thing easy of accomplishment. To begin with, the methodical regularity by which he had lived for years was abolished. He was obliged to rise an hour and a half earlier every morn- ing in order to reach his work in time; and where for many years he had never remained at his desk a minute after six, he found himself working at least three nights a week until ten; even eleven-thirty. THE LOSING GAIN 25 The whole world to him was changed. He hardly ever saw the children except on Sundays. In the mornings when he left they were not up; on nights when he returned late from work, they were in bed. The few evenings he did come home early, he usually suffered with such headaches that he could scarcely wait to get to bed himself. To many men these things would have meant nothing at all. Adaptation to the change of condition would have meant only a short time. With James Grant it was different. To him, routine, the doing of regular things in the old, regular way, was the breath of life itself. Of a sudden, he had found his constitution and disposition thrown into a veritable turmoil. So smoothly had his life run along that the variance from its regular routine was as serious as a catas- trophe would have been to the average man. To San Franciscans it is a strange thing how the impression has gone out to the rest of the world that their city is always a land of sunshine. There is no other place in the world they love so much, or that could in the slightest degree take its place in their hearts. But they will tell you that there come times when the wind blows cold down from the north, when the chill of the dampness cuts through like a knife. Not long, such times; but unforgettable. It was on one such night in December that James Grant stood on the deck of the boat from Oakland, impatiently waiting for the landing. Near him stood a woman wrapped snugly in furs that alone could withstand such breaths of Boreas, gusts that all but swept them all from the deck. Once he heard her laugh, as her companion, a big man in a huge over- 26 THE LOSING GAIN coat, gripped her arm to aid her in standing. Grant shivered. Why, these people seemed actually to be enjoying this thing, this blow that was cutting into his very lungs, his heart. It was but a few days be- fore Christmas, and he tried to think of that. In- distinctly he heard the woman's voice as it came to him through the gusts. " and they'll probably think it not much of a Christmas tree this year, but think of the children in San Francisco who " Even while he pulled his own threadbare over- coat farther up about his neck and thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, the man was thinking of his own children; of his Norah, his Susan, James. " and they probably won't think it much of a Christmas this year " he started to repeat. But James Grant was not to know what those children thought of that Christmas, at least not through any words they would be able to speak to him. He could not get his mind off his own physical misery, try as he might. Again and again he tried to stop the chattering of his teeth, unavailingly. Only dimly he listened to the clanking of the chains as the ferry was tied to her dock; then he found him- self rushing with the others over the gang plank and running for his car. He never remembered just how he got home, but still in that dim hinterland of "somewhere" he knew he was staggering into his room and that before he fell across the couch he heard his own gasp to his wife: "I'm very sick!" And Evelyn, staid, unimaginative Evelyn to whom her husband and children had ever been the same to care for, knew. Even as she threw her striped shawl THE LOSING GAIN 27 over him before she ran to telephone for a doctor, she knew that her husband had spoken truly, that he was indeed very sick. A week later, when he fell into a peaceful sleep from which he never awoke, she knew that all the disruption of her routine which had been brought about by the earth- quake, by the loss of her husband's position, was as nothing to this; this real disruption of her life. They had grown so used to each other, she and Jim. And now Wearily she tried to co-ordinate facts in her head as she sat in her own darkened room day after day after they had taken Jim away. She was so stunned. She could not think. Only vaguely she realized that, though matters were being taken out of her hands for the time being, that it was only a matter of a short time until she would have to take up her burden again, face life in all its reality and without the strong arm of her husband on which to lean. She knew it best that night when her mother (Mrs. Craig and an uncle of Evelyn's had come over from San Leandro to take charge of affairs for her during the first stunning shock after her husband's death) softly opened her bedroom door and whispered for her to come into the living room for a few moments. Pale, distrait, little interested, the mother of Norah and Susan and James Junior, dropped into the rocker her uncle pushed forward. She did not at first glance up when her mother began to speak. "Evelyn, child," said Mrs. Craig, softly, "we 'don't want you to think we're hard, or that we're un- sympathetic, but but don't you think we're right, isn't it right to Jim's memory, that we should get together and talk it over?" 28 THE LOSING GAIN Evelyn nodded. There was for once something so comforting in that homely, well-used Craig phrase of "talking it over." She passed her hand wearily across her burning forehead. "I I know, mother," she admitted. "I have been thinking things over, I know I must do, must for the children, and " Dave Craig assumed a business manner which was a most unusual one for him as he pulled a packet of papers from his pocket. "Now here is how you stand," he began. "I've attended to everything, have it all down here in black and white, and after paying up everything from the insurance, you have twelve hundred dollars. Now, it seems to me " The widow allowed herself the ghost of a smile. Uncle Dave was such a child where business matters were concerned, himself. Some inner consciousness told her that she could not, must not try, to depend on him or her mother any longer, but that she must face life squarely, for her children's sake. "A lot of money for about a year," she ad- mitted. "Then " She glanced around the room, and her hand swept toward the articles she named. "That's not all my assets. See, I have the furnishings of these five rooms, worn considerably it's true, but still livable, one square piano that is usually out of tune, and " a vague light came into her eyes as she moved her hand again toward her sewing machine where it stood in the window, " yes, I have that!" Old Mrs. Craig was relieved. "Then you think you can " she began, and her daughter nodded. "I think I will see that my children do not want," THE LOSING GAIN 29 she said firmly, and it was then that there seemed to drop from her the lassitude that had been there since her husband's death, a lassitude that was never to return during the working, plodding years that fol- lowed while she proved herself. She went on hurriedly, seemingly anxious that they should not question her too much. "Yes, I have had time for planning, a little and here is what I think. Susan of course, must keep on at school, and Jimmie. That much must be done for children of nine and ten. As for Norah, well, she'll graduate in June, and then she must be helped to find something to help, too " Just for a moment her heart failed her. What a pity it was to deprive Norah of her chance of High School; Norah, the brilliant, on whose education she had so set her heart; Norah, who even at twelve, was so anxious, eager, to learn. Once more the mother passed her hand across her face to stifle the sigh that rose, as she told herself, and the husband she could not see, but whom she knew understood, that it could not be helped. Old Mrs. Craig rose and reached for her bonnet that lay on the center table. "Then that's settled," she said, and a deep breath of content rose from her voluminous black-waisted chest. "I always say there's some way out of everything, if you just talk it over rightly. I'm sorry I can't stay, but things are all going to pot, they've telephoned me from home, and I guess I'll have to be getting along." For the first time in her life, there was a little feeling of thanksgiving in the heart of Evelyn Grant as she bade her mother and uncle good-by, and turned back into the familiar sitting room, to find 30 THE LOSING GAIN herself alone in the home she had known for so many happy, quiet years with the man who had gone. In the center of the room she stood, steadying her- self with one hand on the center table, as she gazed down into the eyes of the photograph which seemed to smile encouragement as they looked back at her. A prayer rose to her lips; a prayer for strength, to go through with all that life would require of her. Through the silence, she heard the sound of the deep-toned organ in the church down the street. The choir was singing. She could just make out the words : " Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed, For I am thy God, and will still give thee aid, I'll strengthen thee, help thee, cause thee to stand, Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand. ..." CHAPTER IV " A RE you very much disappointed, Norah, child?" /A Mrs. Grant laid aside her sewing to look "* ** at Norah with sympathy and a motherly yearning that made her use every effort to keep steady the voice that wanted to tremble. For a moment the child hesitated. Little puckers in her forehead proved she herself was fighting a battle that was unusual for a girl whose years had reached but twelve. "A little perhaps, mama, dear," she finally said. "You know I did work hard to finish grammar school this year so I could go to High, and, well, maybe I can be forgiven for being that tiny little bit disappointed now that I must give up school alto- gether and my music lessons, too." "I'm so sorry, dear, but losing your father so suddenly and " Norah did not fail to see the quiver of her mother's lips, the little tremor she tried so valiantly to withhold. "There have been so many unexpected changes, and I I " Impulsively the girl threw her arms about her mother who leaned over to run her fingers caressingly through her daughter's dark curls. One tear trickled, unbidden, down her cheek. It had been so hard, this; this thing of telling her child she must give up all the things that her young heart most de- sired. She had so wanted Norah to have the educa- 31 32 THE LOSING GAIN tion the girl herself craved; she was such a bright child. Perhaps one of the hardest things the mother had had to do since the father had gone away and she had so bravely taken up the burden of living and caring for her children herself had been to break the news to her eldest child that henceforth she, too, must be one of the bread winners. She had put it off till the last moment, but at last it had come. The opportunity seemed to make itself. Norah had run in from school much earlier than the other two, and had dropped down on a small footstool to talk to her mother. There was no one else about, Norah had started planning what she intended doing. Evelyn Grant knew she must at last tell her what was in store. Even knowing the sturdiness of her child's character, she had in a way rather expected an out- burst of tears, and now she waited while Norah clung to her neck. But there were no tears in the girl's voice when she spoke. Her thought was not of herself, but of the mother whose voice ha'd quavered. "Oh, mama," she begged, "please please Hon't cry. Don't you worry, either. Really, I don't mind giving up school at all; and anyway I can study at home. I'm no different from anyone else, am I? And isn't life supposed to be full of disappointments, anyway?" She spoke with all the gravity of a phi- losopher of five times her age. In spite of herself, Mrs. Grant smiled, a bit rue- fully, though, as she burst out: "Oh, Norah, you funny, funny little thing! Where in the world did you get such ideas in your twelve little years? You always were a baby with a woman's head on your shoulders, though," she added reminiscently, as THE LOSING GAIN 33 there flashed through her own head the thousand quaint little sayings and doings of Norah during her babyhood, over which she and James had so often laughed. "That was why," and she spoke as one woman to another, "I felt so sure you'd see how matters are, and be willing to help me." "Why of course! There couldn't be a question of anything else." The girl looked up into her mother's face with steady eyes. "I'm twelve, al- most grown up, and I'm sure you and I together can easily take care of Jimmy and Susy." She dropped once more to the footstool and clasped her hands about her knees. "Go on with your sewing, dear," she recommended. "I know you can always think best when you're doing something. Let's talk it all over, and we'll see what is best to be done." And as Evelyn Grant obeyed, another little smile chased itself across her saddened countenance, as she noticed the phrase. It was Norah's initiation into the art of "talking things over." The child snuggled herself delightedly. It was wonderful to be taken into her mother's confidence, and she made up her mind right there that she would then and for- evermore be worthy of the trust. But even as she thought, a small pang or two shot through her brave young heart for the music she must forswear. It was of this that she spoke first. "Of course, I won't have to give up my music, altogether," she said. "I can practice in off times, and I'm sure I shan't forget what I've learned from Mrs. Wagner. Why, just think how lucky I've been so much luckier than lots and lots of girls! Why, I've had lessons two or three times a week for ever and ever so long and I have a lot to work on " 34 THE LOSING GAIN Brave little heart! thought the mother as she gathered herself together for the needed talk-fest. No one knew better than she what this particular denial meant to the small daughter. Her love of music had so often been remarked. It had been, in fact, a veritable revelation to her teachers and parents. Evelyn Grant, as she considered, was re- membering how the girl would spend all her spare time practicing, sitting at the old square piano for hours at a time; and of what she, Evelyn, had once said to her own mother. "It's the strangest thing in the world," she had remarked. "She's so little like other children! You can't make her go out and play. When she's not helping me, she's either reading or practicing. I can't understand where such love of music comes from. I can't play a note, now that I've forgotten 'The Maiden's Prayer' and a few such, and neither can her father." "I can explain it." Mrs. Craig shook her head wisely. "Do you remember that you and James never missed a Friday night at the Tivoli, or a Sunday concert all through the time Norah was com- ing? Why, the child's marked " "Mother!" Evelyn had laughed. "I can't believe in all that old-fashioned nonsense! Science is prov- ing " "Don't care about science or any other doo-dads," Mrs. Craig had interrupted, acidly. "I believe what my eyes see! Now, there was Mrs. Steele didn't I ever tell you how she wanted strawberries before Ellen was born, and there was Ellen born with a strawberry right on her cheek, and there was Mrs. Whitman who wanted " THE LOSING GAIN 35 "Yes, mother, I know, but that's all different, wanting things to eat. But it doesn't explain all the other things about Norah, her not wishing to play with other children, and being so settled, as if she were grown up." Mrs. Craig had nodded proudly. "That's because she's so much brighter than any other children of her age," she had announced, with the air of it being quite the correct thing, since she was the grandparent of the child under discussion. "She's a regular little woman!" "A regular little woman!" The words came back to Evelyn Grant, as she sat there with her sewing, listening to the eager chatter of the daughter who was already planning for the future, as though she had not herself given up that thing she most desired, given it up without so much as showing that it had cost her anything. "Then what do you think is the best thing for me to do first?" Norah was asking. Mrs. Grant stitched silently for a moment, and broke off a fresh thread with her teeth before answering, "It's rather hard to decide, offhand," was her answer, and from her tone she might have been "talking things over" with her mother. "Maybe I can get you a position in a dressmakers' establish- ment, or a milliner's where you can learn a trade; or I may be so busy myself I can use you right here with me." "I'd rather go into a store of some kind, then when I'm old enough, I can go into business for my- self. I understand all about mathematics you know, mama, what my report card has always been."' 36 THE LOSING GAIN "It takes more than a knowledge of mathematics to start in business, Norah." Evelyn smiled sadly. "For one thing, it requires capital." "Capital?" For a moment Norah was puzzled. "That means money, doesn't it?" she asked, doubt- fully. "Well, I'll have plenty when I'm, well, say about eighteen " "Plenty of money?" It was Evelyn's turn to knit her brows. "I can't imagine from where." "Why, in the bank, of course," came the naive reply. "I have the twenty-five dollars Grandmother Grant sent me when I was born, and ten dollars every year after that for my birthday let me see," the small hand pressed to the head, aided the calcula- tion, the rapid, mental calculation, "ten dollars for eleven years, added to twenty-five, that's a hundred and thirty-five already! By the time I'm eighteen there'll be sixty dollars more why, mama, I'll have enough money to start a store almost as large as the Emporium, I'm sure!" For the first time in over a month, Evelyn Grant laughed aloud. "Well, Norah," she declared, "I'll have to admit you're not lacking in ambition. But there'll be plenty of time to discuss these things later on. You'd better run into the kitchen now, and start peeling the potatoes for supper. Susy and Jimmie'll be mighty hungry when they come in soon." Norah got to her feet and started obediently for the kitchen door. Then she stopped; turned. There was a maternal light in her young eyes as she ran suddenly to the huddled-up mother who sat, monotonously pushing in and out a needle through the goods that was to become a garment for a stranger. THE LOSING GAIN 37 Affectionately the child threw her arms about the mother's neck. "Oh, mama, dear!" she breathed, as she planted a resounding smack on the tired cheek. "I wish, oh, how I wish I was older, really grown up ! But just you wait! I will be, and then I'll take care of you all, you and Jimmie and Susan, grandma, too!" Mrs. Grant held her little daughter off from her a moment as she gazed seriously into her eyes. "I believe you will!" she declared solemnly. Evelyn Grant had never been an over affectionate or emotional woman, but x ^s she looked at the small girl standing before her, voicing her determination so confidently and bravely, she was conscious of a sudden rush of mother-love surging through her being for this, her first born. When, later, Norah crawled into bed beside the sleeping Susan, it was some time before she fell asleep. She was thinking over all she and her mother had talked about that afternoon in the twilight that made it necessary for the mother to stop her sewing as she had talked. The idea of dressmaking or millinery did not wake the tiniest spark of enthusiasm within her. A store, or busi- ness, those were different! Yes, that would be the solution, was her conclusion as her eyes closed drowsily. She would go into business, and she would have cards printed like Mrs. Wagner, only instead of having them read: "Annie Wagner, Teacher of Piano," they would read, "Norah Grant Business Woman." Evelyn Grant had begun sewing as soon as her resolution was made. She had taken her first step 38 THE LOSING GAIN when she had had inserted in the Chronicle and Examiner her advertisements. Now newly painted signs were hung in the bay window of the parlor. It was not long before she had all the work she could do, but she found it impossible to get along on those small earnings. An unknown dressmaker in the Mission could build up a trade only by working reasonably. So the most that she could ask for a dress, and then it had to be fancy, was ten dollars. If she engaged anyone to help her, it ate up half the profits, so she tried to do all the work alone, sewing from early morning until late at night, crowding her other duties in between, endangering her vitality and her eyes. To Norah, after her graduation, fell the work of the household and the cooking. That left Mrs. Grant free to devote all her time to her work, a grateful relief, but even then, she found it necessary to delve into her twelve hundred dollars. She had put away that money, too, determined it should re- main as a safeguard. Each time she drew out even a small amount, her heart sank. What if she were to become ill, and that money become their only means of support? So short a time it would last, and then What would become of them? One afternoon, just after she had finished fitting a particular fussy customer, Norah burst into the room, her cheeks rosy, her eyes brilliant with excite- ment. "Oh, mama, I've something to tell you !" she panted. "Are you too busy, or will you listen to me?" "Well, Norah, what is it?" Mrs. Grant dropped THE LOSING GAIN 39 her work and sat down. "It will be good to rest a minute, anyway, child." "Well, Gladys Parsons, who works around the corner in Taylor's candy store, is going to be mar- ried on the first of the month, and Mrs. Taylor wants me to take her place. She'll pay me six dollars to begin. It's from nine in the morning till six, with an hour for lunch, and every Sunday off. I'll have to work Saturday nights, but that's " "I can't see how it will be possible for you to go," her mother interrupted. "I could never get along without someone to do the work, and if I have to take in an extra person tq pay and feed I can't see the advantage of having y6u away from home." "Oh, dear, I never thought of that!" Norah was close to tears. For the moment she thought hard, then added eagerly: "Couldn't I do most of the work before I leave in the morning? I don't have to be there until after nine, and it's just around the corner. I could help a little at noon, too, and I should think Susy could do something after school, she's past ten." "You know Susan is not a bit like you, dear," her mother answered gravely, " she is such a baby. When do you have to let Mrs. Taylor know?" "She said she would like to know positively by the twentieth, so that she can get someone for Gladys to break in. Oh, mama, can't you think of some way for me to go ? I do so want to help you !" "Why, you're helping me all the time, Norah! I 'don't know what I should have done without my little woman," the mother answered tenderly. "But I should like to earn some money and help 40 THE LOSING GAIN you that way. Then you wouldn't have to sit up so late at nights, and cry every time you draw money out of the bank." "Sweet child," whispered Mrs. Grant as she stooped to kiss her daughter. "I'll think about it, and we'll see what we can do." The problem was answered in a few days. Evelyn's grandmother, who was past eighty, died suddenly, and that left Mrs. Craig, Evelyn's mother, alone as old Samuel had gone on two years before. Her two sons each offered her a home with them, but she declined with thanks. She had never had much in common with either of her daughters- in-law, and besides she felt independent enough to choose her own home. Her income, derived from the rental of her cherry orchard, was small, but nevertheless enough to supply her meagre wants. Now that her mother was gone, she had a chance to rent her cottage, too, and to go to live with Evelyn. It was a splendid arrangement in every way. Evelyn had always been devoted to her mother, and, had she possessed but one room, that room she would have willingly shared with that mother. And never was Mrs. Craig so happy as when with Evelyn and her children. They talked it all over, and there was joy in all the family, as they considered their re- sources. "There's the rent from the ranch," announced Mrs. Craig, "that'll help eke out "But, mother!" Evelyn Grant was demurring. "That is yours, we can't take it " The tightening of her mother's lips was familiar to her. It was meant to convey, always did convey, that Mrs. Craig's mind was made up ; that there was THE LOSING GAIN 41 no changing it. Evelyn bowed to the mandate, not ungladly. She was getting very tired. Still, in the final adjustment, she had one word. "You'll be doing enough to do the cooking and 'tending house, I should think," was her final remonstrance to which the grandmother put a stop. "If you'll take my advice," she said, "this family will be pooling all they can get and let it go for the common good." A bit of advice adhered to for a long time to come, but, when once discarded, it was not Norah who listened so eagerly when she had first heard it, to give it up. To her the greatest thing about her grandmother's advent into the home was the fact that it meant she could go to work in the candy store. Norah Grant, through whatever triumphs she knew in after years, never forgot the thrill of her first Saturday night as a wage earner. Those six great big silver dollars. Were there ever any so enticing! With such wonderful potentialities? Even as she received them, it was not so much the money they meant as the reward for achievement. Norah was never quite certain when there came to her the ambition to be a success in the business world. Perhaps some of it had come that night she lay so wide-awake beside her sleeping sister, and dreamed a vision. More probably, however, it was when those great, round dollars were handed to her from the little tin box under the Taylor's candy store counter, and she knew she had earned them. With dancing eagerness, she gave them to her mother when Evelyn came for her. It was the initiation of a ceremony that was to continue for a 42 THE LOSING GAIN long, long time as far as Norah was concerned, for Norah Grant never faltered in giving her mother her earnings every Saturday night from that first night in the candy store. At home, everything was gay. It was a sort of celebration of her entry into business, from which the child returned after her first week's work. A warm sweet odor drifted through the rooms when the door was opened. Norah sniffed eagerly. "Cookies!" she cried, jubilantly. "Grandma's sugar cookies!" Then, Jimmie and Susan, who had been allowed to stay up for the feast, were dancing around her. "And cocoa !" cried Susan. "Jelly roll, too!" was Jimmie's addition. He (didn't want his own particular favorite overlooked. Norah's heart jumped with joy and pride. Oh, it was so good to be loved and appreciated! She, too, danced about the room, hugging and kissing each in turn. "Oh, I love you!" she cried jubilantly. "I love you all so! And some day I'm going to show you!" Norah had been working for the Taylors for three years, while things went along rather more in the old routine manner than Evelyn Grant had ever supposed they would again, when the first change came. The girl came home earlier than usual one night to find her mother busy cutting out a new dress, using the old square piano as a cutting table. Norah's inward smile was a little wistful as she noticed it, and she bent down ostensibly to pick up a spool of thread that was unwinding itself across the cluttered-up floor; in reality to hide what she imagined her eyes might show as she looked at the THE LOSING GAIN 43 piano. It had been a long time since she had had a chance to practice, in spite of her determination to keep up her music. From the kitchen she could hear her grandmother wailing an old hymn as she pre- pared supper, but as soon as the old lady heard the girl's voice, she came in hurriedly, wiping her hands on her huge gingham apron. "Anything wrong, Norah?" she asked, tipping her glasses with a familiar gesture. "How'd you come to be so early?" Norah crossed the room to drop onto the sofa from which she pushed a pile of silks and linings to make room for herself. "Nothing special," she nodded, "or at least there won't be long. But right now, I'm out of a job f Mrs. Grant looked up from her cutting, startled, apprehensive. Things had been going on so nicely But before she could frame the remonstrance ori her lips, her daughter hurried on. "Mr. Taylor has been ill a long time, as you know," she explained, "and they've decided to go to San Diego for his health. They even wanted to take me with them, but," and she threw a kiss in the directions of her mother and grandmother, "I thanked them kindly and said I couldn't possibly leave those I love the best in the world " "But what," began her mother, her brow wrinkled, "what your money has helped so " "And will," declared the daughter with the firm- ness of a woman instead of the child of fifteen she was. "I've been thinking, so I came home early to talk it over with you both. I'm going to business 44 THE LOSING GAIN school. No, mother, wait a minute," she begged, with uplifted hand as Evelyn's mouth opened to pro- test. "I know money's hard to get, and you can't afford it, but I can !" Her voice held pride as she made the proclamation. "Have you forgotten my fortune from Grandmother Grant? Now, why can't I take seventy-five dollars of that money and go to Heald's? They guarantee you a position when you've completed the course. Why, Mabel Bland graduated there only two months ago, and already she's getting eighteen dollars a week!" She stopped for the wonder of it to sink in, and only the. snip-snip of her mother's scissors, busy from habit, broke the stillness. "Eighteen dollars! Just think!" She jumped from her seat to run to her mother, upsetting the tissue paper pattern that had been laid so carefully on the faded magenta cover with its yellow machine embroidered edge, of the old piano. Her arms went about her mother. "Oh, I know, dear," she exclaimed. "I know it will be hard to do without my earnings for six months, but if you can only manage somehow, I know it will be well worth it in the end!" Evelyn Grant smiled indulgently. Norah was right, as usual, a matter she was fast coming to know. And Norah read her answer in the tighten- ing of her arms about her. She turned to the older woman. "And you, too, grandma?" she asked. "What 'do you think what " "That you're a fine little girl, Norah", but you should have been a boy!" CHAPTER V ALONG time afterward, Norah Grant recalled those words of her grandmother: "You should have been a boy!" They came to her often as she watched her busy, intelligent, efficient business sisters in the mad rush of the busy day. She compared them so often with the men she met or watched, too. A queer little smile would flit across Ker face as she thought. Grandma had so meant to compliment. In grandma's day, no doubt, though, a woman in business had been as unusual as a hen that crowed, and about as laughable or as reprehensible as one looked at it. What was that little jingle grandma used so often to say so long ago ? Oh, yes : " A whistling girl and a crowing hen, Never come to any good end. " Norah knew that she, personally, had never felt much inclination to whistle, but she had no doubt that women of that generation before her own or her mother's would be quite as aghast at her for daring to ascend the heights of that mysterious realm of business she had as if she had whistled all day, or crowed, either, for that matter. She looked about her neat little private office with its typewriter desk beside the flat-topped one; at the cool green rug on her floor, and the few prints on 45 46 THE LOSING GAIN the walls; felt of the leather cushions on her type- writer chair; and breathed a sigh of contentment. Yes, this was something like ! She was getting some- where. And because she wanted to, more than anything else in the world, aside from providing for her mother's comfort. She had not always been so nicely situated, though. Her heart compensated her when she realized that she had worked up to this; worked with her mind, her soul, her strength. Two weeks after her graduation from business college, Norah Grant began her business life with the law firm of Carew & Carew, sent to them from the college. They had recommended her when Carew & Carew had asked for the best stenographer pro- curable, but when she had come timidly into the office, looking even younger than her fifteen and a half years in her little blue gown, her sailor collar and tarn, the senior member of the firm had at first eyed her with none too great sympathy. "You're young, Miss Grant," he said, -about ?" "Almost sixteen," Norah informed him, but in her eagerness for a trial she added quickly before he had a chance to refuse her: "But I am a business woman, and if you'll try me, sir " Mr. Carew was always fond of telling his friends afterward how he once obtained the best stenog- rapher he ever had because she made him laugh. Norah's words were serious, but it was her childish appearance that made him chuckle at them till his sides ached, and he pushed a chair forward to her and told her to try her hand at dictation. And when she had finished the trial letter, he looked down at THE LOSING GAIN 47 her over the top of his glasses, a trick that so re- minded Norah of her own grandmother that she felt at home with him at once, and told her: "Fifteen dollars a week to start, young lady you'll get more, if you prove as efficient as your promise shows." Norah could hardly wait until she reached home to tell her mother and grandmother. She burst into the front room where Mrs. Grant was busy with her eternal cutting up large pieces of material into small ones, for the distinct purpose of sewing them together again, with a breeziness that sent tissue paper patterns flying across the room. "Mama!" she cried. "It's all right! He he hired me and pretty soon you won't have to work at all!" She stopped breathlessly to pick up the fluttering patterns, as Grandma Craig hurried in to see what in the world had disrupted the quiet of the sewing room. Half slouching in behind the old lady, still munching the half eaten sandwich she had picked up as soon as she had reached home after school, came a tall, scrawny, awkward girl of fourteen who eyed the enthusiastic young business woman with a hint of superciliousness as she doubled her long legs under her as she dropped down on the couch. Norah hailed her. "Just in time, Susy," she cried, exuberantly, "your case is first on the docket!" She turned to her mother with a sobering of manner. "I'd like Susy to go to High School, mama, don't you think you and I can manage it, now?" Mrs. Grant removed the pins from her mouth as she glanced speculatively from one daughter to the other. With the keen eyes of motherhood she ap- 48 THE LOSING GAIN praised them both; Norah, eager, anxious to work, to help; Norah with her dazzling white skin, her dark curls, the peach blow on the downy cheek that was changing from the roundness of childhood to the beauty of faultless young maidenhood; Norah with her intelligence that not even a casual observer could deny. And Susan; Susan, tall, awkward, a little pimply; with no promise of good looks to come; with no unusual display of intelligence in the eyes that showed more of querulousness, discontent, and (it must be admitted, selfishness) than any of the quali- ties that made the elder sister noticeable in a throng. And Evelyn Grant's mother heart beat a little faster as she was bound to acknowledge this difference in the two daughters to whom she had given birth. Then, as her glance roved she spoke : "Yes," hesitantly, "I suppose we can, Norah, but somehow it doesn't seem exactly fair to me you went to work when you finished grammar school, so why can't Susan " The young person in question yawned boredly as she tossed the crust of her sandwich toward a scrap- filled basket. "If you're trying to say it's up to me," she de- clared, "I'd rather go to work. I'm not crazy about school." Norah frowned. "Better go if you have a chance, Susy," she advised. "You'll find out what an education's good for when you take up a business training." Susan's already tiptilted nose went higher in the air, and her head tossed defiantly. "Who says I'm going to take up a business training?" she wanted to know. "Just because you can't think of anything THE LOSING GAIN 49 else, Norah Grant, is no reason I should have the same ideas. I'm not particular about going to work, either. I think I'd just like to help mama around the house awhile, then, just as soon as I'm old enough, I'll find some nice fellow and marry him." ''Susan!" The exclamation came simultaneously from the mother and older sister, but the tone of reprimand was heeded not in the least by the young lady who spoke. "Well, I will!" she insisted, sullenly. 'Think I'm going to be shut up in a dusty old office, or be- hind a counter all day until I'm an old maid and no- body will have me? That will happen to you, Norah, you see if it don't!" "That's exactly what I want to happen!" Norah flared up. "I don't ever intend to marry ! I'm going to be a business woman, and make a lot of money, and then I'll take you all and travel all over the world and see everything. Catch me asking any man where I shall go, or how much I shall spend! I'm going to be entirely independent!" "But, Norah," Mrs. Grant was a little alarmed at the outburst. "I don't think, young as you are, that that's the right way to feel. There is such a thing, dear, as carrying all things to extremes. It is the rightful mission in life of every woman to marry some time and have a home and family." "Oh, I'll have a home!" Norah tossed her head with a defiant gesture, nonchalant, as she answered. "When I've money enough I'll have half a dozen children, if you like, mama, cute little children, because I love them, but I won't have a husband. He'd only be a nuisance, and I don't see any necessity 50 THE LOSING GAIN for bothering with him Besides, I prefer sup- porting my children myself." "Norah!" Evelyn fairly shrieked her reproof. "Ycu don't know what you're talking about! I I " She was at a loss for words. "I'll," she choked, " have a serious talk with you to-night, after the other children are in bed." "I I'm sorry, mama," Norah was sincerely puzzled, "if I said anything to offend you I didn't mean to I " "There, there, dear!" Affectionately the mother's arm slipped around her. "It wasn't your fault at all. I've stood so still all these years, I seem to have for- gotten my little girl is almost a woman. You see, you've always been such a reliable, dependable little person so far advanced for your years in most things that I seem to have taken everything con- cerned with you for granted." "Well, I'm sure I don't know what it's all about," said Susan, as she bit into a cookie she took from her pocket, "but I think mama's right, and you can be an old maid if you want to, Norah Grant, but I won't! So there!" Susan did not go to High School. Her lack of en- thusiasm forced the family to the realization of how foolish it would be to send her against her will; she would only idle away her time at an expense and sacrifice to her mother and sister. Instead, through a customer of Mrs. Grant's, she went to work in a small beauty parlor on Mission street, near Twenty-second. She was to learn every branch of the trade, sweep out the place, straighten the booths, gather the linens, and make herself THE LOSING GAIN 51 generally useful in return for her tuition and five dollars a week. Mrs. Grant was pleased, for she could see just how Susan would be able to command a good salary after she became proficient. Susan, herself, was de- lighted. She liked, immensely, the idea of watching the women come in to be "dolled up" as she soon called it. The entire atmosphere of it appealed strongly to something within her that had not had time to develop. Even Norah, who had at first objected most strenuously to the idea of Susan in a beauty parlor, had to admit that Susan was not slow to develop in her own particular line, for at the end of three years during which many changes had occurred in the Capp Street flat, including the death of Grandma Craig, Susan had reached the height of her own ambitions as far as outward appearance was concerned. "She's the most sought after manicurist in the La Rose shop," Mrs. Grant proudly told her sewing room assistant one day. "Regular customers every day and Madame Cassidy thinks there is no one like her." "Yes indeed," agreed the assistant, she had not been there a long time since she had been but recently engaged by Norah to help her mother after the grandmother's death, and she knew well enough that she was not needed so much as a dressmaker's assis- tant as someone in whom Mrs. Grant could confide. Poor Evelyn Grant! Her mother's passing had made so little difference to anyone but her, but she had not accustomed herself to doing without some one to "talk things over with." "Yes, indeed," re- peated the assistant, "I should imagine so." But 52 THE LOSING GAIN there was a queer light in her eyes as they wandered toward the door through which Susan had just flounced; an entirely different Susan from three years before; a Susan who had grown tall and slender; whose hair had been touched to a beautiful deep gold; whose large blue eyes held a languid and dreamy expression, copied and practiced continually in imitation of Miss Florence Ayres, the popular young leading woman of the Mission Stock Company who was one of her best customers. And back in the little assistant's head as she bent over her sewing was a comment on the girl who had just left the room. "A wonderful advertisement for La Rose powder and rouge," was that unspoken comment. There were others who might have thought the same, but it was not for these that Susan had under- gone her transformation. Indeed, in the eyes of many, she was quite as attractive a girl at seventeen as she had been unattractive at fourteen. Susan was aware of the fact. It was brought home to her by the admiring glances of men wherever she went. Mrs. Grant was rambling on, in the way the new assistant was becoming used to. "Yes," she agreed with herself, "I can say I'm lucky in my children, far luckier than most mothers. There's Jimmie now. Sixteen, tall and well built for his age, and thinks just like Norah " She stopped to thread a new needle, a performance that was becoming more and more difficult as the days went by, and a fact, too, that had escaped the eyes of all except that watchful young person of whom she last spoke. "He's going to be an electrician getting along fine and being paid while he learns. THE LOSING GAIN 53 But Norah!" Mrs. Grant paused, and even the watchful little seamstress could know nothing of what was going on in the mind of the mother as she tenderly spoke the name of her firstborn. There was a sort of awe in the mother's heart when she even thought of the girl. To her she was an enigma. How had she come about? How had this wonderful young creature come to be her daughter? Her head shook as she pondered the problem as she had so many times before. As a girl, Evelyn Craig had been pretty; but only fairly so, she was forced to admit herself. She never could have been rated \as beautiful. And James Grant, notwithstanding how much she loved him, or how she now revered his memory, she knew in her inmost heart could never have laid the least claim to being handsome. Where, then, had come this beauty that was Norah' s her sapphire eyes, her oval face and patrician nose; the flawless complexion that could vie with any rose that grew against the garden walls in the garden spots of her own native California? Others than her mother knew that Norah Grant was a beauty, but they knew, too, as she did, that it was a matter that was the least im- portant of any in the girl's scheme of things. So it was not of Norah's beauty that her mother spoke to the seamstress who had been brought to help that mother when Norah had also employed a woman to cook, after her grandmother had gone away. "She went to work for Carew & Carew (you know them, don't you one of the best known law firms in the city) when she was sixteen, and now when she's only nineteen, she's private secretary to Albert Carew himself," she went on, and stopping long 54 THE LOSING GAIN enough to bite off one of her eternal threads, she ended proudly, "getting thirty-five dollars a week, too, and " Probably the little seamstress never guessed it, but it was in all likelihood as much her own humble self to whom Evelyn Grant had become accustomed to "talking things over" with as much as to any other reason that Norah's mother rebelled when that efficient young lady made up her mind that there had been enough dressmaking in the Grant family, at least by the mother. It happened that very evening, at the supper table. Mrs. Grant was not feeling any too cheerful, any- how. She was barely picking at her codfish cakes with something of distaste. Not that she didn't like them. The woman Norah had engaged to cook was a good cook, and the dish was savory, but it was Thursday night, and never could she remember that they had ever had codfish cakes on Thursday night before. It was the night for the cold sliced roast, and a salad ought to be with it. She was thinking of the old days. Norah's voice, sprightly as it was, seemed to come to her out of the distance. "And I mean it, mama," Norah was saying. "I just won't allow you to work any longer! You're tired, even if you say you're not, and I can see you're even getting worn looking. Why, I wonder if you realize it, you haven't had a day's rest since papa died, and that's seven years!" Seven years! Could it be so long? Or wasn't it longer? Evelyn Grant couldn't just think. It was getting so hard to think about things anyhow. But she summoned up spirit to answer. "But I don't mind, Norah," she declared bravely, THE LOSING GAIN 55 "especially now that I have Ellen to do the work and Annie to help with the sewing!" "Just the same, there's a lot of worry and respon- sibility attached to it all, and you don't have to do it. You've taken care of us long enough and now it's time for us to look after you." "Why, Norah, dear!" The mother's tone was surprised, as it was so often as she spoke to this enigmatical daughter of hers. "You've always done as much, or more than I have ! Why, ever since you first went to work you've given me every dollar you've earned, and barely kept enough for your carfare. You've even taken your lunch with you, because it was cheaper than going to a restaurant." "Now, mama," chided the daughter, "don't start figuring like that! For that matter, haven't you made all my clothes?" "Yes," reluctantly, "simple little dresses that hardly cost anything. You never will let me make you anything fancy and pretty like those I make for Susy " Her expression changed; smiles wreathed her face. "Let me show you the blue party dress I'm just finishing for her," she urged, in an- other tone, " rows and rows of dainty lace, all sewed on by hand " Evelyn Grant hurried into the parlor to get it. "It's a dream!" Susan enthused, as she helped herself to another cup of tea. "Wait till you see it, Norah. I had mama copy it from the dress I saw Florence Ayres wear last week in 'Her Two Lovers' great show, wish you could have seen it." "Susy," Norah reached over and patted her sister's hand, "do you think it right to impose on 56 THE LOSING GAIN mama like this after she works hard all day to let her sit up half the night sewing on lace by hand and ruining her poor eyes, for you?" Angrily, Susan jerked her hand away. "Oh, now, you're going to start in and lecture, I suppose," she pouted. "I'm sure if mama didn't want to do it she would say so, wouldn't you, mama?" She looked inquiringly at her mother as she came in and proudly held up the blue dress for inspection. "Wouldn't I what, dear?" "Wouldn't you say you were tired and didn't want to make me a party dress, if you felt that way? Norah says I impose on you by letting you sew for me at night." "Why, nothing in the world makes me happier than to sew for my girls I only wish Norah would let me make her a party dress." "Oh, mama !" Norah laughed, "what in the world would I do with a party dress! I'm sure I couldn't wear it to the office." "That's just it," Susan scowled. "You never go anywhere yourself, and you're sore because I'm hav- ing a good time." "Susan Grant!" There was an angry tone in the sister's voice as she turned on the younger girl. "I'm not 'sore,' as you call it, because you're having a good time. In the first place what to you is a good time is to me a waste of time, and in the second place, I'd rather spend my evenings studying and improv- ing myself." "Is that so? Well, what's the use of improving yourself if you never go anywhere to meet a " "Please, girls!" Mrs. Grant almost wailed as her hands went out in pleading. "Don't quarrel! THE LOSING GAIN 57 Whenever we start to talk things over, it always ends this way!" "I don't want to quarrel, mama." It was Susan who was quickest to retort. "But Norah's always talking about studying and improving herself, and I can't see where it has brought her so much. She's been working for seven years and she's getting thirty- five a week, and I've been working three years and between my salary and tips I average twenty-five." "I know, Susy, and I think you're doing fine," Norah agreed heartily. "But after all we only had grammar school educations, so that's why I like to read and study at night, arid I think you should want to do that, too, just a little, perhaps." "Read? Why, I read every spare minute I have! Don't you even fuss at night, after we're in bed, for me to blow out the lamp so that you can go to sleep?" "Yes, but you only read novels what I'm talk- ing about is history, and English, and books that will teach something." "History?" Susan laughed. "What good can that 'do anyone ? When I go into society I suppose I'm to say: 'Why, how-do-you-do, Mr. Crocker? Do you know that Columbus discovered America? George Washington was the father of his country? or that Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves?' ' "Oh, Susy!" Norah shook her head as she and her mother laughed over the girl's nonsense and mimicry. "You are hopeless. But let's drop all this and get back to where we were about mama giving up her sewing." "I think she should give it up, if we can manage to run the house, only you must know, Norah, now 58 THE LOSING GAIN as well as any time, that I don't give in all my money the way you do." "Since when is that, mama?" Norah asked, sternly, surprised. "I thought Susy gave you all her money and that you dressed her and gave her an allowance to spend!" "No, dear," came the mother's hesitating answer, confused before the daughter's clear gaze, " we er we changed that some time ago. Susy said she would rather pay me ten dollars a week for board, and keep the rest she made to dress on, and pay for her amusements or anything she needed." "Why wasn't I told about this?" Norah de- manded. "Because it was between mama and me, and wasn't any of your business!" Susan flared back. "You would only have kicked as usual !" "I certainly should have tried to prevent your being so selfish," Norah answered, spiritedly. "You know well enough that by this arrangement mama isn't getting a cent from you. By the time she makes your dresses and buys the materials, I'd like to know what she has left?" "It doesn't take much material to make Susy a dress," Mrs. Grant demurred, "and, besides, you know I can get a discount." "Don't pay any attention to her, mama." Susan strolled toward the bedroom door. "She finds fault with everything I'm going over to Grace's. We're going to make some fudge. You two can decide on anything you please. It will be all right with me. I'll show you I can be more agreeable than Norah." "Oh, mama!" Norah tried to keep back the tears as she faced her mother, after the door banged be- THE LOSING GAIN 59 hind Susan. "Why is she always like that? She never takes anything seriously." "Susy doesn't happen to be ambitious like you and Jimmie, that's all. But she's a good child at heart and I think she'll be different when she's a little older." "Well, at least I'm glad Jimmie's different. Why 'didn't he come home to dinner to-night, mama, I forgot to ask you?" "He telephoned he would stay at the shop until nine to work out something or other, a switchboard something, I think " As she spoke vaguely, Mrs. Grant vainly triedvto pat back a yawn that would not be suppressed. "I wonder if you'd mind, dear," she asked, "if I should lie down for an hour? I'm more tired than I thought, and a little nap will straighten me out, so that I can finish Susy's dress." As the mother lay down on the dining room couch^ Norah drew the cashmere shawl that always hung over the old-fashioned rocker carefully about her. She stooped over and kissed her. Then she went into the parlor and took the blue party dress from the hanger. She saw just where the three or four more rows of lace were needed to finish it. As she sat by the lamp, diligently plying her needle, she smiled ruefully as she pictured to herself the expression on Susy's face could she but have seen her. CHAPTER VI IF there was something strained in Norah Grant's manner in the next few days, a little something different from her usual cheerful self, Albert Carew, always understanding, put it down to the heat. For it was hot even for San Francisco. In the office buildings the windows were wide open to catch every faint breeze. Looking down from her own high eerie, where it was always cool if there were a breath of air stirring, Norah Grant allowed herself a smile of compassion at the sight of the small messenger boy ambling along, more intent on consuming the ice cream cone he was trying to dispose of before it melted than in delivering any message with which he might have been entrusted. She turned back to her desk, where there was work to do, let the weather be what it might be. Still, it was not the weather that had been making the girl distrait and silent for the past few days. It had always been her custom to put out of her mind anything concerning her home when at work, anything but business when she was up there working for Carew & Carew, but something had happened that just would not erase itself, even tem- porarily, from her mind. Her mother must go on working, at least for a time. That, she now knew, and it was the know- ing, and the why of it, that was distressing her, 60 THE LOSING GAIN 61 almost breaking her heart. Her own brother and sister had failed her. For, when she had insisted that her mother quit work, it had only been to dis- cover that she was the only member of the family who was willing to contribute all, in the fraternal community manner which her grandmother had ad- vocated so long ago and had lived up to until the day of her death, as Norah herself was now living up to her agreement. Susan most emphatically refused to hand in all her weekly salary. "I'll tell you what I'll do, though," she finally condescended, after an a v rgument more heated than any that had ever before occurred in the placid Grant family. "If you insist, I'll turn in fifteen a week, but I can't see the use of working if I can't keep some for myself." And there was nothing from Jimmie, a fact which' probably hurt Norah worse than Susan's dereliction. But Jimmie explained how little he was making while learning his trade, and how much he needed that little. "I'm as anxious as you, Norah," he insisted, "to see mother stop working, and as soon as I'm earn- ing a regular salary I'll do anything you say, but surely you can't expect me to ask mother for car- fare and spending money like a kid of ten. You seem to forget I'm past sixteen." Norah was disappointed in Jimmie, sadly. So it had been, as usual, the little mother who had put an end to the argument by refusing to give up work, and Norah Grant was thinking of her mother's back bent over her sewing as she sat in her small office, where at least it was cool. 62 THE LOSING GAIN The buzzer at the side of her desk announced to her that she was wanted in her employer's private office. Gathering up her note book and pencil she went to answer the summons. Albert Carew, his kindly old face lighted with a smile, sat thrumming on his glass topped desk, genially conversing with a young man who sat opposite him. He looked up, as Norah entered. "Miss Grant," he introduced, "I want you to meet my nephew, Stuart Wells. Just graduated from Stanford and I'm taking him in here with me." "How do you do, Mr. Wells." Norah bowed slightly as the young man rose to his feet. "I almost feel as if I know you, Miss Grant," he said cordially. "I'm so used to seeing your initials on the bottom of my uncle's letters." "I intend having Mr. Wells' desk placed in here with me," Mr. Carew announced. "I'm going to take a short trip east in September, and I shall leave my clients in his hands. You'll take his letters and do for him the same as for me?" "Certainly, Mr. Carew," she answered promptly. "Is there anything more now? I have several im- portant letters to answer." "In about half an hour I'll have some dictation." She turned to go and young Wells jumped up to hold open the door. She was visibly confused and embarrassed as she murmured, "Thank you," being unused to gallantry of this sort; but had she been able to analyze herself better she would have known it was not so much the attention as the boldness of. the man's glance that was disconcerting. While sorting papers that afternoon in Mr. THE LOSING GAIN 63 Carew's office she had a chance to scrutinize young Wells rather closely without attracting his attention. Exteriorly, everything was in his favor. He was a fine looking, tall young chap, with wavy brown v hair and dark brown eyes ; his features were all good with the exception of the mouth and that showed a decided weakness of character. But this was not apparent to Norah, for she had not reached the time when she could read a man's countenance. To her he was just a handsome young man, and with that she dismissed him from her thoughts. She found, however, before the week passed that he was an important factor in the office, not to be dismissed so easily. Half a dozen times a day he sent for her to take a letter, to attend to some 'phoning or to look up notes for him; twice he had asked her out to lunch but each time she declined gracefully, telling him she always brought her lunch with her. "Well, that doesn't make any difference," he answered the second time she had refused him. "Just let it go to waste. We'll run up to Tait's or the Tavern and have a little bite it will be much pleasanter for a change." "I prefer having my lunch here, thank you just the same, Mr. Wells," Norah answered pleasantly. "It takes just half the time and allows me to go right on with my work." "But that's all right," Wells insisted. "I'll fix it with my uncle if you're a little late." "There isn't any reason for me to be late. I love my work and I enjoy sticking to it." "Yes, but it can't be all work and no play." Wells laughed. "That never did anyone good." 64 THE LOSING GAIN "I have plenty of recreation away from the office," she answered. "Mr. Carew pays me to work and that's what I'm here for." "Well, then, why not come to dinner and the theatre with me some evening," Wells persisted. "That won't interfere with your work in the least." "Thank you, but I really prefer to spend my eve- nings at home with my mother." She turned rather abruptly to her typewriter, indicating that the in- terview was over. Wells shrugged his shoulders significantly as he walked back into the private office, a peculiar smile lurking around the corners of his thin lips. But back in her own little office, Norah Grant went on with her work almost feverishly, a bright spot burn- ing on either cheek. For the first time in her busi- ness experience, she knew what it was to be annoyed and irritated by the persistent attentions of a man, but she felt sure that they would not, could not continue, after her abrupt dismissal of him. But what to do about it she did not know. She wasted quite fifteen good minutes that by right belonged to Albert Carew, a violation of her code that argued some pretty good underlying reason trying to think it out. She could not complain to Mr. Carew. There wasn't anything to complain about. Mr. Wells had asked her to lunch and to dinner, it was true, but her common sense told her that acceptance or declination rested entirely with herself. She could imagine Mr. Carew laughing heartily, if she said she was annoyed because someone wanted to take her to lunch instead of eating her own home prepared lunch which the old lawyer alternately jested her about and approved. THE LOSING GAIN 65 In the same way, her mother was precluded as a confidant. Her mother had never been worried about her; had never had cause to be. And Norah was determined she never should be if she had any- thing to do with the matter. Her head nodded sagely as she punched viciously at the typewriter keys, as though she were giving some heartily de- served smacks to an offender. "No," she whispered to herself, "if there's any 'talking things over' in this case, I'll just talk it over with the vacuum cleaner in the hall, or Mr. Carew's pet stuffed owl or something else equally as wise as myself. There's one thing I can do at least. I can just keep on saying 'No' just as often as he can ask, and believe me," Norah Grant was not addicted to slang either, "I'm the one who'll , do it!" It was not until September, however, when the summer was over, that Norah Grant had any cause to complain to anyone of annoyance on the part of her employer's nephew, leaving aside the tiny prickles that ran all up and down her body as though someone had turned on a sudden spray of ice water, when she would look up from her typewriter at an unexpected sound to see Wells standing in her door- way. Always his entry was so, almost noiseless. Always he had that cat-like grin. Norah could not help but compare herself to the mouse the cat would like to eat when she saw him standing there, eyeing her critically, almost insolently. With her own employer in the East, she was virtually the private secretary of Wells, and Norah was longing for Mr. Carew's return long before it was scheduled. But, strangely enough, for she had been fearful of something, she could not tell exactly 66 THE LOSING GAIN what (doubtless her woman's intuition was warning her as it always warns those who care to listen whether they be nineteen or ninety this holdover warning from the days of cavemen when woman must always be on the defensive) nothing happened to mar the evenness of her days. Until just before Mr. Carew's return. When Norah Grant heard the buzzer ringing beside her desk that afternoon, and noted it came from the private office, there seemed to be some- thing sinister in the sound itself, something warning. It was late, for one thing, and she was finishing up for the day, so would not have been well pleased even though there were nothing else than new busi- ness to confront her. It was with a frown of annoyance that she gathered up her note book and pencil and hurried to the room occupied by Wells. He was seated at his desk, to all intents and pur- poses so engrossed with some papers over which he was poring that he did not seem at first to notice the girl's entry. He turned with a start and a wave of his hand toward the chair at his side. "Ah, Miss Grant," he said blandly. "Sorry to keep you so late, but there is a letter of great im- portance which I must get off at once, and " "Yes, sir." Norah wasted no words, but seatecl herself, and sat, pencil poised in hand. Wells glanced towards the outer door. "I'll only keep you a short time," he repeated, "ah" he took his watch from his pocket and con- sulted it frowningly, "didn't know it was as late as that I suppose everyone has gone?" This with a lifting of eyebrows in inquiry. Norah's answer was unsuspecting. "Yes, I am THE LOSING GAIN 67 the last," she nodded. "I was just about ready to go, but of course I'm glad to take your letter." For an instant a smile lurked about the thin drawn corners of his thin-lipped mouth, a smile that to anyone less unsophisticated than Norah Grant would have been illuminating. Then he settled him- self in his chair, his finger tips pressed close to- gether in the attitude Norah had come to recognize as characteristic of the man when he was composing, "Messrs. Thompson & Baird, Flood Building, Market and Powell Sts., City. Gentlemen : " For a page and a half he dictated, a space so filled with inanities that it was with difficulty that the girl retained her composure as her woman's in- stinct saw through the flimsy excuse. Not more than a dozen lines had been written before she realized that there was no letter of importance, but, on the contrary, one that might easily have waited two or three days before its indictment. With a little pang, she realized, too, that everyone except herself and Wells had gone, and that she, herself, had told him so. But she must keep her self-control. Over and over she told herself that, as her pencil flew, her head bent over her work, and her cheeks flamed with indignation, and something else. CHAPTER VII IN the silence, except for the man's monotonous droning, Norah could hear every street sound far below the windows. She wished heartily she was out there with the clanging street cars, where the newsboys were howling their late editions. Small things became most evident to her. She saw the green of the carpet and its deep nap in a way she had never seen them before. Albert Carew's stuffed owl's feathers were more emphatically gray and brown, and the old bird seemed about to speak. His glassy eyes seemed real. She noted the paper knives on the desk; Wells' half burned cigarette in the ash tray, where he had snuffed it out on her entry. She wrote on. With admirable composure she wrote on to the finish, "Yours truly"; closed her note book and, as she rose and smoothed out the front of her blouse, said calmly: "I'm sure there will be plenty of time for me to type this to-morrow, Mr. Wells. It's past my time now, and I'd like to go." Wells looked up and spoke sharply. "You're not always so particular, Miss Grant. I've noticed you often remain an hour or two overtime to do my uncle's work " "When that work is important." The man assumed an air of dignity. 68 THE LOSING GAIN 69 "I consider this letter of the greatest impor- tance," he assured her coolly, but before he could continue, Norah Grant, facing him fearlessly, spirit- edly answered: "I don't, Mr. Wells. And I'm quite as conversant with this matter as you." A bright spot burned in each cheek as she concluded. "And I know there is no need of any such haste " She turned toward the door, but the man was on his feet. Without the slightest warning he had reached her side and grasped her hand. "What's the use of pretending, Norah?" he asked, "I'm not such a bad sort, though you have insisted on putting me on so often. I'm very fond of you, really, come on, let's kiss and make up no more of this foolishness " Norah was not able to explain the strength that came to her as she wrenched loose from the man's hold, but her dignity bade her not to run. Instead, she started, wordlessly indignant, to walk toward the door. She could not imagine that Wells would take any other course than to allow her to go on her way without further molestation. Whereby she showed her ignorance of the existence of such a type of man as Wells. For in one bound he had reached the door and stood before it. "You just listen to me!" He was angry. "I'm not a villain in a cheap melodrama, and I haven't any intention of forcing you to submit to my em- braces, but I don't like the way you've been trying to hold yourself so devilishly aloof, and I'm going to find out a few things. I insist that you stay right here and talk to me for a while." 70 THE LOSING GAIN Though her cheeks were blazing, and her throat choked with a rush of words, the girl forced her- self to an appearance of calmness. With the air of a studied woman of the world she said coldly: "I can't imagine what good that can possibly do." "A lot, probably," he replied, insolently. "Per- haps, probably, I might say, after an hour's talk here you may, er kiss me quite willingly." Norah's shoulders shrugged meaningly, and the smile she gave as she looked the man straight in the eyes was contemptuous as she added, levelly: "Really, Mr. Wells, don't you think this nonsense has gone far enough? Open that door please! At once!" For answer the man shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his narrow eyes regarding her. "Norah, my dear, I meant every word I said." There was something in the very calmness of his voice; in the dangerous light in his eyes; in his in- solent poise that proved to Norah Grant, little ex- perienced in dealing with men of such caliber as she was, that this was not an impetuous boy, as she had at first imagined, but a man who was more used to ruthless dealing to gain his ends, however un- worthy those ends might be. There shot swiftly before her mind's eye the old, old advice about dis- cretion being the better part of valor. Once more her shoulders shrugged, and she walked back to the desk, calmly, unafraid. "Very well, then," she answered in a still voice, "if you've made up your mind to talk to me, and are willing to take the method you have, I'm sure I can't prevent it. And perhaps," one moment a glance in his direction shot from her eyes sidelong, THE LOSING GAIN -71 "it may not be a bad thing for us to understand :each other thoroughly." Wells, however, chose to ignore the obvious mean- ing. "Now, you're acting like a sensible little girl," he complimented, as he sauntered towards her, his attitude changed in the flash of an eye from belliger- ency to that of the suave gentleman he usually seemed to be. "No harm meant, I assure you didn't mean to offend you I'm a gentleman and any girl " "Of course, Mr. Wells." From her tone Norah might have been stating a fact, for there was no hint of the veiled sarcasm^the man knew must be in the agreement; nor did he care. "But there is one thing " She hesitated. "Yes?" "If I am to stay here, I really must telephone my mother I'm detained. I always do and she would be worried otherwise." It was with the same assumption of elaborate courtesy with which he had once opened the door for her, that Wells picked up the desk telephone and handed it to her. So intent on his own thoughts was he, though, that he would not have noticed the triumphant gleam in her eyes could he have seen beneath the downcast lids, nor could he guess the beating of her heart as she quietly called her number. "That you, Susy?" she asked presently. "Please ask mama to come to the telephone hello, mama, dear? Yes, will you please come down to the office at once, mama, yes yes I'm not feeling very well . No nothing serious, just a a sort of headache and dizzy feeling and I don't want to go 72 THE LOSING GAIN home alone. I'll be all right it will only take you about twenty minutes and besides I'm not here alone Mr. Wells is here with me yes I think he'll stay until you come. Now don't worry about me, mama just a minute, and I'll ask Mr. Wells to talk to you and assure you that I'm all right." She turned to Wells. Never in her life would she forget the expression in his face. Like the hero or villain of a screen drama he seemed endeavoring to register all the emotions at once; rage, bewilder- ment, incredulity, not unmingled with a certain amount of admiration. "Mr. Wells." She held out the receiver, finding it a bit difficult not to smile. "Will you kindly assure my mother that I'll be perfectly all right here with you until she comes?" "With pleasure, Miss Grant." He was mock- ingly deferential as he took the receiver. "How do you do, Mrs. Grant? There is no need for you to worry. Oh, no just a slight indisposition, I assure you. Yes I'll tell her. Good-by." He replaced the receiver slowly and eyed Norah steadily for a moment before he spoke: "Your mother will be here in less than half an hour. Permit me to congratulate you upon your cleverness. For a girl believed to have so little ex- perience, let me add, you show remarkable presence of mind." Norah did not deign to answer him as she walked from the room. Ready for the street, he appeared a minute later and paused long enough to say, as he drew on his gloves : "It is probably unnecessary and undesirable THE LOSING GAIN 73 for me to remain with you until your mother comes. You are most capable of taking care of yourself." "I shall manage very nicely, thank you," Norah answered demurely. "I will wait downstairs for mother, so you may lock the office." As she crossed the threshold he stopped her again. "Just one thing more, Miss Grant. I don't for- get easily. You are the first girl who has ever dared to make a fool of me, and " Even while she realized that the remark would probably cost her her position, she answered sweetly: "Thank you, Mr. Wells; I appreciate the honor." She smiled while he fumbled nervously with his keys, but the minute she was in the elevator, out of his sight, she began to wilt like a faded flower. She dabbed hastily with her handkerchief at the two big tears that began to trickle down her cheeks. Standing in a secluded corner of the hallway, she saw Stuart Wells come down in the next elevator and hurriedly leave the building. As she waited in the entrance for her mother, she found time to think over the past hour carefully. The one thing she was determined upon was that her mother should know nothing of it. It would be necessary to stick to her white lie, of course, and let her mother think she was ill. At least that sort of worry would be a natural one and she would be over it the moment Norah assured her that she was feeling better. To protect her mother and keep her days free from worry. That to Norah Grant was the essen- tial thing in the world. The old look of determina- 74 THE LOSING GAIN tion and courage sprang into her eyes as she stood in the growing twilight, watching the fog rolling steadily in. If she intended to become a business woman and battle with the world, this was, perhaps, only one of the many problems she would be com- pelled to meet. Of one thing she felt assured; she had emerged from her first battle victoriously, at least so far. That there would be a sequel she felt rather certain, but somehow she was not in the least disturbed by the thought. She suddenly felt revived and fortified; she knew not whether it was the soft mist of the fog or the smile on her mother's face as she came quickly toward her. "Oh, Norah dear, you must be better if you're able to stand down here. What seemed to be the matter?" "I'm all right now, mama." Norah was anxious to get it over with. "I was a little faint, but this air has helped; I would have telephoned for you not to come, but I knew you must have left." Norah linked her arm within her mother's as they started down the street and snuggled up to her. "To tell the truth, mama, I think I was just sort of babyish and wanted to have you call for me just as you used to on Saturday nights when I worked in Taylor's candy store." Mrs. Grant patted her hand affectionately. "You've never had very much babying, Norah," she said sadly. "It seems to me you've been working for years." "Why, that's nothing to feel badly about, mama. I love to work." "I know that, dear, but you're missing all your THE LOSING GAIN 75 girlhood you never have any pleasures or a chance; for the dreams that all young girls love.'' "You mean parties and dances and picnics and things like that?" Norah laughed in a carefree manner. "Well, yes; that's what I do mean the natural things for all young girls to crave." "I'm sure Susy makes up for the whole family when it comes to things like that." Norah's laugh was still heartier and good natured. There was such a lightening in her heart just to feel the close- ness of her mother; the warmth of her body. "I've told you often enough I don't care at all about such things." "You don't know whether you do or not," her mother answered as they boarded a Mission Street car. "You've never had a chance to find out." "How about you, mama? Did you do all those things when you were a girl?" There was method in the query, for Norah knew if there was one thing in the world that her mother loved it was to talk about the days of her courtship and early marriage. She lived and relived, again and again, the moonlight hay rides in Castro Valley, the Sunday Picnics to Dublin Canyon, and later the Friday nights at the Tivoli, the Sunday promenades in Golden Gate Park and the annual dance given by the employees of Tuttle, Brandon & Briggs. "So you see, dear, I had a lot of good times when I was young. Just the memory of those days has helped me through the drab ones." "You and I will have plenty of good times later on, mama," Norah assured her. "I can get all the 76 THE LOSING GAIN pleasure I want just by planning my business career and thinking about the time when I will be able to take care of you all by myself." She gave the elder woman's hand a gentle squeeze. Mrs. Grant's head shook slowly, but there was a great light of satisfied mother love in her eyes as she answered : "Sometimes you almost frighten me with your queer notions about life and happiness. After all it takes more than a successful business career to make life worth while. It isn't good for anyone to allow ambition to carry them too far, and I'm afraid that's what you're doing." "Why, mama ! Just because I don't care for parties and dances?" "Not only that, dear, but in everything else you are different from the majority of girls," her mother answered. "I don't want you to become obsessed with this idea of independence to such an extent that it will ruin your life." "I promise I won't do that," Norah laughed. "I wish you would meet some nice young man and get married," Evelyn Grant sighed lugubriously. "And if I did I'd like to know what would become of my sweetheart?" "Your sweetheart? Why, dear, I didn't know j " "You don't know who my sweetheart is?" "Why, no ! You never even mentioned " "It's you, of course, precious; didn't you know it? Here's our corner now let's talk about some- thing nicer than men, or my marrying. I have ages and ages before I have to think about that." CHAPTER VIII A WOMAN scorned! Same old story; same old theme; played upon through the ages; adding to the already too great pomposity of man concerning his own broad, forgiving nature; one more proof of the superiority of his sex; another vaunting of the time-worn fallacy. To know the truth, ask a woman in business. Hear what she may say o? the man who is scorned. Ask her; that's all! And Norah Grant, a business woman, came to know all it meant, all the humiliation of having scorned a man, a man at that who, by his superior position, his chances for humiliation, for the sup- posedly feminine prerogative of "getting even" could make things, to say the least, decidedly un- pleasant for her who scorned. So unpleasant that, on the return of her employer from his trip East, she felt there was nothing else to do but resign. Albert Carew did not take her resignation with all the resignation he might have. In fact, he was most disturbed, and had he not been the discerning man he was, he might have insisted on her remaining. But years as a lawyer, of reading men's and women's hearts, had taught old Albert Carew much, and it needed little more than the few chill words orcr- heard between his nephew and Norah Grant to show him how the wind lay. And, courteous, old-school 77 78 THE LOSING GAIN gentleman that he was, he realized that, however much to be regretted it was, there was no other way out, save to allow his cherished secretary to resign, or to discharge his own nephew, a thing he obvi- ously could not do, since Stuart Wells was a kind of trust. But Albert Carew knew. His big booming voice reached her through the closing door the day she had gone in to tender her resignation, as she went through it for the last time. Carew was speaking to his nephew. "I've always known the species you belonged to, Stuart," he said acidly, "but I didn't think you were exactly that kind of a pup. If you're ever to succeed in this business you'll have to learn discernment, and half an eye should have shown you Norah Grant is a lady!" She could not make out the sourly mumbled re- ply of Wells, but her heart sang at the tribute to herself she had overheard. It was through Carew that she obtained another position within the week, a position so much more lucrative and with chances for advancement that she had no time to regret the severing of her pleasant relations with old Albert Carew. Chance threw Daniel Thorne, one of the city's best known brokers, in the old lawyer's way the same night, Thorne be- wailing to his old friend the loss of his secretary who was to be married. So, at the end of the week, while Stuart Wells discontentedly dictated his letters to a sallow com- plexioned, watery-eyed young man, Norah Grant had taken up her duties in the office of Daniel Thorne, a position she fitted into so admirably that THE LOSING GAIN 79 at the end of the year she had been advanced to the position of private secretary and general manager. Mrs. Grant, over in Oakland, gossiping on one of her rare visits with the old sewing circle, could well be forgiven her pardonable pride. "And such a salary!" she exclaimed, telling them of Norah. "Why, there's not another girl in the city getting it. And she does so much! You know we've moved from the old flat in Capp Street to the loveliest four room apartment on Pine near Jones nearer Norah's office, you know. Yes, we've sold all the old furniture, everything brand new of course it's a little further for Susan, but she doesn't mind, Norah pays the fare, and all " She frowned a little as she added the latter. It was a sore point with Mrs. Grant; how Susan so blandly allowed her sister to do everything; how Susan herself did nothing save for herself. Once she remonstrated. "I shouldn't think you would allow it, Susy," Mrs. Grant had tried to argue with her. "It seems to me your pride would prevent you from depending entirely upon anyone." "No, mama," Susy laughed, "I'm not a bit proud. Norah's got enough independence in her nature to sign a little declaration of her own. Besides, she's my sister and can afford it, so why shouldn't I accept it?" "Don't you think she's doing more than her duty by entirely supporting me and not allowing me to do anything?" the mother asked. "Well, she makes four times as much as I do and she hardly spends a thing on clothes," Susan 80 THE LOSING GAIN insisted. "It costs so much for me to keep up with the styles." "And look at what she is doing for Jimmie," Mrs. Grant rambled on. "Giving him that special electrician's course. She's a wonderful girl." "Oh, I suppose she is," Susan acknowledged a bit grudgingly. "But don't forget, mama, that she doesn't deserve all the credit for it. She just hap- pened to fall into an extra amount of good luck when old Carew got her the position with Mr. Thorne." "Luck wouldn't have advanced her to where she is to-day; nothing but ability and hard work did that," Mrs. Grant protested firmly. So Norah continued to bear all the expenses, to pay for Jimmie's tuition and in everything to assume the entire responsibility of the head of the house- hold. She gloried in it all; it was the thing she had dreamed of for years and she could see herself ad- vancing further and further. Mr. Thorne was lavish in his praise and continued encouragement. "You are a most unusual girl, Miss Grant," he said on more than one occasion. "Few women dis- play such perfect understanding of the general business conditions of to-day. Your judgment even at the present time is often superior to that of a great many men I know who have been in business for years, so I can imagine what it will be after a little more experience." All this was delightfully gratifying to Norah and added another spark to her already brightly burning flame of ambition. The new apartment was furnished quite plainly THE LOSING GAIN 81 and in good taste. Norah and Susan had argu- ments over the selection of things but in the end Norah won out, for after all she was paying for nearly everything, as the sale of the Capp Street furniture brought next to nothing. "Well, there's one consolation," Susan said as she shook her head at the quiet gray rugs and simple wicker pieces. "When I have a home of my own I can furnish it to suit myself. This place has about as much style to it as you have yourself, Norah." "I think it's lovely," Norah answered, look- ing around proudly. "It's simple, lovely; just the sort of home I always wanted mama to have." "It's simple, all right; I'll agree to that," Susan laughed. "But I don't care. I won't be in it much outside of coming home to sleep." "As far as I'm concerned," Jimmie blurted out, "I liked the old house better. First of all we're packed in here like a box of sardines, me sleeping in a wall bed in the front room, Susy in a wall bed in the dining room and mother and Norah in the bedroom. Too bad we can't find somebody to sleep in the kitchen. And, besides, I miss the old gang that hangs around Capp and Seventeenth. I don't believe in people moving away from the part of town they were brought up in we were all born and raised in the Mission and we should have stayed there." "Why, Jimmie!" Norah seemed greatly surprised. "I thought you agreed with me about people trying in every way to improve themselves?" "Yes, when it comes to studying and learning new things," he answered, "but not when it comes to trying to mix with people outside of your own class. 82 THE LOSING GAIN Some day everyone will be equal and then things will be fairer." "Jimmie !" Mrs. Grant's voice was full of alarm. "You talk as if you were developing socialistic ideas that school doesn't seem to be doing him much good, Norah. He probably comes in contact with a lot of boys who are responsible for these new ideas." "I'm sure Jimmie's all right, mama," Norah answered as she went over and placed her hand tend- erly on the boy's shoulder. "He's just a little lonesome for his friends, that's all. Why don't you run out to see them to-night, Jimmie? I'll give you some extra money and you can take in a show if you want to." "Would I like to? Try me and see!" Jimmie jumped up joyfully. "You're a peach, Norah, and I didn't mean all that stuff I said a few minutes ago honest, I didn't." Six months after they moved to Pine street, Jimmie came home one evening and informed the family that he had accepted a position in Los Angeles as assistant electrician at one of the moving-picture studios. Mrs. Grant opposed it immediately. "I don't want you to go so far away from home, Jimmie," she said, trying to keep back her tears. "After all, you're my baby and I can't let you go away from me." "Nonsense, mother." Jimmie put his arms around her and began to coax. "I'm some baby nearly nineteen. I can't stay tied to your apron strings forever and this is a wonderful opportunity for me to work my way into a fine position." "But why can't you work your way up in San Francisco? Why must you go to Los Angeles?" THE LOSING GAIN 83 "Because this particular position happens to be in Los Angeles, mother." Jimmie was a little im- patient. "It isn't as if I were going to the end of the world it's only an overnight ride." "Just the same it's a strange city for you. Re- member you don't know a soul there. Norah, what do you think about it?" As usual she turned to her for advice. "Why, I think it's a splendid chance for Jimmie, mama, and he should be allowed to take it. He can always come back if he doesn't like it and the experience will do him good." After a great deal of discussion, Mrs. Grant finally yielded to Jimmied coaxings and Norah's persuasions. The family was kept busy for three days before Jimmie's departure. Mrs. Grant saw that all his clothes were in perfect condition, bought a small trunk and packed it for him; Norah bought his ticket and gave him fifty dollars to tide him over the first week until he received his pay. Even Susan contributed her share; she bought him two neckties, a pair of Boston garters and remained home an evening to manicure his nails, against his wishes. Jimmie left on Saturday and they all accompanied him across the bay to the Oakland mole and saw him safely aboard the "Owl." Mrs. Grant tried not to cry as she kissed him good-by. "Be a good boy, Jimmie," was her final admo- nition, "and always remember your mother and sisters." "I will, mother," he promised, "and I'll be a big success and send for you all to come and spend the summer with me." "That's the way to talk." Susan kissed him. 84 THE LOSING GAIN "And if they can't come, I will; I'm crazy to see the inside of a studio." "Good-by, Jimmie." Norah was the last to speak. "I know we'll all be proud of you some day. Just make up your mind to work hard and you're bound to succeed." "Good-by, Norah." He kissed her affection- ately. "You've been awfully good to me and I won't disappoint you." The apartment was quiet and lonely after Jimmie left. What a difference a boy makes in a home. They missed the way he used to run in every eve- ning, throw his coat on one chair and his cap on another while he always asked the same question: "What have you for dinner to-night, mother? I'm hungry as a bear." For the first month he wrote home every other day. His letters were full of enthusiasm over his work, the firm which employed him and his future prospects. Then he told them he would be obliged to limit his letters to one a week, as he was so busy and compelled to work overtime he couldn't pos- sibly write so often. He always assured them that he was doing finely and would surely work his way up in time. Jimmie had been in Los Angeles about four months when Susan began keeping steady company, as she termed it, with Jack Long, a young automobile salesman of Oakland. He was a good looking chap, inclined to be a bit sporty and rather given to boasting about his knowledge of the automobile business. Susan met him at a party one night and was favorably im- pressed. And he thought Susan the most attractive THE LOSING GAIN & girl he had ever met. He admired her blonde beauty, and her rather flashy style appealed to him. She was jolly and good natured, and he was sure she would be a dandy pal. From that night they began going about to- gether. They both liked the same things, dances, theaters, cafes; and in every way they were thor- oughly congenial. One Sunday evening Susan invited him to her home for dinner. "I want you to meet my mother and sister, Jack," she said. "Mother's a dear, but I'm afraid you won't look at me again after you meet Norah." "Why, is she such a beauty?" He was curious. "She'll have to go some to outdo you, girlie." "Well, I wouldn't exactly call Norah a beauty," she answered, "although she could improve herself a hundred per cent if she'd bother a little about clothes, but she's so clever you never met anyone like her. W'hen it comes to business she's a wonder." "Well," announced Jack, as he gave Susan's well manicured hand a little squeeze, "I, for one, never cared about brainy women, always trying to put one over on the men. Give me a pretty woman and a good fellow and that's all I ask." He threw her an admiring glance, which she accepted lan- guishingly. Both Mrs. Grant and Norah liked Jack Long. True, he was a bit slangy and boastful at times, but he was a wholesome sort of chap and he wore well. He was at his best with his amusing stories about his experiences while trying to sell automobiles, and the evening passed pleasantly. 86 THE LOSING GAIN A month later Susan and Jack were engage'd. Mrs. Grant was well pleased; Jack was kind and attentive to her and she thought Susan was doing exceedingly well. "Of course he isn't rich," she began talking it over with Norah, "but neither was your father, and we were very happy. Money isn't everything and he makes a good living. Just think; he has enough money saved up to make a first payment on a little bungalow and furnish it that's a lot more than I had when I married.'* "I know, mama," Norah answered, "but I don't think it took as much to live on then as it does now. Don't you think they ought to rent a little place instead of starting off by running in debt and paying interest every month?" "No, I don't think anything of the kind." For once Mrs. Grant answered the daughter she loved and a bit feared, with something of asperity. There were some things she was sure she knew more about than Norah. One could be fallible, and when it came to courtship and marriage and a love nest "There's nothing like owning your own home, and why should they be paying rent when they might be buying a place of their own?" "Maybe you're right, dear, but I can't see it that way." Norah smiled. "At all events you will en- joy getting Susan's trousseau and getting ready for the wedding, won't you?" "Indeed, I will! I only pray, Norah, you will give me the joy of doing the same for you before I die!" "Oh. mama!" Norah shook her head. "The idea of you talking about dying why, you're years THE LOSING GAIN 87 younger in your actions than many a girl of eighteen." Susan gave up her position the following week. She was going to be married in two months and there was a great deal to do in the meantime. Norah made it very easy for her. "I'll buy your trousseau for you, Susy dear," she said warmly. "I'll use the money I made from the stock Mr. Thorne gave me for Christmas, and although we may not be able to buy very elaborate things I think we can do very well." "Norah! Norah! you're a darling!" Susan hugged her. "Maybe you'll be getting married some day, and I'll be in a position to"4o as much for you." "Don't make any rash promises," Norah laughed. "That will be a long ways off and by that time you may have a family of your own to look after." I CHAPTER IX T'S a dear little place," agreed Norah Grant, as she looked about the home Susan and Jack had made for themselves, "but " "Oh, Norah, don't don't be a wet blanket for once!" Susan, a more tender, gentle Susan than her usual self, in the first flush of happiness of a honeymoon that was living up to all requirements, flew to her sister's side and impulsively flung her arms about her. "We love it, Jack and I indeed, we do, and we're going to do such wonderful things! Why, you ought to know all that Jack is planning! Even you, with all your strict ideas of business, couldn't be more enthusiastic than he! Oh, you'll see! You'll see what we'll do!" Norah smiled indulgently at the effervescence of the little sister she had come to know knew so little of the value of money and the worth of things as she, herself, in a clear-headed, calcu- lating way, had come to know them. She felt much as a mother might toward a misunderstanding child as the young wife prattled on. "Do you know what he is going to do, now? He has measured the distance between this bungalow and the one next, and he's found there's oodles of room for a driveway, so we're going to have a garage in the back, just think of it! and we're going to have a car and " her cheeks flushed warmly beneath her rouge from happiness, just as 88 THE LOSING GAIN 89 Norah remembered them to have flushed when, as a child, Susan had planned things for Christmas that would have been far from being possible. "And," Susan hurried on, "he says there isn't a bit of doubt I can soon drive it myself, and I'll come and take you out, and " For the moment Norah wasn't listening to the plans of her sister. Her mind had flown to the possibilities of what Susan and Jack might be facing in their careless indifference to money matters. In her heart, Norah did not approve of all this which she inwardly characterized as extravagance on the part of the newly weds. The stern necessity of mak- ing her own way since childhood; the sternness of life itself unless one could meet responsibilities in a monetary way, had been borne in on her early when she had so ambitiously taken on herself the responsibility of being the head of a family. She was wondering what might happen to them, her own brain rapidly calculating what she might do in case of need. Would she be able to do all that she wished for Susan, as well as for her mother, in case Susan and Jack went on the rocks, as she feared they might, in their youthful belief that all good things would come to them that wanted them, instead of to them that worked and saved for them. But she could not tell Susan, this new, tenderer Susan, what she was thinking. It would have been like taking away from a child her Santa Claus doll. Susan and Jack had been married a month. Norah had, of course, been over to the bungalow with her mother and Susan, many times, but this was the first time she had dropped in unannounced, or had time to see just how the two were living day by 90 THE LOSING GAIN (day, and she had been just a bit frightened by the signs of extravagance, new things bought since the furnishing of the honeymoon cottage; tradespeople turned away with a promise instead of payment. It was a pretty place, though. She had to admit that, and there would have been others, less far- seeing than Norah Grant who might have thought the arrangement a splendid one, who would not have been given a vision of any disaster ever ap- proaching. There were so many to countenance, to approve, the idea of buying instead of renting. It was the furnishing, though, of which Norah most disapproved, even as she had on her first view of it. But she had come to realize that it expressed Susan, and she had made up her mind to say nothing, though she remembered with what difficulty she had restrained her groan at her first vision of the place. Susan's bungalow was one of twelve that had just been erected about three blocks from the Piedmont Key Route terminal. To most people, it had been considered a good buy at four thousand, with a cash payment of five hundred, and forty dollars monthly. Susan had enthused to an overflowing effervescence as she had told her mother and Norah about it for the first time. "Built-in book cases," she announced, "and the dining room has a buffet, and there's the coziest breakfast nook in the kitchen! And you ought to see the bedrooms! Three of them, and sunny! And then the lawn! All planted, already, and a real, real backyard!" Susan had everything her own way when it came to furnishing the bungalow. Jack thought all of her selections the most admirable, and had a word of THE LOSING GAIN 91 praise for each thing she purchased. Mrs. Grant and Norah both offered suggestions but Susan re- fused to listen. "You did anything you pleased with the apart- ment, and I hadn't a thing to say. Now, with my own home it's different. Jack says my taste is perfect we both like everything bright and cheerful, and you like it just the opposite." "All right, Susy, we won't say another word," Norah gave in, "only I do think you'll get dread- fully tired of the red carpet in the hall and dining room." "There is nothing so hard to keep clean as red carpet," Mrs. Grant interposed hesitatingly, for she understood the attitude of her child in wanting to express only herself in this, the first home of her own. "Well, I haven't a thing to do but take care of my house and as soon as Jack can afford it a little better we're going to have a girl." Susan passed the matter off as one of small consideration. When the home was finished, Susan and Jack had all the pride of accomplishment in it. They stood in the center of each room gazing about them rapturously. Jack gave Susan the credit for it all. "You've sure made a fine job of it, girlie," he com- plimented. "Wait till some of my friends see it. Won't they be jealous though !" Norah had first gone over with Sqsan and Jack the Sunday before they were to be married. As she followed them about from room to room, she knew she was expected to be lavish in her praise. Her compassion told her that to be truthful to these two young people would be utterly out of the question. 92 THE LOSING GAIN They would not appreciate her candidness and would in all probability misconstrue her meaning and dis- like her were she to dare to say what she thought. So she decided for diplomacy and when Susan ex- claimed breathlessly: "Well, what do you think of it all?" she put her arms tenderly about her little sister and, smiling at Jack, said, with an air of sincerity: "I know you are going to be the two happiest people in the world in this little home!" As they all crossed back on the boat Norah could not help wondering over the difference between Susan and herself. For sisters they were so unlike in every- thing. This furnishing of the home was only one instance. Norah closed her eyes to shut out the memory of the green living room, red dining room, and the pink, blue and yellow bedrooms, each one carried out in detail, even to the paper waste-baskets in the corners. Susan and Jack's was a quiet home wedding to which only a few of the nearest relatives were in- vited. There were, to begin with, four cousins of Susan's who came from San Leandro. It was true she hadn't seen them for years, but she felt that she must make some sort of a showing at her wedding, outside of her mother and sister, for it had been a disappointment when Jimmie had written it would be impossible to come, since they were making a new picture at the studio in which he was working, which kept him day and night. He did send twenty-five dollars for a wedding present, however, a gift which Susan at once transmuted into a hundred-piece dinner set of white and gold with pink rosebuds and green leaves scattered here and there. THE LOSING GAIN 93 Then there was Jack's married sister, her husband and two boisterous children, a boy and girl of eight and ten; and his maiden aunt. Norah could not re- strain a smile at the antics of the maiden lady. She wept copiously if one looked at her, and otherwise behaved as though she were officiating at the obsequies of her nephew. "Poor boy!" she remarked again and again, and sigh voluminously. For all of her attitude she might have been bidding Jack good-by forever. In her suit and hat of light gray and her white fox fur, Susan made a most attractive bride. The white fox had come done up in quantities of tissue paper with appropriate greetings from the La Rose parlors. It was not until after Jack and Susan had been gone for some hours in their roadster, borrowed from Jack's firm for the occasion, bound for Del Monte, and after the last lingering guest had bidden farewell, that Norah and her mother were alone. And not until then that Mrs. Grant gave way to the first burst of tears, the proper accompaniment to any wedding with those of her own generation. In con- sideration of Norah, and of Susan, who frankly hated tears, she had refrained, but it was Norah who, leaving the door, after speeding the last guest, found the mother huddled in the low rocker in the sitting room, sobbing brokenly. "Mama, dear, you mustn't, you really mustn't," she protested, as, with her own handkerchief she started to wipe away the tears. "Why, I'd think you'd be glad to know Susy is as happy as she is 1" "I am I am," moaned Mrs. Grant, "but oh, 94 THE LOSING GAIN dear, you don't understand. It seems like I'm losing her! One by one, they're leaving me first Jimmie, now Susan, I I suppose you'll go next." Exasperated, though indulgent, Norah repressed a frown. "Why, dear little mother," she asked, "where would I go?" "Oh, I don't know maybe on a business trip to a foreign country. Somehow, I can't think of you getting married, though, I I wish you would!" Purposely ignoring the plaintive plea in the latter part of her mother's wail, Norah soothed her. "When I go on any business trip," she said, "I'm going to take you with me you needn't fear any separation from me." Much as Norah had expected, life did not hold much of a serious aspect for either Susan or Jack on their return from Del Monte to take up their busi- ness of living. Life could not mean much of serious- ness to Susan, though Norah had hoped much for the chastening influence of marriage and the new responsibilities. Susan was the same old Susan; Jack the same old Jack. For them life was one round of pleasure. For, of course, their friends all gave parties in their honor and it was no more than natural that they should entertain in return. They wanted their friends to see their little bungalow; to see them a part of it; and the days and nights raced on happily between its stuccoed walls. They played at housekeeping much as two children might have in a dry-goods box house. Even cooking was not much in their routine. If they had company, Susan would cook. If not, there were so many other resources; eating with the friends who were so generous with THE LOSING GAIN 95 invitations; dining with Susan's mother at least two or three times a week. "It's so convenient to go to mama's for dinner," Susan told her friends, "and we can always get away in time to go to a dance or a show and neither she nor Norah care at all. They're always glad to see us have a good time." "Norah," Mrs. Grant said at the table one eve- ning after she had returned from spending the day in Piedmont, "Susy's a dreadful housekeeper. Every- thing in the place was topsy-turvy when I got there and it was almost twelve o'clock. They had com- pany for dinner last night and all the dishes were still on the dining room table." "Perhaps the company stayed so late she couldn't straighten things." Norah tried to make excuses for her sister. "And that wasn't all," her mother continued, not convinced. "Susy was still in bed when I got there reading a novel. Said she hadn't any idea it was so late. And when I started to clear up the place and went into the kitchen I found the sink stacked with dishes that must have been there a couple of days." "What did Susy say about it?" "Said the woman was coming to give the house a general cleaning to-morrow and she would do dishes and all." "You know, mama, Susy never had any experience at housekeeping. I suppose I'd do the same if I were in her place." "No, you would not, Norah Grant." Her mother was most emphatic. "You're different. No matter what you do, you always do it well." "Susy's only been married three months and she 96 THE LOSING GAIN hasn't settled down yet," Norah averred. "Give her a little time and she'll be all right." But neither Susan nor Jack ever did settle down. After five years of married life they were still run- ning wild in spite of their two husky little sons. Robert was born during the third year of their marriage and Junior a year later. Mrs. Grant had hoped that motherhood would bring to Susan a realization of her responsibilities and help Jack to assume his own. But just as soon as Susan was able to be up and about they procured the services of a middle-aged woman to take entire charge of the baby and they were free to come and go as before. Mrs. Ward was still with them when Junior was born, so it was the same thing over again. Withal, though, the Longs were as happy as the average couple who live from day to day without any definite purpose in view or plans for making head- way. Jack earned a good salary beside his com- missions; still they were always in debt. They still owed quite a sum on their home as they had paid merely the interest and but little on the principal. In five years they had bought three different auto- mobiles, always selling before they made their final payment and investing in a better one, so that they never managed really to own one. Susan solved all her problems by employing the installment plan system. Her piano, victrola, electric sewing machine and even her "nearly" sealskin coat were all bought in this way. Norah tried to explain the error of things to her one day when they were lunching at the Woman's Exchange. Susan had been enthusing over a vacuum cleaner a friend of hers had purchased. THE LOSING GAIN 97 "It's a wonder," she said, "and makes the work so easy. I've a good mind to get one; only five dollars down and a dollar a week." "But, Susan!" Norah seemed surprised. "You're paying off so many things all the time I should think you'd go wild trying to keep track of them all." "I don't have to keep track of them," Susan laughed. "They never fail to send me the notices to the minute when the payments fall due." "Do you and Jack ever stop to realize that you're paying interest on things all the time, and that you can never make any headway?" "Well, what's the difference, Norah, as long as you get what you want? For my part," Susan de- clared firmly, "I think it's a perfectly wonderful way for people who haven't much money." So Norah saw the futility of argument and changed the subject. CHAPTER X SUSAN had been married five years when news came from Jimmie, announcing his engagement to Miss Doris Webster. "Doris is a wonderful girl," he wrote, "and I know you will all love her. At present she is only playing extras, but I know some day she will be a great star. She is beautiful and has a lot of talent. She has consented to marry me only on condition that she be allowed to keep up her work and remain per- fectly independent. She's like Norah that way. We'll get along fine because the firm is going to give me another raise. I'll still be able to send you a little money every month. I wish we could come to San Francisco for our honeymoon but I don't think we will be able to stay away that long. Doris is going to write to you and I hope you will all try to like her for my sake." Mrs. Grant was inclined to be doubtful. "It doesn't seem to me as if an actress could make him a very good wife," she said thoughtfully. "She'll be all taken up wijh her art and not find time to be domesticated." "That doesn't necessarily have to be the case, mama." Norah wanted to be just, although she, too, was not without her doubts as to the expediency of such a mating as Jimmie proposed. "Plenty of women not in the least way connected with the stage or the movies are not at all inclined toward domesticity. Take Susy for example." 98 THE LOSING GAIN 99 "Yes, I suppose you're right," Mrs. Grant ad- mitted, "but I can't picture Jimmie marrying an actress. We've never had one in the family before." Norah smiled at her mother's plaintiveness. "What is that little saying they attribute to some noted person or other," she asked irrelevantly, "about 'actresses will happen in the best regulated families'?" But to Susan the news was of huge importance. "Wonderful," she enthused, "our sister-in-law a great star like Mary Pickford! Maybe we'll have a chance to put Robert and Junior in the pictures." "She's not a star yet," Norah corrected. "Jimmie J +J only said he believed she would be some day. But the main thing is that Jimmie loves her and it's our duty to write her a cordial letter and welcome her into the family." There was given Norah Grant, though, more food for thought in this missive from her brother and the plans he was making for his future life than to any other of the less deeply thinking members of the Grant family. "Mama," she suggested at the first moment they could talk things over alone, "don't you think you had better tell Jimmie to stop sending you an allow- ance? You really don't need it and if he's going to be married it seems to me he will be able to use all of his salary himself. And now, really, isn't all you 'ever do with it is to give it to Susy?" Somewhat reluctantly the mother admitted it. "But Susy," she hesitated, "well er you know how it is well enough. Susy seems somehow always to need it, and and I " 100 THE LOSING GAIN Norah waved aside the half apology and spoke rather brusquely: "I don't think it's quite fair to give Jimmie's money to Susy now that he will have a wife of his own. I'll give you whatever you have been receiving from Jimmie and I'll never ask you how you spend it." "Of all the inconsistency!" Mrs. Grant dropped into her rocker as she addressed the world at large. "She doesn't think it's fair to give Jimmie's money to Susy and yet she's going to give me a like sum and never ask what I do with it, knowing perfectly well that I'll give it to Susy." "That's a different thing, mama. I can afford it a whole lot easier than Jimmie." So it was that not the smallest of James Grant's wedding presents when he and Doris were married the following month was that letter from his mother telling him that henceforth he need make her no allow- ance, as she was plentifully provided for, and she felt sure he could use all his salary himself. Jimmie breathed a sigh of relief. After the mounting costs of setting up a home of his own, he had been wonder- ing how he was going to live up to his promise. It had been a disappointment both to Norah and her mother that they had not been able to attend Jimmie's wedding, but Norah's business had been so pressing that it had been an impossibility. "We'll come in the summer and make you a long visit," she wired her brother. But, as to hope is eternal, so to plan is as human, and without reason save as associated with that same hope. Norah, busy as always with her typewriter and THE LOSING GAIN 101 correspondence a short time after Jimmie's wedding, dropped both, with a suddenness that she had never done before, one day when the telephone tinkled be- side her and she lifted it down to hear a summons that was more compelling than any work she had ever thought of. "Your mother is ill, Miss Grant," came a strange voice over the wire. "I we thought it best to let you know can you come?" Could she come? In record time, Norah Grant's hat was on her head in some fashion and she was speeding down the stairway of the office building, not waiting for even the efficient elevator service. The time for her to reach home seemed interminable, but it was actually made in a quarter of the time it usually took her to traverse the distance. Breathless as she reached her apartment, she was met by a woman she did not know, but whom she had seen on occasions, and knew to be her next door neighbor, Mrs. Duncan, the one person in the new surroundings with whom her mother, in her loneli- ness, had made friends. "Now, don't be too worried, Miss Grant," the elderly, fussy, lady assured her. "It may not be much but we thought " "What is wrong?" asked Norah breathlessly. "Where is she?" Mrs. Duncan nodded toward the bedroom. "I was in here talking to her, getting her recipe for peach short cake, that one you are all so fond of," she started to explain garrulously, to the girl's great impatience "and she slipped off her chair, just like that, and " 102 THE LOSING GAIN But Norah wasn't listening. Already she had flown to the bedroom and had dropped on her knees as she caressed the still form of her mother and called on her in endearing terms. "Oh, mama ! mama ! Answer me, won't you, dear?" she moaned, but the form on the bed with its waxen features might have been carven of stone for all the response to the bitter cry. Norah's head, held over the mother heart, heard a faint flutter. She was unheeding the words of Mrs. Duncan who, backed up by two other neighbors, was still recount- ing her version of the happening. 44 and I picked her up, and asked her to speak to me, and when she didn't I called out for Mrs. Grayson here, and we got her into the bed, and we thought it was just a fainting spell at first, and then " Norah turned on the garrulous one fiercely. <4 Why hasn't somebody called a doctor?" she cried. <4 Mrs. Williams is telephoning for one now. She " But she was cut short by that lady in question who rushed in breathlessly. "I reached Dr. Rogers at his office," she panted. "He said he had a waiting room full of patients, but he would come right up. He's my own physician," she interpolated as explanation to the girl whose expression was inquiring. "His office is at Stockton and Geary, so he can easily get here in a very few minutes. Does she show any signs of re- viving?" "No ! No !" A sob broke from Norah's throat. "Surely you don't think she's she's dead?" THE LOSING GAIN 103 "No, dear.'" Mrs. Duncan was quite positive in her answer as she bent down and placed her head over Mrs. Grant's heart. "I can hear her heart although the beat is very faint." "Why doesn't the doctor come?" Norah rushed impatiently to the window. "Is he very good, Mrs. Williams?" "I have all the confidence in the world in him. He's been our family physician for five years. His father was Dr. Peter Rogers, one of the most famous surgeons in the country, and after his death five years ago his son took over his entire practice." "There!" Norah pointed excitedly to the street below from which a mari\was alighting from a taxi- cab. "Isn't that the doctor now?" The neighbor woman, standing back of her, nodded. "Yes, I'll go let him in." There was small time for Dr. Rogers to notice anything within the next few moments save the patient who lay so still on the bed. After what seemed an interminable period to Norah, though, standing still as a statue herself on the opposite side of the bed, and breathless, he looked up, and his eyes met hers across the white covered bed with its all but lifeless burden. A smile lighted his eyes, a smile of professional sympathy. "A relative?" he asked the girl, but her only answer was a nod. She was too intent on her mother to speak. It was Mrs. Williamr who answered. "Mrs. Grant's daughter," she introduced, apologeti- cally. "There wasn't time before Dr. Rogers nodded understandingly as he laid his stetho- scope on the nearby table, but when he spoke, it was to Norah, tense in her misery of apprehension. 104 THE LOSING GAIN "She's coming around all right," he announced. "What what is it, doctor?" Norah could not quite understand her own inability to use her vocal cords, she, always so cool, so self-possessed, so much mistress of every situation as she had schooled her- self to be. For just a moment, the doctor hesitated; was as though he could hardly find words to tell the truth to this girl with the anguished eyes. "A paralytic stroke, I'm afraid," he answered as gently as might be. For a moment Norah swayed, her hand clutching the bed for support, the other held tightly across her mouth to force back the cry that rose to her lips. Her eyes closed and she seemed about to drop. In a bound Dr. Rogers was by her side, gently forcing her into a chair. "There's no need for this, Miss Grant," he said, professionally stern. "Your mother will soon be conscious." "But paralyzed ! Paralyzed !" Her voice rose to a wail. She could not seem fully to realize all that the information meant, but what she did, meant disaster. Before she could utter another word, Mrs. Grant's eyes opened slowly and she glanced about, bewildered. "Norah !" she whispered weakly. Once more the girl was on her knees beside her mother, her arms about her, cooing, soothing. "Yes, mama, dear, I'm here! Feeling better?" "Yes," hesitantly, " but I I'm so weak, what happened?" "Just a little fainting spell, Mrs. Grant," answered the doctor she had not seen before, and on whom she gazed in alarm. "Here," he held out a THE LOSING GAIN 105 pellet and a plass of water, "drink this, and you'll feel stronger soon." As she complied, her head held up by Norah, she smiled wanly. "Am I sick enough to have a doctor? I've never been sick in my life " "Then you can hope to be up and about as usual," was the physician's rejoinder, "if you'll do as I say, for one thing you must stay in bed for a few days, and " "Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to be up in the morning, doctor," Mrs. Grant pleaded. "I've never given way to myself." "Probably not," and the keen glance Dr. Rogers bent on the invalid provex^ that he was calculating her type to a nicety. "But you must this time, or I must refuse to treat you." Before her mother could answer, it was Norah who eagerly gave assent. "I can promise everything you say, Dr. Rogers," she announced firmly. "I'll be with her, and will see to that!" Dr. Norman Rogers bowed formally. From all outward appearance he was the suave, cool medical man, but could Norah have seen into his heart as his eyes met hers there acro.ss the bed, her own pulse might have beat as fast as his own, for the man who for so long had remained unimpressed by feminine charms, knew as he gazed, that he was looking on the woman who was the one woman in his life. CHAPTER XI A the son of the late Peter Rogers, eminent surgeon, Norman Rogers might have been expected to forge rapidly to the front in his own medical career, but those who knew him best knew well that it was rather in spite of the inherited garment than because of it that the younger man had, in a few short years of practice, won for himself an enviable place among the city's practitioners. Indeed, there had been a time when Dr. Normart Rogers had wanted to leave San Francisco for some other place where he might make his own way, in- stead of being pointed out as the son of the famous surgeon, a course in which he was only dissuaded by his sister Frances, who pleaded that as the father was getting old and needed the son that he should remain with him. Dr. Norman smiled and gave in. He knew how useless it would be to argue with Frances, for all he knew she appreciated his idea, for Frances had had it bred in her that whatever father wished was as good as a kingly command. She had been taught this, he knew, by the mother who had gone through life with his father on a pedestal, and on the mother's death had taken over that ritual as well as the care of the father and ten year-old brother. He knew, too, that to keep faith with that dead mother, his sister had refused suitor after suitor, pre- ferring to devote her life to father and brother. Then had come the sudden death of Dr. Peter Rogers, after the son had been his associate for 106 THE LOSING GAIN 107 about a year, and Dr. Norman Rogers found him- self in charge not only of his own, but of his father's most lucrative practice, a matter that could not be treated lightly by the entire profession. With only himself and his sister Frances left, Dr. Norman Rogers had at first suggested that they move to the city from the great home on the penin- sula, near Burlingame, the wonder place his father had purchased while he, Norman, was still a student at Stanford University; but Frances, to whom he had always gone with his own problems since childhood, and whom he now took no step without consulting, promptly vetoed the proposition. "No, Norman," she told him, "I should hate to give up our home I love my quiet life here, and my beautiful garden, just think I've had the manage- ment of it all for twelve years I should so hate to be cooped up in an apartment, and I don't believe you'd like it either. You can keep father's room at the Palace and stay in town as he did whenever you care to, and " Dr. Rogers laughed, amusedly. "That's a long speech for you, Frances," he told her. "But there's no need to get so excited about it, I only suggested moving because I thought probably the place was too large for us, and too great a care for you. After all there's a fascination about the home place I shouldn't care to lose. So Frances Rogers continued to manage the home and to look after her brother's comfort. It was a labor of love, and she would have been lost without it, but as the years passed she could not fail to wonder why her brother never married, never even showed any interest in women except profes- 108 THE LOSING GAIN sionally, that, in spite of the fact that he was mucK sought after as an eligible, and might have made his own choice. Tall and handsome as he was, so physically fine, with a personality that won him friends on first sight, it was small wonder that feminine hearts beat faster when in his presence, whether professionally or socially. But Dr. Rogers only smiled enigmati- cally whenever his sister who, as ten years his senior, had more of a maternal feeling than a sisterly one for him, sometimes took him to task for his un- interest. "You're sweetheart enough for me," he told her laughingly. "But don't take it too hard, probably an angel will come along some day and " Frances Rogers passed his cup of coffee to him herself, they always dispensed with maid service at the intimate morning meal, "An angel wouldn't be any too good, at that," was her decided comment, and conviction. And so, at thirty-seven, though admiring and re- specting all women who deserved it (and to Dr. Rogers most of them did), there was no indication that he, essentially no ladies' man, would ever be mar- ried. To him, his work was all sufficient, too engross- ing to leave save for the occasional nights he would tear himself away from his library to go with his sister on some social call on friends in Burlingame or San Mateo, or to a dinner, and although there were beautiful and attractive girls in plenty who lionized young Dr. Rogers wherever he went, girls among whom he might have had his pick and choice, he was not attracted. THE LOSING GAIN 109 Strangely enough, for a sister whose whole heart had been wrapped up in the brother since his boy- hood, Frances Rogers showed no selfishness what- ever about his marrying. In fact, like some good mother who hopes the best for her own, she was anxious for such a consummation; hoped that the time would still come when Norman might meet a girl he cared enough for to make his wife. Her own hopes of motherhood gone, Frances Rogers longed with the longing of the truly maternal for children of her brother's whom she might take to her own great heart. There was only one fear about his marrying. Would his wife care for her? Might it still be pos- sible for her to remain ric^ar Norman? She shivered at the thought of being separated from him. On the night before Dr. Rogers was called in to see Mrs. Grant, he and his sister had been to a dinner party. One young woman had particularly taken the sister's eye. At their intimate breakfast, she had broken in on his letter reading long enough to ask: "What did you think of Mrs. Granville's niece last night?" "You mean that dark beauty from Honolulu?" "Yes, didn't you think her singularly attrac- tive?" "I thought she was a stunning looking girl," he answered, opening another letter. "Her people are very influential and quite wealthy, I understand," insinuated the sister. "Frances!" He laid down the letter and looked sharply at her. "Are you trying to hold out a bait forme?" 110 THE LOSING GAIN "Why, no I I " She stammered and blushed. "Do you want to get rid of me," he asked, "or what is the reason for all this?" "Of course I don't want to get rid of you, but you're thirty-seven, you must remember, and it seems to me that you should begin to think about marrying." "Well, you're forty-seven, Frances, and I haven't noticed you thinking about oh, I beg your pardon ! That was unkind of me !" He rose quickly and went to her side. But Frances only laughed. "That's all right, Norman," she answered, "I'm not over-sensitive, you know, and, besides, where could I find any husband who is as good as you are it's a draw-back to have a shining example of manly goodness right at home," with an admiring smile, "but what I mean to impress is that it's only right and fair that a man should have a wife, and and I should hate to see the name of Rogers die out." Dr. Rogers smiled affectionately at his sister as he pushed aside his coffee cup and rose. Dear Frances! When hadn't she been thinking of him of his best interests. But in this particular case, he believed he knew best what was good for him, and matrimony so far was not included in all the good things of life. He stopped back of her chair to lay his hand gently on her slightly graying hair. "I'd like to please you, dear, in this as much as in other things, but I don't know, I don't know. I'll promise to keep an eye out, anyway how will that be? Maybe sometime, I'll find her " THE LOSING GAIN 111 He smiled indulgently at her as he reached the door, and tossed her a kiss as he disappeared. And that afternoon it came, the big thing in his life. Nor had he had to keep an eye out. He had found what he had not dreamed to exist only by opening both eyes as he saw Norah Grant across the bed on which lay her sick mother. That first curious tugging at his heart strings. Immured as he was, he had for a single instant believed it caused by pity for the beautiful girl who was so torn by anguish for her mother. Hers had been such an unusual and not to be doubted example of filial affection. But like a blinding flash of lightning the real meaning had come to him. In that flash he knew that it was love he felt, that for the first time in his life he was in love, and that here was the woman who must share his life, or no other would. True to his word, Dr. Rogers had Mrs. Grant up in a few days. Norah had been constant in her attention during those days, but at the end of the week, it was necessary for her to return to the office, as there was some work that only she could attend to, and Mr. Thorne had been most apologetic over the 'phone when he had asked her if she could manage it. Susan, learning this, offered to come over every day if she could get a substitute to take her place at the Tuesday bridge club, if she could cancel two dinner engagements and a luncheon, and a half dozen other things, but Norah, impatient at such a display answered, just a bit coldly and impatiently: "Not necessary, Susy; we'll manage. Mama's feeling as well as ever, outside of being a little weak. That is to be expected." 1H THE LOSING GAIN "Doesn't she know that she had a stroke?" asked the other sister, unconsciously lowering her voice at the other end of the telephone. "No; and we're not going to tell her. Dr. Rogers says there's no necessity." "Do you think she'll have another? Be careful, now, what you say," advised Susan, "or she'll hear you " "No, she's lying down," Norah sent the answer. "The doctor says she may never have another, but he intends watching her, just the same." "I should think you'd call Dr. Stratton who has always attended mama, Norah," Susan offered querulously, but her sister interrupted with decision: "Dr. Stratton is very old, my dear child, and, besides, both mama and I have the utmost confidence in Dr. Rogers, after what he has done for mama. That is a great thing, you must remember." "Oh, I suppose so." Susan, with the sense of hav- ing performed her duty, had other things to attend to. "Well, if you want me," she concluded, "just let me know. Give my love to mama. Good-by, we'll be over Sunday Good-by." Dr. Rogers dropped in unexpectedly after dinner that evening. To many, it might have seemed a bit outside of the professional when he handed Mrs. Grant a box of fragrant violets. To Norah Grant, who so loved her mother, it seemed no more than a fitting tribute from anyone who had been lucky enough to serve her. "I was down this way with my sister," he ex- plained, as he watched Norah, after the first excla- mation of pleasure over his gift, arranging the flowers in a bowl, "and I thought I would drop in THE LOSING GAIN 113 and see how you were feeling after your first day sitting up, Mrs. Grant." "Quite all right," assured Norah's mother, "thanks to you and my daughter. I feel sure it will be all right for Norah to go back to the office to- morrow, don't you, doctor?" and without waiting for a reply save for the grave nod of his head, she went on complacently: "Besides, if there is any need for anyone to be with me, there's my married daughter, Susan would come over, wouldn't she, Norah?" Norah's face was turned away from her mother as she answered, answered that the mother might know nothing of the self-interest of the daughter she trusted: "I'm sure she would, mama." "Then there isn't any reason you shouldn't make it all right," Dr. Rogers told them. "I'll run in twice a day for a time, er you leave early for work, Miss Grant, I take it?" turning to Norah who nodded and murmured : "About eight-thirty." "So," he continued, "I'll make my second visit about five- thirty or six." It was not Norah, though, but Mrs. Grant, the mother, with the all-seeing eyes, with the heart that hoped for the happiness of her own who saw any- thing in the timing of Dr. Rogers' visits. Then, though, it was only to hope, as she watched the beauty of her daughter, her glance then straying to the handsome young man whose eyes told her a half- guessed secret, quite hidden from the girl herself. CHAPTER XII THAT night was the beginning of a friendship that rarely exists between practitioner and patient. Mrs. Grant came to watch for the doctor's visits as she had never known herself to watch for anything before, outside of the homecom- ing of Norah. He seemed so to radiate cheerful- ness and sunshine. A half hour's talk with him was better for her than any nostrums. But a mother's eyes are never deceived. She saw, too, how he came to watch for the ring at the doorbell that heralded Norah's return, at such times as he came in before she did. Long before he thought anyone guessed his secret, Evelyn Grant could have told what lay in his heart. The nights when he stayed for an informal dinner, telephoning his sister not to wait for him, she came to look for- ward to. Norman Rogers was not the only one in the Grant home those evenings who held a hope. It is not the great things in life that require time In the telling. They grow so; happen so sud- denly, in spite of the thousand small things that lead up to them. So with the courtship of Dr. Norman Grant. In looking back he could not have itemized the facts that led to the big things, as he might have recounted, day by day, the doings of his college days, of his work in laboratory or hospital. He only knew that day had followed day, that sometimes he had taken the woman he loved for an automobile 114 THE LOSING GAIN 115 ride or to the theater, but that at last the time had come when he must speak. Norah Grant, herself, laughed at her mother when she intimated such a thing. Mrs. Grant had first broached the subject after the doctor had taken them to a musical comedy at the Columbia. "Did you enjoy it, dear?" she asked, as she started to hang her dress in the closet, the dainty black chiffon of which she was so proud and which Norah had insisted she should for once buy instead of mak- ing it for herself. "Indeed I did," was the enthusiastic response, as Norah paused in the nightly brushing of her hair. "Wasn't the music lovely?" Another pause while the brush moved rhythmically over the glossy black curls. Then there was a hint of plaintiveness in her voice as she went on: "Do you know, mama, I think I'll buy a piano this winter and start to practice again I think you know how I love it, and would you believe it, after all this time? I never go to a musical show or to a concert but I long for the feel of the keys under my fingers?" There was a queer little contraction of Evelyn Grant's heart. Just for the moment she was remem- bering those days, now so long ago, when she had had to make her choice, and it had been necessary for her to deny to this daughter the music she knew she loved so well. She did not look up from chang- ing her shoes to her mules as she answered. "I think you should do it, dear, but why don't you wait now until you have a home of your own and plenty of time to devote to your music or anything else you choose?" Norah turned to gaze at her with surprised eyes. 116 THE LOSING GAIN "A home of my own?" was the astonished reply. "Why, haven't I one?" Evelyn Grant reached her daughter's side before she answered. Her arm slipped tenderly about the girl's shoulders and she turned to her to look into her "eyes. "Norah, dear," she asked, "can't you see, 'don't you know that Dr. Rogers is in love with you?" For a moment Norah drew back, her eyes startled. "Why, no, mama !" as she shook her head till the curls flew about her shoulders. "You are mistaken, I'm sure of it! He likes us both very much, but as for being in love " "I've a mother's eyes, dear, I've been watch- ing I know, I can't understand why you haven't!" Norah's breath came quickly. "But you are mis- taken, mama, dear, I'm sure of it but," and the eyes widened, "wouldn't it be dreadful if he was!" "'Dreadful'?" Her mother looked at her in amazement. "The most wonderful thing in the world? Dr. Norman Rogers, handsome, wealthy, brilliant what more could any woman want?" "But, mama, you don't understand I've never thought of marrying anyone, it hasn't been among the things I've considered." "Don't be ridiculous, Norah!" For one of the few times in her life, Mrs. Grant was impatient with this brilliant daughter of hers. She spoke with asperity. "Just remember, please, that you're twenty-five years old, and that it's time you thought of settling down." Norah's smile was as indulgent as one might have given a child as she turned once more to her hair- THE LOSING GAIN 117 brushing task. "Settling down?" she repeated. I "didn't know I'd ever been particularly wild." Mrs. Grant even felt petulant as she climbed into bed and drew the covers up about her chin. "Oh, you know I didn't mean it that way," she said wearily, "of course you've never been wild Norah, don't forget the hot-water bag," she stopped to remind, "but you know well enough you can't go on this way the rest of your life! I won't be with you always, and think of the emptiness of the years ahead!" Norah finished the long plait of hair, flung it back over her shoulders, and slipped her arms into her nightdress before she answered. "This is all such futile talk, mama, isn't it?" she asked. "You're just as well as you ever were, you're going to live for years and years and we're going to do all the things we've planned and even if it were otherwise, which I refuse to think of, re- member I have my business career, my independence ! That's enough for any woman to think about!" "No it isn't!" In her earnestness, Mrs. Grant sat up in bed as she emphasized her remarks with a finger pointed at her daughter. "You may think so now, but there's a time coming when you'll realize that in a woman's life there's nothing to take the place of a husband and babies. You've made a suc- cess of business, Norah, I'm granting you that I am as proud of it as you you're earning a salary that most men would envy, but you still have to learn that it will take something more than a successful business career to make you happy." Norah was cool and nonchalant as she turned on 118 THE LOSING GAIN the night light. "I'm perfectly happy and contented now, mama," was what she said. "You mean you think you are!" Mrs. Grant laid down wearily. This unconvincible daughter of hers was beyond her. There seemed nothing she could say that could prove what she knew in her inmost soul. She lay passive while her daughter placed the hot-water bag at her feet. "There, now, mama, dear," said Norah, "all comfy? Sleep good let's forget all these mistaken notions." But that Mrs. Grant was not mistaken was proven but a day or so later when Dr. Rogers, on a hurried morning visit, took that occasion formally to ask her consent to his suit for her daughter's hand. Happy as she was at the prospect, though, she could not forget her daughter's ideas. "I'm afraid, though," she told him at parting, "that you'll find Norah a peculiar girl. She seems to have made up her mind never to marry." Dr. Rogers smiled complacently. "Perhaps love may induce her to change her mind," was what he said, as he held Mrs. Grant's hand in his own, the warm touch of his handclasp infusing new warmth into her own wearied blood. "I hope and pray she does," said the mother, fer- vently. On Sunday Dr. Rogers had planned to take Norah and her mother for a drive down the peninsula to meet his sister, whom circumstances so far had pre- cluded their meeting. Norah was looking forward to the trip with pleasure, all thought of the talk she had had with her mother a night or so before totally ;erased from her mind. She was not pleased, there- THE LOSING GAIN 119 fore, when her mother told her, when she arrived home early on Saturday that Susan had telephoned she would bring her family over the next day. "Why didn't you tell her we were invited out with Dr. Rogers, and ask her to come another time?" Norah asked, when her mother told her. "I'm sure you didn't have to stand on ceremony with Susy." "I know," was the answer, "but when she said she was bringing the boys, I sort of felt as if I wanted to see them. You go for the ride with Dr. Rogers and then bring him back for dinner. It will be nice to have him meet the family." "You can't possibly get dinner all alone for so many/mama. I'll stay and help you," she insisted. "I'm sure Dr. Rogers will excuse us." "You'll please me so much by going, dear. You're in the office all week, and you need a little recreation on Sunday. I'll tell you what I'll do if you'll go, I'll ask Mrs. Chase, next door, to come in and help me. She'd love to, she's all alone, too." Evelyn Grant was remembering some of her own courtship days as she turned aside her head to hide the smile of contentment on hearing Norah's half murmured agreement. What might not happen on this one trip when the two were alone when they were not hampered by the presence of even the in- nocuous third party that she had always been. One of California's perfect days! An azure sky; sunshine that warmed pleasantly, with just a touch of wine that made the blood rush more rapidly through the pulse; an exhilaration of ozone and mo- tion ; two alone in a sedan, speeding out through the park along the ocean; down Sloat Boulevard; turn- ing into the road that runs to San Mateo! 120 THE LOSING GAIN Dr. Rogers felt as he had not since the days in Stanford when the world was be-fore him, as he felt the warmth of Norah Grant's body beside him, smelled the perfume that aerated about her. In his happiness he was conscious of such small things, just as he had been conscious of the brooch Mrs. Grant had been wearing when she had bidden them good-by with the smile that he knew was one of encouragement, a brooch she had probably worn a hundred times, but he had never noticed; he remem- bered the blue cording in her dark gown. Such unusual things for a man to note at any time. Now, as the sedan whirled along the wide road, he saw things as through the greatest lens of a microscope. A blue sky, dropping down to the horizon, more sapphire than he had ever imagined it; a bent twig on a tree in a passing lot, trees should all be perfect, God meant them so, why then a bent one on this perfect day; the unlaced shoe of the boy who loped beside his slow moving car. And always, always, the glory of gold of the poppies in the fields they passed. As they drove by Ingle- side Terrace, Norah, too, could not fail to note them. The group after group of people who picked them; those passing who bore great bunches of the golden flowers. "How beautiful!" Norah exclaimed. "Wasn't it too bad mama couldn't come she loves them so." "We'll stop on the way back and get her a lot of them they are beautiful, aren't they?" He slowed the car as he spoke till it came to a stop beside a field of a cloth of gold. "They're all gold, as you are Norah," he said, dreamily, but before she could voice her surprise at the unexpected, he THE LOSING GAIN 121 hurried on: "You're all that to me, and more, Norah haven't you guessed it? Didn't you know why I was glad to have you alone with me to-day?" He was stammering like a schoolboy as he could not help but see the amazed, questioning light in the girl's deep eyes. He reached out to touch her hand gently, to press it with a reverential touch. "It may not be the place, or the time," he said slowly, "but I cannot go on with the words unsaid, Norah." He took the listless hand into his own warm, impassioned one. "Don't you know I love you? Haven't you guessed that some day, some time, at my first opportunity, I would ask you, as I am asking you now, to fye my wife?" CHAPTER XIII THE coatless old man who plodded unnoticed along the road, with the wilting bunch of yellow poppies in his work-hardened hand smiled as his eyes held a moment in passing on the motionless sedan and the two inside, unconscious of all about them, their eyes ostensibly on the poppy fields, their thoughts, as he knew, on each other. What thoughts brought back a youthful smile to those faded old eyes as he went on his way? Norah was the first to break the second-long silence. "I I'm sorry," she murmured, her hand which she had withdrawn from the unprotesting clasp of Dr. Rogers, nervously clasping and unclasping her hand bag. But not for long was he unprotesting. Once more he took hold of the hand and held it in a firm clasp. "Norah," he said, the deep note in his low-toned voice proving his earnestness, "it is hard for me to find words to tell you of my great love for you. I've dreamed of you so much, have thought till my brain ached, how to tell you, and now when I try oh I can't! Won't you just believe me when I tell you I'd do anything in the world to win you to make you care just a little! Can't you?" Norah's eyes were clear and candid as she looked him full in the face. "I do care for you very 122 THE LOSING GAIN 123 much," she told him. "I don't think there has ever been a friendship in my life that has given me such pleasure, but but " She hesitated as though searching for words in which to make her meaning clear, with a clearness that would not wound, "I I have made up my mind never to marry." Dr. Rogers was taken back by the very candid- ness of her. Inexperienced as he was, he could not quite understand this attitude which was so different from that of any woman of whom he had ever read, or heard. "But why?" he asked. "Why have you deter- mined upon such an unusual thing?" curiously. "Are you a man-hater?" "Indeed not! On the contrary, Fm an ardent admirer of clever, brilliant men. It's just because I glory in the thought of independence." "You mean because you're able to take such ex- cellent care of your mother? I promise you, Norah, that it will give me the greatest pleasure to provide for her." Norah's head shook slowly. A film came into the blue eyes. "Please don't think me ungrateful, Dr. Rogers," she begged. "I'm afraid it will be difficult for me to make you understand this, but I've worked since I was twelve years old and the greatest joy I ever knew was when my mother was able to depend on me for support. I've worked my way up, step by step, until now I am in a position to give her comforts. I feel certain that before long I can give her luxuries. I couldn't bear to think of either of us depending upon anyone." "But, my dear girl!" The man was argumenta- tive, though the furrow that came between his eyes 124 THE LOSING GAIN showed him not understanding. "Every woman depends upon her husband for support. It's the natural thing! The real cause for complaint is that many husbands are unable to support them." He laughed half-heartedly at his own attempt at humor. "Oh, I know," she answered. "Many women look upon life differently than I. They may be right, mama says I'm wrong to feel as I do, but I can't help it. All my life I've had a great ambition to succeed in the business world, and I won't allow anything to influence me against it." "Dear!" There was a wistful expression in his eyes as he spoke, "There is nothing in the world to take the place of love! If you would only give me a chance to win you, I'm sure I could convince you." "I realize that love is a wonderful thing," was her grave reply. "I've loved all my life, my mother, my sister, my brother " "But I'm so sure, Norah, that you are the sort of woman who would be capable of a great love " he began, pleading, but she burst out be- fore he could argue further. "Oh, I do wish I could care for you in that way, Dr. Rogers! I know it would make my mother so happy, she is so fond of you, but but I just can't!" "Do you care for anyone else?" he asked, as eagerly as though he were the first lover to voice the question. "In the light you mean, no !" She smiled as her head shook and her gaze wandered out to the poppy fields and beyond. "You see, I've never considered marriage at all." THE LOSING GAIN 125 "Well, then, I'm going to be patient." He was as cheerful as ever. "We can still be the same friends, can't we?" he asked. "Yes, indeed, I shall always want you to be my friend, Dr. Rogers," she smiled back at him. "Knowing you has made me very happy." His foot pressed the starter and the car shot ahead down the beautiful highway, the conversa- tion drifting into popular topics of the day, until they reached his beautiful old-fashioned home. Turning in at the driveway, they went the distance of an ordinary town block between an avenue of tall, shady trees, forming anarch, at the end of which they emerged and faceoT x the house. In the midst of a charming and quaint garden it stood, a two- storied shingled house, with its large, roomy veran- dah, its French doors and many-eyed windows. The slanting rays of the afternoon sun were beaming directly on the front door to send forth a golden welcome. "What a charming place!" Norah exclaimed, as she stepped out of the machine. "Just far enough from the highway, too, to make it ideal." "My sister takes great pride in these grounds," he replied. "It's hard to tell whether she or our gardener, Tom, does the most work. She spends hours out here every day, and what she doesn't know about shrubbery and flowers isn't worth knowing." Frances Rogers, attractive in her simple gown of Alice blue crepe, her soft hair parted in the middle and drawn into a knot at her neck, came down the steps to greet them. Her cheerful, hospitable welcome and the few well-chosen words did much to put at ease the girl who 126 THE LOSING GAIN was once more wishing for the presence of her mother. Frances served tea in the upstairs sitting room, a lovely sunny apartment at the back of the house, overlooking the small orchard and vegetable garden that were her special pride. As she lounged back in the comfortable chair Norman had drawn up for her, Norah looked about her admiringly. There was something about the gray wicker furniture and rose cretonne hangings that lent an irresistible charm to the room. The brightly burning logs in the old- fashioned fireplace threw out a warmth and a cozi- ness that was as manifest as the little dancing lights on the hearth. "Cream or lemon, Miss Grant?" Frances asked, as she poured the tea. "And how many sugars?" "Plain, if you please." "I see you want to taste the tea. Wait until you see Norman " "I know," laughed Norah, "plenty of cream and three lumps of sugar!" "I've trespassed on Mrs. Grant's hospitality so often," confessed Norman, "that it's no wonder Miss Grant knows my weakness." "Why, Dr. Rogers! Nothing gives mama more pleasure than to have you drop in informally for dinner. She never has a chance to prepare anything extra for you you're just like one of the family." Norah felt painfully the blush that suffused her face as she spoke, and she would have given much to have retracted the latter part of her speech, too late. "That's exactly the way I want to be treated, like one of the family," he said, eagerly. THE LOSING GAIN 127 Frances' quick glance at her brother told her woman-sister-mother's heart the truth. What she saw mirrored in his eyes acknowledged the truth of her suspicions and all but stopped that heart's beating for the moment she knew. What she had hoped for, yet had dreaded for years, had happened. Norman in love at last! And with this girl, Norah Grant, beautiful, refined and no doubt clever, but (she was ashamed of herself even while she had the thought) a mere nobody! He who could have had his choice among San Francisco's elite, or the peninsula's fashionable coterie! Instead, Fate had placed this girl in his path. Never, for an instant did it occur to her that Norah might refuse him. What girl in her right senses would decline such an honor. The wife of Dr. Norman Rogers, the very thought of it caused Frances unconsciously to lift her head a little higher. She began to wonder about what sort of an im- pression she was making. Above all else she wanted Norah to like her, for she had made lip her mind years before to open up her heart and arms to the girl who would become her brother's wife. "When we've finished tea, I'd like to take you through the house and grounds, Miss Grant," she offered, as she passed the tea biscuits and home- made marmalade. "None of the other rooms are as modern as this. You see we brought most of our furniture down from our home in San Francisco and father wouldn't allow us to dispose of it be- cause of the sentiment attached to it." "We had a very nice home in San Francisco on Steiner, near Geary, but had lived there only a year when mother died," Norman explained. "She and 128 THE LOSING GAIN father had selected all the furniture together and although a great deal of it was unsuitable for our house down here, it was father's wish to use it just the same, and since he is gone, Frances is more attached to the things than ever. This room was originally father's private study, and when we de- cided to turn it into a sitting room, we were obliged to refurnish it." "It is lovely," declared Norah, "but I know I shall adore the rest of the house, as I've always been interested in things that have been lived with and loved. Don't you think an old-fashioned home always spells 'welcome' in capital letters?" Frances led the way as they went from room to room, pausing now and then to explain in detail about a certain picture, an ornament or piece of furniture. The large living room with its high- backed velour upholstered pieces of mahogany; its gilded cabinet containing ornaments of carved ivory, satsuma and painted porcelain; its damask-covered walls, on which hung oil paintings, etchings and engravings. One went back at least twenty-five years as he looked about, and the baby grand Steinway piano could not help but attract attention amidst such surroundings. "I see you're looking at my piano," Frances smiled as she followed Norah's gaze. "It's a recent birthday present from my generous brother." "Oh, do you play, Miss Rogers?" Norah inquired eagerly. "I love music! Please let me hear you!" "I'm sorry I don't play at all. Years ago I was studying the violin, but when we lost mother I just gave up my lessons; consequently my practice.'* "You mean you gave up your lessons because it THE LOSING GAIN 129 took all your time to look after me," Norman in- terposed. "Frances has been a mother as well as a sister to me, Miss Grant." "Norman always makes so much of things," Frances announced simply, but there was the flush of pleasure that deepened on her face that was always there at any word of praise from her brother that did not escape the guest. She returned to the former subject. "Many of my friends play if I don't, and though Norman's voice is untrained it is excep- tionally good, so we have much pleasure from our piano." "How unkind of you not to have told me you sing, Dr. Rogers!" Nb^rah pretended to be quite peeved. "When you know how I enthuse over an opera, and the rapture I go into at a concert." "My dear young lady," he begged, as he bowed low, "do forgive me! My voice is a great secret. As I was the only rival of Caruso I must be care- ful not to boast of my powers." "Now, Norman," Frances was indignant, "I don't see why you should want to ridicule yourself like that. You have a splendid voice and you know it." "Don't pay any attention to her, Miss Grant." He was actually embarrassed. "She's overesti- mating me, as usual. Just because I sang tenor in a quartette at college she believes I have a knowledge of music." "Of one thing I am certain," and Norah laughed, "and that is that to your sister you are the per- sonification of perfection in everything." "Too bad someone else can't see me in the same light," he whispered, as they crossed the hall to 130 THE LOSING GAIN the library. As they went from room to room the simplicity and refinement of the old house appealed more and more strongly to Norah. But pleased as she was with the interior, it paled into insignificance beside the joy she felt at the beauty of the gardens. American Beauty roses, prize dahlias, and orchids were not there, but a quaint, eye-easing, soul-satisfying collection of old-fashioned posies dazzled and sent forth the fragrance that has soothed generations. Daisies, marigolds, morning glories, sweet peas, honeysuckle vines, lilac bushes, pansy beds, mignonette, geraniums, wild roses. Frances, her shears emphasizing her intentions as she cut, told them: "I'm going to send these back for your mother, Miss Grant. As long as she couldn't come to my garden, I'll follow in the foot- steps of Mohammed and send the garden to her." "How kind you are!" Norah exclaimed, grate- fully. "Mama loves flowers! She takes such good dare of them they last for days." On the way back to the house, Norman looked at his watch. "We won't have to start back for another hour," he suggested. "Shall we sit out on the verandah or go inside?" "Out here, by all means," Norah answered, as she reached the top step of the verandah. "It seems like paradise on a day like this." They were barely seated when a limousine came up the driveway and the chauffeur assisted three women to alight. "We were just driving by, so stopped on the chance of finding you at home." Mrs. Granville, THE LOSING GAIN 131 a gray-haired, aristocratic matron, talking as she came, preceded her daughter and niece up the steps. "How-do-you-do, Mrs. Granville," said Frances graciously. "I am so glad you did." Norman came forward to greet them, and Frances turned to Norah. "Let me present Miss Grant, Mrs. Granville Miss Granville, and Miss Moreland." Norah acknowledged the introductions grace- fully, proffering her seat to the elder woman. "Miss Grant?" Mrs. Granville questioned curi- ously. "Are you by any chance related to the Grants of Redwood City?" "No, Mrs. Granville^ I have no relations in America on my father's side. They are all in Scotland." "What part of Scotland?" Irene Moreland, the niece from Honolulu, drawled. "When we were abroad last year we found Scotland so interesting with its highland bonnie lassies." "When I was at Mills College," Florence Gran- ville announced, "I knew a Myrtle Grant. Her family lived in Sacramento, I believe." "When are you returning to Honolulu, or have you decided to spend the winter here, Miss More- land?" Norman thought it time to change the subject. "My aunt has persuaded me to remain here," was the somewhat bored answer. "The prospects, I am assured, are for a gay season, and I'm looking for- ward to an exciting time." "Do you live down this way, or are you from San Francisco, Miss Grant?" Mrs. Granville was not to be deferred; her curiosity had to be appeased. 132 THE LOSING GAIN "My home is in San Francisco," Norah answered cheerfully. "My mother and I have an apartment on Pine Street, near Jones." Might as well get it over with speedily, she thought. "Are you a golf enthusiast, Miss Grant?" Flor- ence asked. "I'm fairly crazy about it." "No, I know nothing at all about golf." "Well, you're missing a great deal. You'd better hurry up and learn! Do you play bridge?" "No, Miss Granville, I fear you will find me rather dull." Norah laughed. "I work from nine in the morning until after five every afternoon, and nearly all my evenings are given up to reading." Florence flushed as she commented: "How inter- esting!" but inwardly she felt that she was being laughed at, and it did not set well with this daughter of the haul monde, so much more used to homage. It was Frances who tactfully inveigled her guests into a discussion of fashions. A never-failing topic of interest! Would skirts be worn narrow or full; hair dressed high or low; or the prevailing shade be brown or gray? "I'm going to rescue you from this uninteresting discussion, Dr. Rogers." Irene Moreland jumped up and held out her hand. "I want you to take me for a stroll about these lovely grounds." "I must confess that I was enjoying it all im- mensely!" Norman was reluctant to go, but found it impossible to refuse. "Now, you're just trying to be nice, you know you are!" She linked her arm within his and started down the steps. "I know you'll excuse us," she remembered, turning to the others, "we won't be long." THE LOSING GAIN 133 As they disappeared around the side of the house, Mrs. Granville felt a word of apology necessary. "Irene is so impulsive," she deplored, with a lan- guid uplift of jeweled hands. "I hope you won't consider her forward, Miss Rogers. She always does the unconventional thing." "Perhaps you and Florence would like to see the garden also," Frances suggested. She sensed that Norman had been dragged away against his will, and she did not relish that. "Miss Grant," she added, "has been through it once, but I don't think she will object to going again. Will you?" "I much prefer sitting here," Mrs. Granville answered before Norah had a chance to speak. "I detest walking." "If you would walk a little you might lose some of your fat," Florence commented. "That's why I've been after you to take up golf." "I can't understand why you persist in calling me fat!" Mrs. Granville was indignant. "I may be a little overweight, but no one could call me fat. I'll ask Dr. Rogers, why, here they are now, they didn't do much walking." "What will you ask Dr. Rogers?" Norman queried as he and Irene came up the steps. "I just heard my name mentioned." "I'll ask you some other time," answered the matron quickly, "in the privacy of your office. You couldn't have seen much of the garden, Irene," she broke off. "Dr. Rogers discovered that it was time for him to drive Miss Grant back to the city," she pouted, with difficulty hiding her vexation. "So we had to postpone our walk for another time." 134 THE LOSING GAIN "Yes, Miss Grant, I'm sorry to tear you away, but if we're to reach your home in time for dinner, we'll have to start." He turned as he reached the door. "I'm going after my overcoat." Norah glanced at her wrist-watch. She wondered why he was in such a hurry, as they could have re- mained a half hour longer, easily. But she rose obediently and began to bid each one farewell. Frances went with her to the car, while Norman lingered for a word with their guests. "Do come again soon, Miss Grant," she begged heartily. "I have so enjoyed meeting you. I see Norman hasn't forgotten the flowers for your mother " "Thank you, Miss Rogers." She took the large bouquet from Norman as he seated himself beside her. "I have spent a delightful afternoon, and," she added impulsively for her, as her gloved hand rested a moment in that of her hostess, "it hasn't seemed like meeting a stranger your brother has told me so much " The warm pressure of Frances' fingers thanked her. As Norah and the doctor drove through the gate, he spoke suddenly, and, for him, savagely: "I hope you'll forgive me for dragging you away so much earlier than necessary, Norah, but I couldn't stand that human ukelele another minute." CHAPTER XIV DR. ROGERS' sedan had scarcely turned out of the driveway before Mrs. Granville, un- able to control her curiosity another moment, turned to Frances. "Is Miss Grant an old friend of yours, Miss Rogers?" she asked. "I've never heard you mention her?" "Miss Grant's mother is a patient of my brother's." To Frances the truth always seemed best. "Don't you think she is a beautiful girl?" "Beautiful!" Mrs. Granville was amazed. "Why, I think she's positively plain, and as long as she is not a particular friend of yours, I don't mind adding that her style is atrocious." "Why, mother, I don't agree with you at all!" Florence never hesitated about saying what she thought or meant. "I think Miss Grant is very attractive, and I rather admire her simple, tailored clothes." She fluffed out her own ruffles, though, with a complaisance that intimated satisfaction with her own style. "Well, Aunt Ida," Irene came to the rescue, "I agree with you. She's not at all pretty, and one can easily see her clothes are homemade." "I don't think this is very kind!" A slow, red flush suffused Frances' usually placid features, and a peculiar light flashed from her brown eyes, as she remonstrated. "If you don't agree with me about 135 136 THE LOSING GAIN Miss Grant's looks I can't prevent you from ex- pressing your opinions, but to discuss her clothes and ridicule them seems to me very poor taste." "Bravo, Miss Rogers!" Florence clapped her hands. "Irene is peeved because your brother was particularly attentive to Miss Grant. You sec, she is generally the center of attraction when there arc any men about, and she can't understand being slighted." Irene could hardly control herself, as she half sputtered: "If you wish to accuse me of jealousy, as your words seem to imply, at least do me the honor to assume I should not envy a shop girl." "Miss Moreland! Just a moment " Although she was palely calm, Frances Rogers felt as though she would like to shake this insolent young person. "Miss Grant is not a shop girl, but even if she were, she would still be a lady. I know many shop girls who could give our so-called ladies lessons in de- portment. Miss Grant, however, is private secre- tary and general manager in the office of Daniel Thorne, you know him, I'm sure, Mrs. Granville," turning her glance in the direction of the older woman whose nod gave assent. "She occupies a position in San Francisco that not only any girl, but many a man, might well envy." "I'm afraid I started all this discussion," Mrs. Granville felt called upon to remark, with an air of contrition, "but I must admit that after Miss Grant said she worked every day I was just a bit curious as to her exact occupation." "You're always a bit curious about everything, aren't you, mother?" Florence laughed as she rose and stretched herself lazily. "We'd better be go- THE LOSING GAIN 1ST ing, or this ridiculous argument will forfeit us our welcome." "Oh, no, Miss Granville! I hope I haven't been rude " Frances hastened to redeem her- self as hostess. "The only rude person around here is Florence," Irene pouted again, as she, too, rose from her chair lazily, with all the langour she believed should accompany her heralding as a daughter of a tropical island. "That's the way those girls go on all day, Miss Rogers. I don't know what I'll do with them all winter," Mrs. Granville explained, as she prepared to depart. "Maybe I'd better return to Honolulu, Aunt Ida Florence doesn't seem to want me here." Irene was close to tears. "You're a big baby!" Impulsively Florence threw her arms about her cousin. "And I'm a big tease! Come on we'll pay another call down the road, and I'll introduce you to the nicest boy in the world. That ought to make you forgive me." "As if anyone could remain angry with you, Florence!" Irene responded sweetly. "Good-by, Miss Rogers but I must admit that even though I, for one, do not consider your friend, Miss Grant, either beautiful or attractive, she evidently possesses some sort of irresistible charm to have caused all this argument." When her guests had departed, Frances went slowly indoors and upstairs to her own room. On either side of the black walnut four poster bed hung the pictures of her father and mother. She stood 138 THE LOSING GAIN for a few moments and gazed at them steadily; then she seated herself in a low rocker beside the window to think of Norman. She had had the entire care of him since he was ten years old, and she would willingly have sacrificed herself, or anyone else, where his happiness was concerned. That night she would question him about this girl. She had seen the lovelight in his eyes, but not in Norah's. Norah and Norman arrived at the apartment at six o'clock. Dinner was ready, and Susan, who had come over with her family at four, had set the table and helped her mother and Mrs. Chase with the final touches. "I wish I had known you intended having Dr. Rogers for dinner," Susan fussed and fumed all the time she was arranging the table. "I'd have brought over my things and tried to put a little style to this table. We could have put a whole box of things in the back of the car." "Why didn't you 'phone, ma, and tell us about it?" Jack looked up from the sporting pages of the Examiner to inquire. "Why, I don't see what there was to tell," Mrs. Grant answered quietly. "Dr. Rogers has had dinner with us many times, and we never have any- thing different." "That's just it, mama, you and Norah are so terribly out of date!" Susan stopped in the midst of distributing butter balls at each place to put in her plaint. "Why don't you try to make a hit with Dr. Rogers? He's used to going in the best society, and I always did kick at this awful dinner set," she complained, as she picked up one of the plain white plates with its narrow gold band. "Didn't I THE LOSING GAIN 139 beg Norah to get one with blue birds or pink roses, like mine?" "You know Norah's tastes are simple, Susy." " 'Simple' ! I'll say they are!" Jack laughed bois- terously. "Why don't she take a few lessons in style from my wife? Do you know, ma, we had six people for dinner last Wednesday night and it would have made you proud to have seen the way Susy decorated the dining room and the table." "And I could have brought over all those decora- tions and used them here, if I had only known it," Susan sighed. "The beauty of it was," Jack went on, proudly enthusiastic, "it cost so little. She used yellow crepe paper and hung it in strips leading from the electric dome over the table to the corners of the room. The tablecloth and napkins were yellow paper over the white cloth, and the flowers were big bunches of yellow poppies the kids gathered in the Piedmont hills. It certainly was pretty! Everyone admired it, and thought we had a decorator." "But, my dear Jack " Mrs. Grant was bewildered, "I can't imagine all those yellow decorations against the bright red walls of your dining room!" "You'd have been surprised, mama," Susan put in. "It was beautiful. Don't pay any attention to what anyone tells you about colors clashing and all that. I like to be different, anyhow, and set a style of my own." "When it comes to style you have to go a long way to beat my wife," admired proud Jack. "Say, that table looks like the dickens without any flowers on it. Is there a florist around here?" 140 THE LOSING GAIN "There's one on Sutter Street, about two blocks from here, but I don't believe they're open on Sun- day. Don't bother, Jack," advised Mrs. Grant, pulling down the shades. "Oh, here's Norah and Dr. Rogers now, and Norah has her arms full of flowers." After introducing Norman to Susy, Jack and the boys, Norah excused herself for a moment to tidy up a bit, while Mrs. Grant arranged some of the flowers in a large bowl and placed them in the center of the table. Norman made himself particularly agreeable to Norah's family, talking automobiles with Jack, society with Susan, and baseball with the boys. Before they were half through with dinner, Jack was calling him "Doc," telling him jokes and acting as though he had known him all his life. At first Norah had felt inclined to feel embarrassed and ashamed, but she quickly banished the thought and inwardly chided herself for her disloyalty. What if Jack was a little uncouth, and rather loud? Sup- pose Susan's grammar was atrocious at times, and she tried to impress upon everyone that she was a real sport? Or if Robert and Junior joined in the conversation and answered back impertinently when they were spoken to, and their father and mother laughed and said they were too cute for anything? What of it all? Weren't they still her very own? She never would b'e ashamed of them, no matter what they did. Just as they were starting the dessert, one of Mrs. Grant's famous shortcakes, a telephone call came for Dr. Rogers. He had been expecting it, and had left word where to find him. THE LOSING GAIN 141 "Can't you even finish your dinner, doctor?" Mrs. Grant begged, starting to pour his coffee. "I'm afraid not, Mrs. Grant. I know this call is important; but if I'm not kept too long I promise to come back for my dessert and coffee." "I wish I was a doctor," Robert announced sud- denly. "Why, Robert?" Dr. Rogers smiled as he but- toned his overcoat. ' 'Cause then I could jump up and leave the table whenever I wanted to, and daddy wouldn't yell at me to come back!" Under cover of the laugh, Jack glowed, as he murmured: "Devilish bright kid, that boy is!" "He's a fine fellow all right!" Jack was the first to express his opinion after the doctor had gone. "A regular guy if he is a doctor." "He's handsome; and as jolly as he can be!" Susan contributed her bit. "He'd make a dandy brother-in-law, and we could save a lot of money by having a doctor in the family." "Susan," Mrs. Grant shook her head, warningly, "you are so tactless." "That's all right, mama, I don't mind Susy." Norah smiled, but her face turned serious as she glanced about at the family party, and invited: "I have something to tell you all, if Jack will send the boys into the other room for a few minutes." "Here, you, kids, hustle into the other room and read the funny paper," Jack commanded. "We read it this morning," Robert began to argue, "and I don't want to go in the other room. I want to hear Aunt Norah tell a story. "Aunt Norah' s not going to tell a story now, 14* THE LOSING GAIN darling." Norah put her arm about him and kissed him. "You run into my room and you'll find some candy in a box on the bureau. You may have two pieces !" "Righto ! Come on, Junior, Aunt Norah says we can have two pieces of her candy " They were in the hall, clattering toward the bed- room as Norah closed the door after them and turned to her people. "I wanted to tell you," she started slowly, "that Dr. Rogers, this afternoon, asked me to marry him " "Oh, you darling!" Susan ran over and kissed her effusively. "You lucky girl!" "Congratulations, Norah!" Jack put aside his cigar and grasped her hand. "Too bad you didn't tell us while he was here." Mrs. Grant, her face wreathed in smiles, opened her mouth to speak, but Norah hurried on before she had a chance. "I refused Dr. Rogers." The words were a bombshell cast among them. "You you what!" shrieked Jack, the first to find breath. "You heard me, Jack," replied his sister-in-law calmly. "I declined the honor of becoming Dr. Rogers' wife." "Well, you must be crazy! What are you waiting for?" Susan, too, found her voice at last. "Mama," she entreated, "why don't you say something? Do you hear! She refused him!" "What is there to say, Susy?" Mrs. Grant asked, saoly. "Norah knows her own mind." THE LOSING GAIN 145 "Mind!" Jack laughed contemptuously. "If you ask me, I don't believe she's got any mind!" "You're twenty-five years old, Norah Grant, and this is the first proposal you ever had! I'm pretty sure of that!" Susan was getting more excited every minute. "He's everything a girl could wish for, handsome, rich, and a real gentleman, and you have the nerve to refuse him! Serves you right if you never have another offer as long as you lirct" In spite of the fact that she was growing angry momentarily, Norah laughed. "You would consider that a great tragedy, wouldn't you, Susan?" she asked. "Norah," the mother ventured quite gently, "really, dear, I, myself, don't think you could eve/ do any better." "Mama ! I want you, and Susan and Jacfc, all to listen to me." As the girl had listened to the freely expressed opinions on her sanity and reliability, Norah's face had paled to a waxen whiteness. Even the lips through which the words came were bloodless, but her voice was steady as she faced them, these people who were her own; in all the world, her mis- understanding own. "This is not, nor ever has been a question of doing better," she told them quietly. "I like and admire Dr. Rogers more than any man I know, but I'm not in love with him ; I'm not in love with any man. The thing is simply this, and you might as well under- stand it right now! I never intend to marry any- one!" "So that's the idea !" Susan threw down the napkin with which she had been toying, impatiently. "All 144 THE LOSING GAIN that old nonsense over again about being an old maid and independent and what not? I knew you were always rather dippy on that subject when you were young, but I thought as you grew older you would see how silly it was." "If you mean it's silly to work your way up in the world until you hold a position such as mine, and draw the salary I'm getting, I can't agree with you." Norah tried hard not to appear egotistical, but she felt she had a right to assert herself. "That part is all right, Norah," Jack attempted to pacify her. "You deserve all kinds of credit for advancing as you have, but it's got to end some time. You're twenty-five, now. It can't go on for- ever " "What can't go on forever?" she asked calmly. "Your working and remaining single." "I've only just begun my work. I intend to go on and on until I achieve the biggest possible things." Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, a glowing fire that those who listened could not comprehend. "I shall never give up my independence." ''Independence!' Fiddlesticks! Come on, Susy, get on your things I'm not going to have you listen to such nonsense. I'll attend to the boys." He started toward the other room. "Oh, you needn't worry about me, Jack," Susan laughed, "I never was like Norah; my mind was made up to have a husband when I was fourteen." "I'm sorry to see you all so disappointed," Norah apologized, "but you must remember that my life is my own, and I have a right to live it as I please." There was a ring of determination in her voice that was not to be misunderstood. THE LOSING GAIN 145 "I suppose you're right, Norah " Susan was adjusting her veil, but she stopped with a pin in her mouth to speak her mind. "If you choose to make a fool of yourself it's nobody's business but your own. Good-by, mama; we had a lovely dinner. I'll be over Wednesday." But as she kissed her mother, she whispered in her ear: "See if you can't make her change her mind." "Say, ma, can I see you alone for a moment?" Jack beckoned to Mrs. Grant. "Start ahead with the boys, Susy," he ordered in husbandly fashion, " I'll follow right away." Norah went to the door with Susan, an arm about each of her nephews, as Mrs. Grant followed her son-in-law into the living room. "It's about Norah, I suppose, Jack?" she queried uneasily. "Of course! You know, ma, Norah will do any- thing for you, and you should insist upon her marry- ing Dr. Rogers." "But you heard what she said about marrying her mind's made up." "A woman's mind can always be changed," he chuckled, "and it's your duty to see she doesn't throw away the chance of a lifetime. It's all right, while she has you, but what will become of her if any- thing should happen to you? She'd never be con- tented with Susy and me; we're not refined enough for her. And I know she wouldn't think of going to her brother, so she would be absolutely alone." "I've thought of all that, Jack, but what can I 'do?" "Well, don't let her get by so easy; just keep talk- ing this thing up all the time, like I do when I'm try- 146 THE LOSING GAIN ing to sell an automobile. Sometimes they buy it just to get rid of me." "But I don't like to nag Norah. She's such a wonderful daughter." "Just bear in mind, ma, that whatever you do is for her own good. Remember that now, and good- night, Susy will be waiting for me." With a re- sounding smack he kissed her and hurried out, calling back a hasty farewell to Norah. Yet not a word passed between mother and daughter as they cleared the table and did the dishes. Dr. Rogers telephoned just as they were finished to say he would be detained all evening and regretted he would not be able to return for his dessert. He would, however, come to-morrow evening, if they would have him. "Come, by all means," Norah was compelled to answer. "Will the doctor be able to return?" her mother, glad of an opportunity to re-open the subject, asked as Norah came into the dining room. "No, he said he would be detained too late. But he will come for dinner to-morrow evening." "Do you know, Norah, I've only known Dr. Rogers a short time, and yet I couldn't think more of him if I had known him all my life." "Yes, dear," Norah answered, quietly. "He is yery kind." "It is wonderful to think that he could love my little girl. I could die happy if I knew I left you in his care." "Mama, dear!" Norah knelt beside her chair. "Don't you remember how you and I talked this all THE LOSING GAIN 147 over before, when I told you I thought you were mis- taken in thinking Dr. Rogers cared for me?" "Yes, dear, I remember, and you see I was not mistaken. I think you should know by now that your mother is right in most things, at least where they concern her dear ones, and don't you think you ought to listen to her?" "Mama, feeling as I do about Dr. Rogers, just liking and respecting him, but not loving him, do you think it would be right for me to marry him?" Norah put the question bluntly. "My I I " Mrs. Grant was confused. "I hardly know how to answer you. Liking and re- specting are the next thing^ to love; that would, no doubt, come later." "And if it didn't? Just think what that would mean ! No, mama, even if I were willing to give up my independence, I couldn't marry a man I didn't love." "Perhaps you are right, Norah." Mrs. Grant Hecided to let the matter rest, at least for the present. A little diplomacy could do no harm. When Susan came over on Wednesday, Mrs. Grant cautioned: "You can't treat Norah as you would a disobedient child. The thing to do is to let her alone and give her an opportunity to realize for herself what a fine man Dr. Rogers is." "Then she hasn't stopped seeing him, or anything like that?" Susan asked, surprised. "No, indeed ! He came in for dinner Monday night and stayed till nearly ten o'clock, when he was called to a patient. Yesterday he sent her a five pound box of candy and three new books." 148 THE LOSING GAIN "Well, at least that don't look as if he'd lost interest or minded a little thing like a refusal," Susan laughed. "Jack will be tickled to hear this. He was dreadfully put out with Norah and all her ideas about being independent. He says she's get- ting to be a fanatic on the subject, whatever that means." For the next few months not one of the family mentioned marriage to Norah. She went about continually with Dr. Rogers, but she saw to it that her mother nearly always accompanied them. She had visited Frances Rogers a number of times, and Frances had come in one Saturday to have luncheon with her and go to the matinee. A warm friendship was springing up between them, and if she had failed to recognize any of Norman's splendid quali- ties, his sister had soon enlightened her. More and more she was compelled to admit to herself her liking for him. But not till one day, and always there must come such a day, that day that came when Norah Grant believed Norman Rogers had been taken from her forever; that day there came, with the suddenness, the numbing of a Jovian bolt, the knowledge She Loved Him ! CHAPTER XV THE fact that all emotions are so interwoven as to be relative one with the other is not a new discovery. The newness lies with the recur- rent discovery with each individual. And to each individual, year in, year out, as has been the case year in, and year out since the beginning of time, comes the new wonder that fear and love, hate and sympathy, anger and benevolence, all feelings, are brought about one by the other. So with Norah Grant. Ever after it was a matter of wonder to her that it should have been tragedy, or something nearly resembling it, that woke her to the fact that it was not a disinterested friendly feel- ing merely that she held for Dr. Norman Rogers, but a love overwhelming that overtopped anything she had ever known in her life. As in every case, it was brought home to her in as unexpected as tragic a manner. It was late one Saturday evening, seeming later than it was from the early dusk that had fallen with an accompanying lowering sky and a fog that rolled in from the bay when Norah, lighting the rosy-hued floor lamp, turned to answer the quick ring at the bell. Her eyes lighted with pleasure as Dr. Norman Rogers stood there. u just took a chance you might be here," he laughed, breezily. "I was afraid you wouldn't be, for I heard you say last night that you would meet 149 150 THE LOSING GAIN your mother at four and go with her to select a coat." "And naturally you thought when women go to select coats," she suggested with a laugh in return, "it would take a great deal longer than an hour." "Well, I've known Frances to start out on Mon- day to buy something, and when I've asked her about it on Saturday, she has told me she hadn't been able to find a thing to her liking." "Sometimes things are hard to find," explained the girl as she offered him the box of bonbons he had brought her and which she hastily opened. "But to- day, we were fortunate. I met mama at four at the White House, and by four-thirty she had selected her coat, had it fitted for the few necessary altera- tions, and were ready to come home. We even stopped for an ice cream soda at Maskey's." "Seems like a record to me," he nodded, as he re- fused the chair she pushed forward. "No, I haven't time. I'm on my way to see a patient out near the park and I thought you and your mother might like to take the ride with me. I'll only be there a few minutes, and then we can drive on out to the Cliff House for dinner." Norah turned to her mother inquiringly, as the older woman came into the room to greet their guest. "I'm terribly sorry," Mrs. Grant told him, regret- fully, "but I don't believe I can go. I promised Mrs. Williams to show her that new embroidery stitch to- night, and I wouldn't disappoint her for anything, she's been so kind and attentive to me." "Show it to her to-morrow," Norman suggested. "Her husband is out of town, but he is coming back to-morrow, so her time will be taken up with THE LOSING GAIN 151 him. No, I'll go in to see her, after I've had my tea, and you and Norah go on out and enjoy the evening." "I'd much rather have you come, mama. I'll ask Mrs. Williams to excuse you." Perhaps Dr. Rogers may have guessed the impel- ling reason for the decided negative of the mother of the girl he loved, but he no longer urged when she again shook her head. "I wouldn't think of such a thing. Just go ahead, another time for me. Don't forget your heavy coat, Norah, and don't forget that fog coming in from the bay." As Norah, cozily seated beside Dr. Rogers, snugly buttoned in her ulster, anct her companion drove out Pine Street, it began to rain, a slow, dull misty fall that seemed only the final effort of the fog-laden atmosphere to turn to complete saturation. When they reached Van Ness the avenue was a sheet of glass. "Nasty drizzle and fog," commented the doctor, as his hand went up to clear the wind shield. "Been this way every evening this week, but don't be nervous, I'll drive slowly." Norah snuggled down more comfortably. "I'm never nervous," she assured him. "And as for the fog, I love it. Somehow fogs seem tonic to me." How often is the comment repeated concerning the small things that are impressed on the human mind immediately before or after a vital event, im- pressions subconsciously recorded that are ever after to be remembered. Moving along at the moderate rate they were, Norah saw the passing people. She remembered the delivery wagon that passed, the boy 152 THE LOSING GAIN who drove it, with one hand holding his flapping coat; the lights of a car far down the street; the winking tail light of a car that hastened on ahead of them leaving its shining ribbon on the mirrored sur- face of the asphalt; the woman with her arms full of bundles, and the three-year-old child clinging to her skirts who peered anxiously for the car for which she waited. All these things, equally subconsciously recorded, and apparently of equally as little interest in the lives of the two inside the sedan. And yet There was no accounting for the action of the child. No one was ever to know what impulse of a sudden actuated her small brain. But whatever it was, she acted upon it, suddenly, with tragic conse- quences, for when her hands so quickly dropped from her mother's skirts as the car loomed up, and she dashed with lightning speed into the middle of the street, straight in front of the oncoming automobile, her action might have been guided by Fate, herself, for the consequence it had upon the heart and life of Norah Grant. In the thick mist, neither Norah nor Dr. Grant saw the child's action until they were almost upon her. With a wild scream, Norah started up as though by that movement she could fling the child to safety, but her scream was no more sudden than that of the frightened mother who darted out after her offspring. Passersby shrieked, too, as they saw what seemed to be inevitable tragedy, and either stood stock still or rushed forward, as their various impulses suggested. But Dr. Norman Rogers did not scream. He was used to thinking quickly. More than one life had hung in the balance waiting THE LOSING GAIN 153 his quick decision. And he acted now. He must turn his car about. Must ! There was nothing else to do. The brakes shrieked a second under the force of his foot impact. There was a terrific jolt as he swung into reverse. To Norah Grant, it was like a nightmare, a lifetime of horror lived within the time of winking an eye. She remembered the terrible sensation of revolv- ing, one, two, three times as the car skidded on the slippery asphalt. Groans of horror rose all about her from the watchers as the juggernaut the car seemed to be, missed the street car by the fraction of an inch. Then, the end! Or so it appeared at the moment. Norah shut her eyes unconsciously as the crash came. The whole world was spinning around in that haze of fog. She was hardly conscious of the impact as the sedan crashed into the electric light pole on the other side of the street and turned over. All that she really remembered was the frightened scream of a little child, rising high above the other sounds, the cry of the unhurt baby. For the first minute or so she did not realize what had happened, did not know that the car had turned over completely in its final struggle and that she and Dr. Rogers were pinned beneath it. She was dazed, stunned; for a moment she must have lost consciousness. Then she felt hands, hundreds of them it seemed, reaching out to help pull her from the wreckage. She felt herself trying to call out to them that she was unhurt, but curiously enough, she knew that she was making no sound. She was not even thinking of herself or of Dr. Rogers in those first moments. A still dazed brain was functioning only to inquire into an utterly irrelevant matter. 154 THE LOSING GAIN Why was it, was the bewildered thought, that no matter how deserted a street might seem to be, just let something happen and a crowd would always spring up from nowhere. Where, for instance, had all these people come from, out in the wet street that she so distinctly remembered was all but deserted but a moment before, she knew it, because she recalled the impression of the few people she had seen. Then, she knew she was out; knew she was unin- jured. She was still dazedly regarding herself to make sure of the wonder of it. The street full of people seemed all to be talking at once. It was moments before she could make out what they were saying, could pick out known coherent remarks from the babel. Then she heard one voice above the rest. "Damn' fool women !" she heard a big blustering red-faced fellow exclaim vociferously. "Why don't they hang on to their kids ! Lettin' 'em shoot out from everywhere and expect other people to risk their lives to save 'em!" "Bravest thing I ever saw," a shabby young fellow with a dinner pail under his arm explained his opinion to a group of excited women who were all querying at once. "I was standing on the front of the car next to the motorman when this youngster dashes madly out into the street. I thought she was making straight for the car tracks when I spied the automobile. The way this fellow turns his wheel so's not to run down the kid, at the risk of his own life, was wonderful! Why, if he'd gone right ahead, he wouldn't have had a scratch and every wit- ness would have sworn it was the child's own fault." "Has anyone been killed?" A fleshy, middle-aged THE LOSING GAIN 155 woman elbowed her way through the crowd, and in- sistently grasped the arm of the policeman who was trying to force back the crowds. "Stand back, madam!" he commanded. "Can't you see they're trying to lift a man from under that car?" "Is he dead?" "I'm not here to answer your questions back, I tell you!" None too gently he thrust forth his arm. "Women's curiosity makes me sick!" he growled, 'disgustedly. "They can't curb it even in the face of death!" Death! The word brought No rah to herself with the force of an electric shock. Someone had brought out a chair from an apartment house and placed her, un- protesting, in it. But at the sound of that word a cry of horror escaped her as she sprang forward from the friendly hands that sought to detain her. "I don't think you're hurt at all," a woman told her, kindly, grasping her arm in an effort to force her back into her chair. "I I know! I'm all right perfectly all right, but I must go to him ! Is he is he " The choking in her throat made her query all but in- coherent. "Is lie your husband?" another woman was asking. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be all right as soon as they get him out." "But I heard someone mention death!" Norah's words came hysterically, as she passed the question about her husband unheeding. But they could not hold her back. One by one they drew aside in realization of her right to pre- 156 THE LOSING GAIN cedence over the merely curious. Even the brusque officer was gentle as he took her arm to aid her, to assure: "He's all right, ma'am! They've got him out, and he's coming around." She seemed not to breathe, though, until after what seemed an eternity, she heard Norman Rogers speak. "I'm not badly hurt, Norah," he assured, weakly, half whisperingly, smiling bravely up at her as she knelt beside him. "Just cut up and bruised a bit." "Thank God!" was her fervent murmur. An hour later, she sat beside his bed in the St. Francis Hospital where he lay, white and still, his head and face swathed in bandages. Reaching out, he grasped her hand and held it tightly. "I'm so grateful, dear," he murmured, "to know that you were not hurt. If I had stopped long enough to consider that you were beside me, I should never have acted as I did." "Oh, you were wonderful!" she whispered, with a light of pride in the eyes, tender with the newly discovered emotion that the hour had brought. "I'm so proud of you! So proud! Everyone says it was an unheard-of miracle that I escaped without a scratch. Outside of a tiny bruise on my right knee and the disreputable condition of my clothes, you'd never know I'd been in an accident." "My dear! My dear! Nothing matters so long as you are safe!" he told her, as his eyes closed, dreamily. In a moment he had dropped into a quiet slumber. With her hand clasped in his, sitting in that small white room at the hospital, Norah tried to remember just when, for the first time, she had realized how THE LOSING GAIN 157 much she cared for him. It was when somebody asked if he were dead? That must have been the time, when she thought that nevermore would she see the lovelight in his eyes; nevermore would she bask in the sunshine of his wonderful smile, or hear the kind gentleness of his voice. Oh, how dark and void everything had suddenly become to her then! How empty and useless life seemed ! In this mo- ment, with love flooding her entire being, she could have cried aloud for the joy of her glorious dis- covery. She completely forgot the stand she had taken against marriage; against giving up her inde- pendence. How right he had been that day he asked her to become his wife! There was nothing in the world to take the place of love ! It was nearly a month before Norman was able to be up and about again. Norah spent every spare minute of her time at his side. She was happier than she had ever imagined any woman could .be, though she kept the secret of her love buried deep within the recesses of her heart After that first reckless ex- penditure of thought over the miracle of love, she had calmed down. Norman Rogers should not know how much she really cared for him, and she would not marry him, unless (happy thought) he were willing that she should maintain her position of in- dependence. There came one day an opportunity to test him, to discover his real views on the subject without making it evident that she was questioning him with any thought of herself in mind. A niece of Mrs. Williams, Agnes Chartress, who came down from Stockton to spend a few days with her aunt and incidentally to do a little shopping, 158 THE LOSING GAIN prior to her marriage to a young clerk of that city, was the unconscious means to the end. Agnes, a charming and interesting girl two years younger than Norah, formed a strong attachment for the daughter of her aunt's neighbor. As much as possible during her short stay in the city, Agnes was with Norah. On the day that Miss Chartress returned to Stock- ton, Norman invited Norah to have dinner with him at Solari's. Norah's new friend, as was the case with all of Norah's interests, of course, came up for discussion. "I'm so sorry she doesn't live here. I took such a fancy to her, and now I may not see her again for ever so long," Norah confided, regretfully. "Maybe they'll come down for their honeymoon. Or are they keeping their destination a secret?" he smiled. "No, they're going to Byron Springs. It's much nearer, and besides, they intend remaining away only a few days." "Where did you say Miss Chartress had been working?" "She still is working for a firm of architects. You know she intends keeping her position just the same." She watched him closely to detect the effect of her news. "Oh!" His brows knitted slightly. "How does her husband, or I should say her husband-to-be, feel about that?" "I understand it was an agreement between them as soon as they became engaged." "If he isn't able to support a wife, it seems to me he shouldn't marry." Norman spoke with decision. "Oh, it isn't a question of support," Norah in- THE LOSING GAIN 159 formed nonchalantly. "It's simply that Agnes doesn't care to depend on anyone." "Now I see why you developed this great admira- tion and liking for her," Norman laughed, indul- gently. "She believes as you do in all this silly er er foolish I beg your pardon " He tried to control his laughter as he caught the ex- pression of Norah's face. He had never seen her angry before, but now he knew, even as he halted his uncompleted sentence that he, who would not have hurt her for the world, had unthinkingly aroused that unlovely emotion. "Are you daring to ridicule me, Norman Rogers?" She spoke sharply, but his keen professional eyes caught the glint of tears back in the depths of the blue. "I'm sorry, Norah, honestly I am, but," and he gazed at her admiringly, "maybe it was worth it after all. You're beautiful, dear, when you're angry. I never saw such exquisite coloring, such " "If you say another word, I'll I'll leave the table! You must think I'm a little simpleton, try- ing to pacify me with compliments! Oh, how can you be so mean!" "I didn't mean to hurt you, dear." He turned to serenity. "But you shouldn't have brought the subject up. You know perfectly well how I feel about it." "That's just it, what right have you to feel that way? Why can't a woman have opinions of her own, and make her life to suit herself? Just because she's married, is that any reason she shouldn't keep occupied and work?" "I quite agree with you, Norah. Every married 160 THE LOSING GAIN woman should keep occupied and work, but the right kind of work. What greater occupation is there than that of being a good wife and mother? The noblest work in the world is the building up of a home, of children's careers, of husbands' fu- tures! That's where the real work of the married woman lies, and if women would only enter into it with the same zest and spirit with which so many of them enter into a business career, what a lot of unhappiness would be spared." "Well, suppose " There was a genuine, if reluctant admiration in the way she looked at him; he was so ardent; so sincere she could not help but melt a little. "Suppose a couple decided to marry and the man was not earning as much as it required for them to get along, and if the girl was anxious to work with him, for a while, until he could do better, don't you think she would have the right to go on with her work and be happy with the man she loved; instead of allowing some foolish pride to step in and keep them apart?" "That's an entirely different situation," he answered promptly. "The woman would be help- ing the man because she loved him. Service and love would be the firm foundation on which they would build up their lives together. In a case like that, she would be his real help-mate and deserve only credit and admiration for giving up her home. But where a woman marries a man who is well able to take care of her and her only desire for a busi- ness career is to flaunt her independence and abide by some foolish declaration, probably made before she was old enough to know anything about love and the big things that make life worth while, that THE LOSING GAIN 161 woman, to my mind, is doing a gross injustice, not only to herself, and the man she loves and who loves her, but to all mankind!" "Why, Norman, you've never expressed yourself; quite so freely before!" Norah was greatly sur- prised at the outburst, a long one from the man whose usual conversation was more reserved. He must, indeed, think, and have thought deeply on the subject. "I'm intensely interested. Never mind about the injustice to the woman and the man, but just what do you mean by one to all mankind?" "I'll explain my meaning, gladly." He leaned across the table to gaze at her intently as if trying to fathom her innermost thoughts. "Just say, as an example, that you married me," he pretended not to heed the flood of color that mounted to her cheeks "and that I agreed to your retaining your position with Mr. Thorne. Wouldn't you be de- priving some other woman, or man even, of earning a living?" "I never thought of that " Norah's agree- ment was grudging. "Of course you didn't!" He hastened on, anxious to take advantage of the first point he had ever scored. "Here I would be, able not only to support you, but to provide you with every luxury as well, and you would probably be taking the actual bread and butter from another's mouth." "But look at the women who work! Whose hus- bands are probably a great deal wealthier than you !" "I know it. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Don't think for a moment, my dear, that I am only quoting you. I'm talking of a condition that exists all over the world. There should be a law against 162 THE LOSING GAIN it!" He brought his fist down on the table emphati- cally. "A law, preventing married women with hus- bands well able to take care for them from depriving Less fortunate women of a livelihood!" "You you almost frighten me, Norman; you're* so radical." "Yes; I'm afraid I am," he smiled, as he noticed her nervousness. "You see, as a physician, I see so much of humanity. I am thrown in contact with every phase of life. The two days a week given to charity gives me an insight into the suffering and want of the world, of which you can possibly have no idea." "After all this " She broke into a little: laugh, and there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I don't suppose you would ever consent to your wife working would you?" "Hardly!" He returned her laugh. "Mrs. Norman Rogers will find her time fully occupied in; being just a wife!" Almost in silence they finished their dinner. Irt her mind, Norah was carefully weighing the things Norman had told her. She could not help but feel that he was right in many particulars, but at the same time he went a little too far. In the; first place, there were exceptions to all cases. Per- haps he was justified in feeling as he did about most women, but her case was different. She had earned her living since she was twelve years old. This feeling of glorious Independence had become part of her, and he was unreasonable in expecting her to give up without a struggle the sentiments she had cher- ished for years. ' They returned to the apartment about nine o'clock THE LOSING GAIN 163 and found Mrs. Grant in bed suffering from an almost unbearable pain in her head and back. "When did you first notice this?" Norman asked, soberly, as he felt her pulse. "I had a slight headache all day, but I didn't feel badly enough to lie down until about an hour after Norah had gone to meet you." "Why didn't you tell me you had a headache, mama? You know I wouldn't have left you." "It wasn't serious enough to mention, dear. It's only the last two hours that I I'm suffering," she said, through tightly compressed lips. The next day she was worse, and by evening Dr. Rogers had installed a n^rse. "I want her to have some special serum injec- tions," he explained to Norah, "and it takes an ex- perienced and capable nurse to give them according to my directions." Norah went to the office each morning, but only remained a couple of hours. Mr. Thorne was most considerate and insisted upon her leaving just as soon as she looked through his correspondence and gave a few necessary orders for the day. One morning she had been gone about fifteen minutes when Dr. Rogers arrived. He was a little earlier than usual, as he was due at the hospital that morning for an important consultation. "Well, how is my patient this morning?" he asked cheerfully, as he drew his chair up beside the bed. "She had a restless night, doctor," the nurse in- formed him, "but she fell into a nice sleep about five this morning." "Miss Burke, would you go into the next room 164 THE LOSING GAIN for a few minutes?" Mrs. Grant smiled feebly as she made the request. "I want to have a little talk with the doctor alone." As the nurse smiled and retired, Dr. Rogers bent "over his patient. "And now what can I do for you, Mrs. Grant?" he asked, solicitously. Gently he stroked the white; hand that toyed with the spread. "Norman!" With a quick, unexpected motion, she caught hold of his arms, and her eyes searched his own for hidden thoughts. For a long time she had fallen into the habit of calling him "Norman" when they were alone. "I want you, please, to tell me the truth! Am I going to die?" "Why, my dear! What makes you ask that? Surely, you're not getting discouraged because you've been in bed a week?" "It isn't that," as her head shook slowly, "it's just because I feel it! Something tells me I'm not going to get well. Norman, you're as dear to me as a son. I have every confidence in the world in you, and it would be very wrong for you to deceive me." "I wish with all my heart that I were your son, clear," he whispered softly, as he raised her hand to his lips. "You^re all that is gentle, kind and good, Norman, and I know you would give anything to spare me, but you must tell me the truth. Please don f t try to evade answering, it means so much to me." He could not help the moment's hesitation. It was so difficult to tell her, and yet he knew the use- lessness of trying to keep it from her. "There is always a chance for recovery " He THE LOSING GAIN 165 could not prevent his eyes from filling as he sparred for time. His head turned away from those truth- searching eyes. "You know, my dear, where there is life, there is always hope." "Norman, I am nearing the end. Somehow, I seem to have known it from the first, and if my time has come, I'm ready. If only my mind were at rest about Norah." "Norah! Why ?" "Yes, dear; if Norah were only married to you, I could die happy!" \ CHAPTER XVI FOR moments after Mrs. Grant had voiced that request that was dearer to her than anything left in life, Dr. Norman Rogers did not speak. Used as he was to the sight of suffering, of death, itself, this this was so different. He could not con- sider it with the impartiality of the professional man. Even had he spoken, though, it could have been but chokingly, for the lump that rose in his throat w r ould prevent free speech. All the power of his will was put forth to conquer it, to regain his com- posure. Never in his life was the man to forget that scene, never to remember it but with mentally un- covered head as though in the presence of something sacred. Reverently he brought his gaze back to the little white-faced woman lying there before him, herself so calm and resigned, with eyes gazing out and beyond him as though already seeing into the Great Beyond, as she whispered her great faith and trust in him, telling him how peacefully she might meet whatever came if only she could leave her heart's greatest treasure in his keeping. "Dear," he spoke at last, forcing back the great sob that rose in spite of all effort to suppress it, "you know how I love Norah. I would give my life to make her happy! Perhaps you, her mother, can fully realize how great my love, my devotion would be if she would only marry me." "I feel sure that God will answer my prayers." 166 THE LOSING GAIN 167 The simple faith she displayed, filled him with en- couragement. Norah came in at noon with an armful of beauti- ful roses. "Mr. Thorne sent them to you, dear, from his garden. He'll be in to see you in a few days," she told her mother, as she arranged the gift in a tall vase and placed it where the invalid might get the full benefit. "How lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant. "Every- body is so kind." She paused for a moment, then went on hesitantly. "After you've had your lunch, Norah, I'd like to have a little talk with you." "Yes, mama. Would you rather talk with me now? My lunch can wait." "No, dear, have your lunch first; it will do later." "Now, mama, is there something you'd like to have?" Norah seated herself on the edge of the bed after lunch, and held her mother's hand affectionately. "I don't know of a thing you could possibly bring me." The mother's glance strayed about the room, and the sigh she gave was a happy one. "You have sent home every possible thing that might add to my comfort." "It's such a joy to be able to do anything for you, dearest. What did Norman have to say to- day? Will he have you up soon?" "I will never get up, Norah!" With all gentle- ness the mother spoke the words she knew would rend the heart of the daughter, but which, never- theless, must be said, and which, she realized, too, were best said by herself. 168 THE LOSING GAIN Norah's hold tightened on the two waxen hands she held, as though by the sheer strength of her own will she would hold on to what was so dear to her. "I'll not have you talking like that, mama," she exclaimed, her voice high pitched. "I'm sure Norman will object to it, also. You'll soon be as well and strong as ever!" "Norah, dear, listen to me, please! I had a long talk with Norman this morning. He as much as verified what I am telling you. Now, please ! You must be sensible about this, and if you keep on crying, dear, why, I can't tell you about it." "Oh, mama ! Mama ! Surely there is some mis- take!" Norah cried frantically. "You are getting better every day ! When I ask Miss Burke, she tells me you're improving." "She doesn't know, dear. It is something that I felt myself, and Norman couldn't deny it when I asked him." "But I won't give you up, mama! I won't! I won't! We'll call in another doctor maybe Norman doesn't understand! We'll get someone in consultation, and then " "Try to understand, my child," Mrs. Grant in- terrupted. "There isn't any doctor who can help me." "Oh, darling, darling!" Norah threw her arms about her mother's neck. "You can't leave me all alone! I I need you so, mama, mama, I j ' "There, there, dear, please!" The mother petted and soothed until the outburst of grief had passed. "This is something that comes to every one THE LOSING GAIN 169 of us; only they don't all feel it and know it before- hand as I have. Death hasn't any terrors for me, dear; I stand ready to face my Maker whenever I am called. It's only you you " "Oh, mama, if only " "The thought of leaving you alone is the one thing I cannot bear. If if only you would make me very, very happy oh, darling, if you'll only grant this last request of mine!" Hardly taking time to breathe in her great anxiety, she hurried on, the words tumbling over each other. "Mama! mama! There isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for you!" Norah's sobs did not abate. "Anything! Anything!" "Then, dear," came the whisper, "make me happy, let me go to your father in perfect peace and contentment. Promise me that you will marry Norman Rogers!" Norah could almost hear the mad thumping of her own heart. It took a few moments for her to realize what it was her mother was asking, almost demanding of her. She knew it meant her complete surrender; the throwing down of the gauntlet; the acknowledgment of her inability to stand by the courage of her convictions. But she answered quietly: "Very well, mama, dear. I promise." Mrs. Grant caught Norah in her arms and kissed her. "My darling! My darling! You have made me too happy for words! May God bless you!" All through the long, dragging hours of the afternoon, Norah went about her duties in a trance. In her nature were many sterling qualities, but hidden among them was an inherent strain of stubbornness that was bound to crop up ever so often. 170 THE LOSING GAIN Now it was insistently repeating: "You gave id after all ! You gave in after all !" But above this, striving to come to her rescue, there flashed before her the great knowledge and supreme satisfaction of two things: She had granted her adored mother's request, and if she had finally consented to marry, at least she would marry the one and only man she had ever loved ! When Norman called at five-thirty, Norah met him at the door and led the way into the living room. "Mama is asleep," she said, "so come in here. I have something to tell you." "You look tired, Norah," he told her, as he fol- lowed her into the room, "and your eyes are swollen. Have you been crying, dear?" "Norman, mama told me everything this after- noon about herself that she is not going to get well !" Bravely she sought to choke back the sobs, but her voice held a pitiful break as she asked the question, the answer to which she already knew in her inmost consciousness, but there was, too, a wistful eagerness, half hopeful, that the miracle might happen, that she might be reassured. "It's true, Norah, my poor little girl." The tenderness in the doctor's voice sought to ease the pain of the verdict. "I'm so sorry, dear, so sorry, but," and his head shook sadly, "but I'm power- less to help her." She never stopped to reason how it happened, it somehow just did, but the next moment she was in his arms, her head pillowed on his broad chest. He let her have her full cry; only too well he knew the value of the healing of tears. THE LOSING GAIN 171 "Did you know this from the start?" she asked suddenly, raising her head, and taking as a matter of course his movement to dry her eyes. "No not until a few days ago," he answered, "but she sensed it from the start, with one of those peculiar presentiments with which I am probably more familiar than you, dear. They are by no means unusual." It was a time for startling, abrupt happenings. But this time the surprise was Norman's. For Norah Grant's mind, once firmly made up, was not the type of mind to hesitate in carrying out what she had determined to do. While the man's em- bracing arms were still about her in their soothing she drew away from him. He did not attempt to detain her, nor did she even glance at him as she walked to the window and stood there, straight and calm as the steeple on the church at which she gazed with unseeing eyes. As abruptly, she turned to face him. "Norman," she asked, and there was a peculiar intonation that had never before been in her liquid voice, "do do you still love me?" "Love you! Why, darling, I adore you! I'll love you as long as I have breath in my body!" She made a quick gesture with outflung palms. "Well, then if if you still want to marry me, I I'm willing." In two gigantic strides he reached her to catch' her to him and hold her tightly in his arms. "Dearest," he murmured, the tremble of deeply felt emotion in the words, "you've made me the happiest man in the world!" Again and again he kissed her as she lay passive in his arms. But as 172 THE LOSING GAIN suddenly he released her, to hold her at arms' length as his eyes sought to search her soul. "Are you marrying me to please your mother," he queried suspiciously, "or," and the tones turned to pleading, "do you love me just a little?" Norah's answer came unhesitatingly, candidly. "I love you very much," she said, with the sim- plicity of conviction, "but it would not be entirely fair to tell you that my mother's wishes had nothing whatever to do with my decision." To some this might have seemed half-hearted. To Dr. Norman Rogers, knowing Norah Grant as he did, knowing her too, with the knowledge that love brings, it held the world full of meaning. "Darling!" he murmured once more, but that one word spoke volumes, just as did the two fervent arms which too, once more, went out to clasp her to him. Awakening from her nap, refreshed and rested, a little later, Mrs. Grant called for Norah. When she went into the mother's room, Norman went with her. Together they went over to the bed to kneel beside it. Norah caught hold of one of the thin white hands to stroke it. "Feeling a little easier, mama, dear?" she queried. "Much better," Mrs. Grant smiled. "That nap did me a lot of good." "Mama." Norah reached for Norman's hand. "I have promised Norman to marry him, whenever he wishes." "My dear children! I can't find words in which to tell you how happy I am!" choked the sick THE LOSING GAIN 173 woman, a glory of mother-feeling suffusing her as she bent over to kiss them both. In the next few days, there was a decided im- provement in the invalid's condition, the thought of Norah's betrothal acting as an elixir. Then, without warning, she relapsed into a state of inertia. "Norah," she roused herself sufficiently to say in a greatly weakened voice one evening, "I should like very much, dear, to be present, at your wedding." "Why, you will be, dear!" Norah answered, bravely forcing back the tears. "Just as soon as you're well again." "Have you and Norman any plans?" "No, dear, not yet." "Well, then," a faint glow of excitement crept into the faded cheeks, "why don't you arrange for a little wedding right here in this room? Don't you remember, dear, when Susy was married, how I said I hoped to see you married, too? And dear, please let it be soon!" They talked it over that night, after Mrs. Grant had fallen asleep. There could only be one con- clusion. To please the mother was a paramount consideration. "We can arrange for a little ceremony here on Sunday," Norman said quickly. "This is Thursday, and we won't have many preparations to make. I'll only have Frances in, and I don't suppose you'll want anyone, dearest, besides Susan and Jack?" "I'd love to have Jimmie come up from Los Angeles. I wrote him all about mama's condition, and he wired he would come whenever I wanted him. I thought I would wait until until " 174 THE LOSING GAIN "I know, dear; but that may not be for some little time and don't you think your brother would like to see your mother? He might like to bring his wife." "You're thoughtful, Norman. I think, too, that mama would like to see Doris, she only knows her through her letters. I'll wire Jimmie to-night." At eleven-thirty on Sunday morning, Norah Evelyn Grant became the wife of Norman Rogers. At her mother's bedside, the ceremony was per- formed with quiet dignity. They knelt and received the blessing. Above them a ray of sunshine streamed through the window, circling about the mother's head, as she sat in bed, bolstered by pillows, long enough to see her prayer fulfilled, and her beloved daughter given into the safe keeping of a man of worth. Jimmie had arrived early that morning from Los Angeles in answer to Norah's wire. It was a sad home-coming for Jimmie. He hadn't seen his family since his marriage, and know- ing the seriousness of his mother's illness, he was heavy-hearted when he entered the house. Doris did not come with him, for she was engaged in doing a picture and could not get away. He could only remain until Monday evening, as he had to be at work Tuesday morning. He had changed greatly in the years he had been away; he was taller, much heavier; but the thing that Norah could not escape noticing with disap- proval, there was an air of dissipation on what should have been his still boyish countenance. Then, too, from a happy optimistic boy, he had developed into a cynical pessimist. Everyone secretly acknowl- THE LOSING GAIN 175 edged the change before he had been home an hour, that is, everyone save his mother. To her he was still just her boy, her baby ! But they found it necessary to caution him about saying he had run up only on account of Norah's wedding. It was not until late in the afternoon that Norah found herself alone with her brother. Mrs. Grant was resting after all the excitement of the morning; Norman had gone to pay some visits to the hospital; Frances had returned to Burlingame, and Susan and Jack were out for a walk. "Well, Jimmie, this is the first chance I've had for a real talk with you since you got here," Norah said, as she pulled her chair up close to his in the living room. "There surely has been a lot of excitement around here all day," he answered, stretching comfortably in his chair. "Don't you think it has been too much for mama?" "Norman says that excitement such as this will never harm her; she's had a very happy day of it." "She looks dreadfully bad, Norah! I was shocked to see her. I'm sorry Doris couldn't come with me, I don't suppose mama will ever see her." "I'm sorry, too, Jimmie. We should all like to meet your wife." "Well, she's doing a bit in a picture, and they're working on it every day, even to-day. Sunday doesn't make any difference when they're rushing to get through a picture." "I've looked for mention of Doris in the picture 176 THE LOSING GAIN news of the daily papers often, Jimmie, and also in the different movie magazines. Susy buys them all and brings them over to mama." "And you haven't found her name, have you?" There was a cynical smile on his face that Norah disliked seeing there. "It's all pull and influence in this game. Why, there are any number of women playing leads who can't compare with Doris in looks and cleverness, and yet she's lucky to get a bit once in a while." "What about ability? I should think that would win out in spite of everything." "Nothing doing! It's all pull, I tell you! You don't know the world like I do, Norah." His voice was bitter. "I think I know it pretty well, Jimmie; and it seems to me that the men or women who have it in them to succeed usually do. How about you and your work?" "Oh, I'm doing fine." Jimmie's shoulders shrugged. "As fine as anyone can ever do in my kind of a job. Getting the maximum wages of an electrician, and making a good deal working over- time." "Now, don't you see I'm right? You had the ability, and you've succeeded." "But what kind of a success do you call it? I'll never be rich or go much beyond where I am now, un- less something unforeseen happens." "Do you love Doris, Jimmie?" she asked hint earnestly. "Are you happy, dear?" "Of course I love Doris and am happy! We're as happy as any other couple, and we're always THE LOSING GAIN 177 having a good time, parties, dances; something doing every night." "Have you a home?" "Yes, we have one of the prettiest Queen Anne shingled cottages you ever saw. We're not in it much," he smiled, "but the little time we are we surely enjoy it." "Doesn't Doris ever feel like giving up her work and staying at home?" "Give up her career? Why, Norah, she wouldn't think of such a thing ! She's exactly like you, wants to be independent and all that. How about you? Still going to keep up your position with Mr. Thome?" "Indeed not!" She shook her head a little sadly. "Much as I should love to, Norman wouldn't agree to anything of the sort. He's been very kind, though, and has consented to my going down for a few hours every day until Mr. Thorne has someone to take my place. Were you surprised to hear about Norman, Jimmie?" "Not about Norman, no. You see mother and Susy have been writing me about him for months. But I was surprised to receive your telegram telling me you were marrying in such a hurry. Why, only in mother's last letter to me, she told me she didn't think you would ever marry. How did you come to change your mind?" "To please mama. You see, it was her last request. She said, and I I " "Please, Norah, don't cry! I understand what you mean, and it was bully of you to make her happy. Do you think you'll get along with him?" 178 THE LOSING GAIN "Get along with him? Why, what do you mean?" "Well, marrying someone just to please someone else isn't always the pleasantest thing in the world to do " "Oh, but Jimmie! I do love Norman! Please remember that not even to please mama, at least I don't think so, could I have married a man I didn't care for." "That's different. Then you've nothing to worry about, unless it's sitting around idle all day. It will be a new experience for you, Norah. Seems to me I can't remember the time when you didn't work." "It will seem strange, won't it? I'll have a chance to keep busy, though, taking care of Norman and his home. At all events I'm going to stay here with mama for a while, and if she is only spared to us we will take her down the peninsula to Norman's home. Oh, you should see it, Jimmie! It is so lovely!" There was real pride in her tone, but in the saying of the words, it came faintly to Norah Rogers that she was talking about her own home. She hadn't seemed just to sense it before. CHAPTER XVII MATTERS went along so in their usual smooth course that, in the next few weeks, had it not been for the narrow platinum band on her finger and Miss Burke' s calling her "Mrs. Rogers,' Norah would hardly have realized herself married. Each day she went down to the office for a short period. Mr. Thorne had engaged a highly recommended young woman to take her place, and she was most ^lad to show her what to do. Norman came twice a day as usual, but telephoned to her at least half a dozen times in between. He showered her with attentions, candy, fruit, flowers, books, everything of which he could think that she might like. At the end of ten 'days Miss Tyler fairly well understood her duties and Mr. Thorne told Norah it would not be necessary for her to come down any longer. In bidding her good-by he told her : "Mrs. Rogers, I can't tell you how I hate to have you leave, though I may be selfish in saying it when I am certain you are going to be very happy. I know Dr. Rogers by reputation, and there is no reason to believe you will ever have cause to regret the step you "have taken." "I feel sure I will be very happy Mr. Thorne." "At the same time, Mrs. Rogers, I never knew a 179 180 THE LOSING GAIN woman as intensely interested in business as you, and I can unhesitatingly say that you had a most remarkable future before you." "Thank you, Mr. Thorne." "I want you to know that no matter how many people I have in my office, there will always be room for you, in case you ever wish to return." "You are more than kind, and I sincerely appreci- ate it," she thanked, as she held out her hand. Then next day an exquisite piece of statuary was delivered at the apartment for Dr. and Mrs. Norman Rogers, with the sincere wishes of Mr. Daniel Thorne. In spite of the many little things with which Norah busied herself about the house, she missed the office constantly for the first few days. There was so little she could do for her mother, outside of remaining near her, as Norman had insisted on send- ing in a night nurse, as well as Miss Burke. "But, Norman," Norah had protested, "why can't I relieve Miss Burke of most of her duties during the day, and then she will be rested for her night vigil?" "Because, darling, you're not any too strong yourself." He kissed her and held her off at arms' length in that caressing little manner he had assumed from the start of his precipitate wooing. "You must remember that you have worked hard all your life, and your vitality is rather low. Besides, dear, you've been under a terrific strain these last few weeks." "Why, Norman," she laughed. "I'm perfectly strong! You'll be making a regular baby of me!" "That's exactly what I intend doing," he said THE LOSING GAIN 181 tenderly. "When I have you entirely to myself, it will not be long before you'll be in such splendid condition you'll hardly know yourself." Susan came over from Piedmont every day for a few hours, for now that she realized how really ill her mother was, she didn't intend to have anyone say she was lacking in daughterly love and devotion. She was always full of news and harmless gossip, and for a woman who did absolutely nothing worth- while, Susan was the busiest woman in the world. Norah loved to have her come, and rather enjoyed listening to her constant chatter. Frances, too, managed to come in about three times a week, so that Norah could hardlyMiave said she was lonely. It was only the constant desire for something to do that was urging a restlessness that was something quite new in her hitherto busy life. Norman came in one day when they had been married almost a month and placed a handsome velvet box from Shreve's in her hands. Opening it, she gave a little gasp of astonishment as the beauti- ful brooch, two exquisitely set rings and a mag- nificent bracelet, caught her eye. "How perfectly gorgeous!" she cried. "Surely they are not for me?" "Who else do you think they would be for, 'dear?" "But all these beautiful things, Norman! I don't understand it." "They were my mother's jewels," he said, softly, "and I've had them reset for you." "Your mother's!" Her tone was tender, as she gently touched the stones that blazed and smiled un- derstandingly at her. 182 THE LOSING GAIN "Frances has kept them in the safe deposit all these years," went on Norman, "planning that some day I should give them to my wife." "Why did you have them reset, Norman? I should have loved them just as they were." "Why, dearest, they were jewels my father had given my mother when they were first married. You can imagine how old-fashioned they were. You could never have worn them." "Worn them? Why, surely, you don't expect me to wear them?" Norah seemed so genuinely fright- ened at the prospect that Norman burst into a hearty laugh. "Most assuredly you're to wear them. What did you expect to do with them?" "Why, keep them and cherish them because they were your mother's. But I can't imagine wearing them. I've never had a piece of jewelry in my life, other than a plain little watch mama gave me one Christmas." "Well, things are different now, dear," he laughed again. "Do you like the settings?" "Oh, yes !" She was still bewildered. "I'm glad," he answered, proudly. "Frances selected them." She closed the box slowly and placed it on the table. Somehow some of the sparkle seemed to have departed from the jewels. What a petty thing she had been! The significance of her own resentful thoughts did not come to Norah Rogers in its entirety until she had retired for the night. For so long it had been a habit of the self-reliant girl to commune with her- THE LOSING GAIN 183 self, to face her problems in the darkness of night. Somehow, under the cover of darkness, she seemed to be so detached, with her body re- laxed for sleep, that the truth of matters sifted to her more clearly than when thought of even with the concentration she was accustomed to give to everything. Now it came to her clearly how small had been the thought in being resentful over nothing save the kindly action of another; another who was think- ing only of giving her pleasure. Why had she not considered how busy a man was her doctor, whose time was rarely his own? What more natural than that Frances should attend x to a matter for him when he was too busy to do it himself? She had never before experienced so ugly a sensation as that that had crept over her when Norman informed her that Frances had selected the settings, and not he, himself. It could not have been jealousy, of that she was certain, for never in her life had she felt the least envy of any living soul. At all events, it should never occur again. That much she promised herself, and yet, the very next afternoon it did occur again, and, if possible, she found herself even worse than on the day before. Susan came over for the afternoon and Norah showed her the jewels. She was thrown into an iecstasy. "Why, Norah Grant Rogers! You lucky girl! I've never seen anything so wonderful!" she ex- claimed. "Norman must be worth millions to have given you these I" "Nonsense, Susy!" Norah laughed. "I don't 184 THE LOSING GAIN know how much money Norman has, but I'm sure he's not worth anywhere near one million, let alone millions." "Well, just the same I know they must have cost an awful lot! They're wonderful!" "They were Norman's mother's, and Frances had them reset for me," Norah explained. "That was mighty nice of Frances, I'll say. Nearly every woman I know would have kept them for herself. Catch me giving them to Jimmie's wife, if I had a chance to keep them for myself!" Norah felt the blood mounting to her cheeks. Susy was right; Frances had been kind and generous, and only yesterday she had entertained an unworthy, an almost inexplicable feeling against her. She felt more ashamed of herself than ever. "Why aren't you wearing them, instead of keep- ing them in the box?" Susan asked. "I would look pretty, wearing them in the house, dressed as I am." Norah looked down at her simple little gingham house dress and smiled. "Well, if they belonged to me, I'd wear them in bed," Susan declared, with a toss of her head. "But you never did appreciate nice clothes or any- thing else. You're the funniest girl I ever saw. Why, you're not even excited!" "What is there to be excited about?" "Well, I know that if Jack ever gave me a present like that, I'd show a little enthusiasm about it. The only jewelry he ever gave me," Susan sighed, "was a string of near pearls for twenty-five dollars, and then he only paid the first five dollars down on them and I had to finish the dollar a week till they were paid for myself." THE LOSING GAIN 185 A ring at the bell interrupted further conversation. Norah went to answer it and returned in a moment with a large box in her hands. "What is it?" Susan, the curious, ran forward to see. "I'm sure I don't know. I didn't buy anything." Norah was puzzled. "It's addressed to Mrs. Norman Rogers and is from Liebes'." Norah had cut the string and was trying to extri- cate from its voluminous folds of tissue paper a handsome seal coat with a sable colar. "Oh! Oh!" Susan snatched it from Norah's hands and began examining it. "What a beauty!" "Susy, please be quiet, you'll disturb mama !" Norah picked up a card and read aloud: "To my dear little wife, with love from Norman." "There never was anything like it! Do slip it on, Norah," Susan begged, as she held the coat for Norah to slip into it and turned up the soft fur collar about the neck. "Why, it fits me perfectly!" she exclaimed in sur- prise. "I wonder how he could have known the; size?" "Most probably picked out a girl in the store just your size. You certainly have a wonderful husband, Norah." "There's the bell again." Norah started to re- move the coat. "I'll go," Susan offered. When she returned a few minutes later with Frances, Norah still wore the coat. "Did it just come?" Frances asked her sister-in- law, as she kissed her and laid on the table a large bundle of flowers she had brought for Mrs. Grant. 186 THE LOSING GAIN "Yes, a few minutes ago." Norah was sur- prised that Frances seemed to know about it. "Why, they promised positively to send it yes- terday!" Frances deplored. "I forgot to ask Norman this morning whether you had received it!" Norah was removing the coat as hastily as she could. "Tell me, Frances," she demanded, "is this coat from you, or Norman?" "Norman, of course," Frances laughed. "I might feel as if I wanted to give you a lovely pres- ent, Norah, but I couldn't quite afford that. Norman told me he wanted you to have a coat and for me to have one made to fit me (we're exactly the same size, you know) and to send it to you." "Didn't he see it, or select it?" Norah hoped she did not sound as she felt. "Why, no, dear. He left it entirely to me. He's very kind about always relying on my judgment. The head man at the furrier's assured me the skins were the very finest. Do you like it?" Frances was quite anxious. "It's very nice, thank you." Norah picked up the coat and walked toward the bedroom. "I'll show it to mama, if she's awake." "Oh, I do hope she liked it!" Frances began as soon as Norah had left the room. "She didn't seem quite as pleased as I had hoped " "Why, of course she liked it!" Susan, who thought in her own mind that Norah must be crazy, tried to make excuses for her. "You see, you and Norman are so wonderful to her, and it's all so sudden, she can't get used to it." "We want to do everything we can for her,'* THE LOSING GAIN 187 Frances assured. "Norman loves her so, and I want to be a real sister to her." When Norah found her mother still sleeping, she tip-toed to the closet and hung up the coat without even looking at it again. That ugly sensation that she had sworn, only the night before, she would never give heed to again, had managed to make itself felt once more. She must find out what it meant, she must! and then conquer it! That was the only thing to do. CHAPTER XVIII BUT neither Norah nor anyone else had the time or inclination to work out problems for some time to come. Norah was with her mother when she woke. At first, she was immensely pleased at the calm, tranquil expression that was on the invalid's face. There was no sign of the drawing of muscles from pain that had been so evident for the past weeks. Norah believed her mother must be much better. "Your nap has done you a lot of good, hasn't it, mama?" she asked, as she shook up the pillows to make her mother's head more comfortable. Mrs. Grant smiled, but it was that smile, some- thing in it of unearthiness that Norah, familiar with every emotion, almost every thought of that mother, that told her, with a sharp clutching at her heart, that pain was over for Evelyn Grant. Outside the church bell had been ringing the evening chimes. Through the stillness that followed, with their reverberations still in the air, there came faintly through the windows the voices of the choir at rehearsal. As she listened, her head half raised that she might catch the words, there came to Evelyn Grant a night long ago when she had listened to the same song. Perfect contentment suffused her being. She felt that she had kept the faith, and the reward was hers. " Fear not, I am with thee, oh, be not dismayed, For I am thy God and will still give thee aid. . *' 188 THE LOSING GAIN 189 "Norah," she said weakly, as with that tender smile, her head dropped back on the pillows, "child, I've tried to do the best I could " Quietly and peacefully, like a tired child, Mrs. Grant went to sleep there while Norah, her emotion too deep for tears, held her hands as she passed out into the Beyond. Although that climax had been expected for many weeks, when it did come, it came with a suddenness that stunned them all. To Norah the next two weeks were like a horrid dream through which she was passing, and could not force herself awake. The funeral, Jimmie's hurried trip up from Los Angeles, the disposing oKthe apartment, all these things she sensed but faintly She hardly knew how it had all happened when she found herself in her husband's home in Burlingame. That she hadn't been consulted about Frances making her home with her and Norman, had not for a moment entered the young wife's mind. She took it for granted that her husband's sister would always remain with him, just as her own mother would always have remained with her had she been spared. Norman drove her down one afternoon about six o'clock. As they left the lights of the Mission be- hind them, Norah felt as if she were saying good-by indeed to the last friend of her old life and entering upon a new one. Frances met them at the door and opened her arms to Norah. "My dear sister," she said, "welcome to your new home. May you find everlasting happiness beneath this roof." Lights were burning everywhere. There was a bright log fire in the grate in the living room and 190 THE LOSING GAIN vases and bowls of beautiful flowers filled every nook. Through the open doorway of the dining room the table shone spotless, with its dainty linen and exquisite cutlery. Norman placed his arm tenderly about Norah's waist as he led her up the stairs to the large front room running almost the entire length of the house, and opened the door. For a moment she stood spellbound, staring at the wonder before her. The entire room had been done over. Everything the walls, carpets and hang- ings had been carried out in a combination of orchid and nile green. The furniture was of hand- carved ivory. Not an item was missing to complete the dainty little nest, so suited to a bride. "Oh, Norman! How lovely!" she finally whis- pered. He closed the door and gently took her in his arms. "My own my darling little wife!" If there is such a thing as killing a person with kindness, it did not take Norah long to discover that this was exactly what her husband and Frances were in a fair way to do, however much may have been their opposite intentions. When she first came to Burlingame she was suffering from a nervous strain and greatly appreciated the rest and quiet that was made possible for her, but gradually, as she began to recuperate, such elaborate attentions began to irritate her. She had demurred greatly against hav- ing a tray sent to her bed every morning, but had finally given in, more to avoid an argument than any- THE LOSING GAIN 191 thing else. Then, too, it had been her full expecta- tion to take complete charge of her husband's home; to oversee the servants, attend to the marketing, arrange the menus and everything else that required a wife's superintendence, but she found that all of these things were to be left entirely to Frances. When she spoke to Norman about it, he laughed and attempted to pacify her as he would a child who had asked for candy and could not have it. "Frances has attended to it all for over twenty- five years," he said, "and is so capable in every way. Besides, dearest, I don't want you to exert yourself in the least, not mentally or physically. You have worked so hard all your liie, you simply must rest." She could have screamed aloud. She had heard it so often, from both Norman and Frances: "You've worked so hard!" What if she had worked? Was she the only woman in the world who had ever worked? Why talk about it all the time, and why, oh, why, make such a fuss about it? Oh, they both meant it so kindly; they wanted to make life so easy for her of that she was certain but at the same time she felt as if it would drive her mad. Lavish gifts from her husband continued to rain upon her. Scarcely a day but some evidence of his love and thoughtfulness came to her. Twice a week Frances went into the city, one day to attend a literary club to which she belonged and the other to do the necessary shopping for herself and the home. Each time she would send numerous packages out to Norah. There would be beautiful THE LOSING GAIN silk hose, gloves, handkerchiefs, dainty and exquisite hand-made lingerie and, in fact, all of the many req- uisites necessary to the well-dressed woman. One day Norah remonstrated with her: "Frances, I can't accept all these beautiful things from you; there isn't a way for me ever to recipro- cate and it embarrasses me greatly." "Why, Norah, these are not presents from me." Frances smiled good-naturedly. "They are things that Norman tells me to buy for you and keep you supplied with." "Do you mean to tell me, Frances, that you are actually doing my personal shopping for me?" Norah's cheeks were scarlet. "Not exactly that, dear." Frances seemed sur- prised at Norah's attitude. "Only Norman doesn't wish you to exert yourself as yet and shopping is the most tiresome thing imaginable." "Exert myself?" Norah's sarcastic laugh was something so new that it surprised even herself, as she hurried up to her own room. It was all so unheard of, she thought, as she began to pace slowly up and down the long room; this con- tinued pampering of her; this this determination to crush her spirit of independence. That was 'exactly what it was ! She stood stock still as the knowledge of it burst with a sudden force upon her consciousness. A conspiracy! To make her as de- pendent as before she had been independent! One by one she began to recall things. Whenever she said she was going across the bay to see Susan, she was never questioned, but Norman simply an- nounced that the car would be waiting for her at such and such a time to make such and such a boat. Once THE LOSING GAIN 193 or twice when sheer contrariness had urged her to say she preferred another hour, there had been no argument. Norman had simply said: "Very well, dear, any time you say the car will be ready." And there it always was the big limousine, with the respectful, perfectly groomed chauffeur wait- ing to take her across the bay to Susan's and bring her home again whenever she was ready. He treated her as though she was a child or incompetent to go about by herself. He insisted upon buying her beautiful gowns when she said she preferred simple things. And when she said she would like to remain in black for her mother, he wouldn't hear of it. "Simple things, by all Weans, dearest, for after all they are the prettiest, only simple things of elegance. As to your wearing black for any length of time, that is simply out of the question. You were the most wonderful daughter in the world; there isn't a thing with which you can reproach your- self. Your mother never would approve of your wearing mourning, and I know it is bound to have a depressing effect upon your constitution." In Norah's nature there was something that shrunk from arguments, something inborn and hard to explain. It was not the only respect in which she was a replica of her father, stubborn, but hard-to-disturb James Grant. And it was this aver- sion to arguing that caused her to give in to so many things at which she inwardly rebelled. So Norman had his way about the dresses. He would order the chauffeur to bring her into town at a certain time, would lunch with her at some interest- ing place and then take her to some exclusive shop to select a lovely gown. Invariably it was he who 194 THE LOSING GAIN r did the selecting, as she could not display any interest where she felt none. But this sort of thing happened rarely. He was too busy a man to devote much time to selecting women's apparel. So it was nearly always left to Frances to do the selecting and send the things home. When it came to money, Norah had expected to have a regular, stipulated monthly allowance, and when in the first few weeks of her married life, she broached the subject to Norman, he laughed as though he considered it humorous. "Why, darling, of course you can have all the money you want ! You have but to ask for it. All that I have is yours. I have opened an account for you in every worth-while shop in town; the limousine is always at your disposal, and I'll always see that my little girl always has plenty of spending money in her purse." And he always did. He would pick up her bag whenever it was in sight, or even open the drawer of the dresser and look for it to slip two or three good- sized bills into it, without looking to see whether there was any left from the last time or not. Norah always removed the bills when she was alone, and de- posited them in a neat little pile in a secret drawer of her escritoire. If Norah Rogers had laid her case before judges and juries, before nine-tenths of the world's population, they would most probably have proclaimed her of unsound mind. She had a hus- band who worshiped her, who fairly smothered her with kindness, devotion and attention. She had a sister-in-law, one of whose only thoughts in life seemed to be to provide for her every comfort and her happiness, as well as for her husband's, and yet THE LOSING GAIN 195 she found herself discontented, and at times, miserably unhappy. And yet where nine-tenths of the people would have condemned Norah Rogers and have designated her as ungrateful, unappreciative, and a decidedly unreasonable woman, the other tenth would have understood and sympathized with her. The sudden transplanting of a self-reliant, capable, energetic girl such as Norah Grant had al- ways been into a bed of luxury and idleness was like taking a wild poppy from its field and placing it in a hot house amidst rare orchids and camelias. From a girl who had been independent in every re- spect, not only in a wage-earning capacity, she found herself deteriorating into a mere nonentity of utter dependence far worse than a child of tender years, or a deficient. She, whose very clothes were bought for her; whose actual thinking done. Two things alone kept her from telling Norman exactly how she felt, and demanding a complete re- vision of matters. First of all, she loved him so dearly she could not bear the idea of hurting him, and hurt him she would, deeply, if he thought for an instant that she resented the very things his great love for her prompted him to do. She knew, only too well, that her second reason for maintaining a bitter silence was her distaste for argument or scenes. In the end, she decided upon patience as the best solution for her problem. Perhaps in time, things would naturally re-adjust themselves and Norman would realize that it was impossible to continue treat- ing her in this manner. What had happened to his oft-expressed opinions about a wife's duties to her husband and her home? 196 THE LOSING GAIN Surely he was living up to anything save what he had preached, as far as she was concerned! When she thought of that, she was compelled to believe that all he was doing now was simply because he sincerely thought that she was in need of care and attention for a while, and that afterwards, he would be will- ing for her to assume all the responsibilities of the mistress of her home. Such were the thoughts with which she buoyed her- self and managed to live through the uninteresting, empty days and weeks. CHAPTER XIX TIME, they arc fond of platitudinously reflect- ing, brings wonderful changes, heals wounds and readjusts lives. But, just as there are exceptions to all rules, so it was in Norah's case. Conditions, if anything, as far as her mental rebellion and its causes were con- cerned, grew worse as weeks passed into months. There seemed so little she could do about it, too. No one knew better than she how unlike her it was to accept conditions that were distasteful, but she was coming to wonder if this was the once self-reliant Norah Grant, as she gazed on her countenance each morning in the triple mirrors of her dressing table, with their carved ivory frames. Had these people made her a ditferent entity? By what peculiar alchemy had they accomplished it, this change to the nonentity she now felt herself to be, she, whom she realized, was becoming gradually resigned to her fate and settling into a sort of listless apathy? She was busy enough in some way, however, for she went everywhere, to luncheons, receptions, teas, lectures, matinees. But always with Frances and some of her friends. She was never particularly interested in anything they said or did, and would sometimes sit through an entire afternoon without scarcely uttering a word. "That beautiful little Mrs. Rogers," they called her. "Always so sweet and demure." 197 198 THE LOSING GAIN Frances fairly adored her; she was so pliable in her hands; so content to let the older woman fuss over her and wait upon her. Ever since Frances could remember, she had longed for someone to mother. While Norman was a very young boy, she lavished her wealth of affection upon him, but as he attained the state of manhood, she discovered that he was embarrassed whenever she was outwardly too demonstrative, and she had stopped it. Not without a pang of loss, though, so what could be more natural now than for her to expend all that stored up tenderness on his wife? No mother could possibly have been more kind, more gentle, more lov- ing or considerate than Frances Rogers was of her sister-in-law, and yet Norah had for so long cherished a feeling of resentment against Frances, had at so many times misconstrued her numerous acts of kindness, that had she suddenly been con- fronted with the question as to whether or not she loved Frances, she would have, in all truth, felt com- pelled to answer, "No." And yet not a soul, especially Frances herself, ever dreamed of such a thing. Along with every- thing else, Norah had developed a secretiveness about herself and her feelings that was quite as for- eign to the out-spoken, straight-forward girl of a few months before, as was her giving in. The only times when she was separated from Frances were when she paid an occasional visit to Susan, and it was Frances who declined to accompany her, insisting that the sisters must have a lot to say to one another, and therefore should be alone. Everyone spoke of Norah and Norman Rogers as a wonderfully happy couple, perfectly mated and THE LOSING GAIN 199 absolutely suited to one another. Norah was a greatly envied woman, not only among the women belonging to the San Francisco and the peninsula's smart sets, with whom she now mingled, but among an entirely different class; Susan's friends, and even Susan herself. Just what they thought was made very clear to her one day when she attended a luncheon and bridge that Susan insisted upon giving in her honor. Susan hadn't included Frances in the invitation because she was having only two tables of bridge, as she ex- plained to her sister, and had already given up her own seat to Norah. "Besides," Susy added, \a bit resentfully, "Frances don't invite me to every affair she gives, so why should I worry?" Norah was apologetic as she explained the situa- tion to Frances, using as an excuse for Susan's action her inability to seat more than a very limited number at her table. "Why, it's perfectly all right, Norah," Frances answered. "Susan surely doesn't have to stand on ceremony with me. I want you to look extra well," she changed the subject, with a twinkle in her eye, "because I know how anxious Susan is to exhibit you to her friends." "Susy was just as proud of me before I was mar- ried," Norah could not refrain from answering. But Susy hadn't been and no one knew it better than Frances, wise enough as she was to say no more about it. At twelve o'clock the following Wednesday, Norah stepped out of her limousine and walked up the gravel path to Susan's little bungalow. 200 THE LOSING GAIN "Oh, Norah, I'm so glad you're here ahead of the others, so we can have a little chat!" Susan kissed her effusively, but her eyes strayed. "Oh, what a gorgeous coat!" she enthused, as Norah started to remove her garments. "I'm glad you like it," Norah said, as she laid aside the long moleskin wrap across Susan's bed. "Like it? It's beautiful! I'm glad you got mole it's so stylish " "Yes; I believe it is to be worn a great deal this winter." "When did you get it?" Susan always asked so many questions, Norah thought. "Saturday," she answered monosyllabically, allow- ing Susan to think she had selected it herself, instead of having found it in her room when she had re- turned with Frances from a matinee. "You have the most wonderful " The door- bell prevented Susan's sentence completion, and in her heart Norah was glad. She was so sick of being told how wonderful her husband was! And she did wish Susan would stop going into ecstasies about everything; it always irritated her. One by one the guests arrived, and at one o'clock they were all gathered around Susan's luncheon table. Everyone kept up a constant chatter with the exception of Norah, silent for the most part, as she had come to be. Listening disinterestedly, her gaze roved about the room. The walls were still red, but how dull and faded! She remembered how, years before, she had disapproved of Susan's idea of furnishing a home. THE LOSING GAIN 201 She was sure that, in her own way, Susan was per- fectly happy, though, while she "I beg your pardon?" She turned to Mrs. Rollins, a pretty little blonde woman at her right. "Were you speaking to me?" "Yes, Mrs. Rogers. I was just saying I had heard so much about your beautiful home and gar- dens. Susan says it's the most attractive place in Burlingame." "Susy is exaggerating a little," smiled Norah. "Our home is very comfortable and the gardens are lovely, but there are a great many homes out there more elaborate." "I'm hearing such wonderful things about your husband, Mrs. Rogers." The lady next to Susan spoke from the other side of the table. "Yes, indeed!" Mrs. Campbell sighed. "It must be a joy to have a husband who adores one like yours does." "And to keep giving you presents all the time!" Mrs. Rollins added, " and paying you the same attention as in your courtship days !" "Your sister tells me you have such a beautiful new coat, Mrs. Rogers." A nervous woman, whose fingers seemed continually to be fumbling with some- thing, spoke to her jerkily. "Do you mind if I try it on after luncheon? I'm going to get a new coat on the first. Of course Joe could never afford mole, but I want to see if the style is becoming, then per- haps I could get something like it in cloth." "By all means try it on, Mrs. Peters," Norah answered heartily. Not only Mrs. Peters, but all the others tried on 202 THE LOSING GAIN Norah's wonder coat after luncheon. They all went into raptures over it, and it seemed to Norah as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched them, that they even outdid Susy in raving. The style, the quality of the skins, the handsome lining, all came in for their share of admiration and for the rest of the afternoon, as they sat at the little bridge tables, Norah kept hearing from all sides, that she was indeed a fortunate woman. At five o'clock, when the others had gone, and she 1 was about ready to leave herself, Jack came noisily in, a son hanging on each arm. "Well, Norah!" he greeted. "My, but you're looking like a million dollars! Isn't she, Susy?" He gave his wife a matter-of-fact kiss. "How's Doc and everything, Norah?" "Doc and everything's fine, Jack," she answered, smilingly. Jack always amused her with his breezy, good-natured familiarity. "Not so bad, eh, Norah? You could have done a lot worse than take your brother-in-law's advice, eh? Beautiful clothes; handsome limousine; hob- nobbing with real swells in society, you're a mighty lucky girl, Norah!" There it was again ! "Yes, Jack, I suppose I am," she answered quietly. As they walked with her to the car where the chauffeur stood holding the door open, Jack sud- denly turned to Susan. "Oh, Susy, a fellow was in to-day about trading in our piano for an electric player." "That would be great, Jack. We could have all the popular music! This way, nobody plays and the piano is hardly ever opened." THE LOSING GAIN 203 "Well, I told him to come and see you about it. Told him the running of the house and all such things were entirely in my wife's hands." Rolling down the street on her way to the ferry, Norah closed her eyes and sighed. All those women that afternoon had envied her. Susan and Jack had envied her, and now she found herself almost envy- ing them, the way they went through life together, Jack's faith and confidence in Susan. U I leave such things entirely in her hands." The words rang in Norah's ears. She felt, at that moment, as though she would give her life to hear Norman say them. For six months the routine in the Rogers home went along with a smoothness that would have brought joy to the hearts of James and Evelyn Grant those days before the earthquake. Nothing changed. Nothing seemed ever going to change, as Norah thought in one of those moments alone in her boudoir when allowed herself the luxury of giving in to maddening contemplation. Spring came, and the lilac bushes were in bloom beneath her window. One morning, as she attempted to get out of bed, she fainted, for the first time in her life. When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the chaise-longue near the window, with the morning sun streaming in and filling the room with its radiance. Norman was on his knees beside her. He gathered her gently, reverently, in his arms and whispered the glorious truth in her ears. She was to become a mother! Norman never forgot the expression of her eyes; the wonderment; the joy. She threw her arms about his neck and held him close, as she murmured, her 204 THE LOSING GAIN voice thick with emotion: "Pray that God will make me worthy of this beautiful gift!" From that moment, a new Norah sprang into life; a Norah so happy, so buoyant, she was a revelation to all who came in contact with her. There was a song on her lips all through the day, and her heart was so full of joy she felt it must burst. They pam- pered her more than ever. She was guarded as a rare and precious jewel. She was sure that nowhere in the universe was there a queen who was waited on more than she. But she didn't care. They could do whatever they pleased with her. Nothing mattered. Soon, she would have something to do ! A way to occupy every moment of her time! Her baby! Her very own! Not so long ago she had thought life so empty, and now it was soon to be so full, so full of this wonderful new joy, the joy of motherhood! All the old resentment against Frances was ban- ished from her heart, for she felt it impossible for her to harbor unkindly thoughts toward anyone or anything. But as is so often the case in real life, so different from the idealism of fiction, such con- ditions were too good to last. Always the jealous Fate, too jealous to allow mere mortals an over- sufficiency of joy, must step in to spoil it! Something occurred to Norah to bring back her discarded resentment four-fold. All through the happy months of waiting, Norah had been secretly planning, and working, when she had the chance, for the baby's arrival. She had the layette all planned to her satisfaction. There were many things she would make herself, and had THE LOSING GAIN 205 already started. It was so wonderful to embroider and put a love thought in every stitch. The balance of the things she would buy at a dear little baby shop she knew of in the city. She made up her mind that this was one shopping expedition on which she would go alone. It was all very well for Frances to go with her to select her own things, but this was different ; it was for her very own baby and she would go alone. She would not even take Susan. She would select each thing with care and love and there should be no one to advise and hurry her. She had not touched any of the money that Norman con- tinually slipped into her purse and there was quite a sum in the drawer of her escritoire. Heretofore she had used her own money for any little thing she might have needed; money that she had saved dur- ing the years she was employed by Daniel Thorne. But she would take the money for the baby's layette from the drawer, for she thought it only fair to Norman that he should have a share in getting their .child's outfit. Then in her mind she set the day to go. It would be the coming Thursday. She decided she would offer no explanations ; she simply would order the car for eleven o'clock and go. On Tuesday Frances went in to her literary club as usual. It was about noon on Wednesday while Norah was in the garden gathering flowers for her room that Magnin's delivery truck drove up to the door. In about twenty minutes Frances came out to the garden to ask : "Norah dear, please come up to your room with me for a few minutes I've something to show you." Expecting to see a gift of some kind from 206 THE LOSING GAIN Norman, a thing she was quite used to by this time, she followed Frances up the stairs. As she opened the door Frances put her arm lovingly about her waist and said: "Look, darling!" The bed, chaise-longue, chairs and every other available piece of furniture in the room was covered with baby clothes, of the daintiest materials, all ex- quisitely hand made and embroidered. If a young king were expected the outfit could not have been more lavish or more beautiful. It was enough to make anyone open eyes in astonishment and stare. Norah was staring; staring straight ahead of her with eyes filled with horror. She began to tremble violently and it was then that Frances looked at her. Back she drew, frightened at what she saw. Norah's face was white as death itself. Her eyes were black with rage. Brushing Frances aside none too gently, she rushed into the room and in a fury tore the things from where they lay, spread out on exhibition, to toss them into a heap upon the floor. "Take them out of here!" she screamed. "Out of my sight, every one of them, and never let me see them again!" "Why, Norah, darling " Frances was as white as she, and stood shaking in the doorway. "Don't you dare to 'darling' me!" Norah's scream rose to a shriek. "I hate you! I hate you! Don't come near me ! Don't touch me ! I don't know what I'd do " "Oh, Norah! Norah!" Tears streamed down Frances' cheeks. She was so bewildered she could not inquire what had happened. Never for one moment did it occur to her never had it occurred to THE LOSING GAIN 207 her that she might have engendered resentment by any of her well-meaning proffers. She, too, had had such happiness in selecting the poor, little mistreated layette; not because of the baby so much, however, as the hope she had of pleasing Norah. She could guess nothing of the long pent-up feelings that now had burst in explosive wrath on her own devoted head. She could only set down the emotional dis- play to physical reasons which she knew might take any unreasonable course with a woman in Norah's condition, but of which she knew nothing. "Oh, Norah!" she cried again. "What has hap- pened to you, dear? Is there anything wrong with the clothes I selected -?" "That's it! That's it! You selected you! What right had you to dare to rob me of my greatest joy?" A light broke on the sister-in-law's consciousness. "Oh, if I had only known, dear," she begged, "I would so gladly have taken you with me. I wou ld "You would have taken me? What have you to do with it?" Even in her unappeased rage Norah saw that every word she uttered went straight to Frances' heart, and yet like an enraged tigress she felt glory in the pain she was causing. "This was something that belonged entirely to me to me ! Do you understand? To me alone and yet you have dared to steal it from me! You're a thief, Frances Rogers, a thief! Do you hear me? I'll never for- give you for this as long as I live!" "Oh! Oh, my God!" Frances gasped. She sank to the floor, a little crushed heap, sobbing through her pain-bruised lips. 208 THE LOSING GAIN Norah only stood and looked at her. No attempt to move did she make. As if turned to stone she stood there, but in her stony, enraged eyes there was no pity for the pathetic figure upon the floor. What could have happened to her always so sweet and gentle; she who could never bear even to think of anyone suffering that she could stand there now and not find it in her heart to utter one kindly word? If anything the scene before her only seemed to en- rage her more. "For days I have thought of nothing else but my baby's outfit," she went on, her voice tense and chilled. "At night I have lain awake planning it, long after Norman had fallen asleep. I was going into town to-morrow all by myself to to buy it and now " She ended in a heartbroken wail as she sank to the couch. For rage at last had spent itself, but it had taken something out of Norah Rogers that nothing could bring back. When Frances finally managed to pull herself to- gether, she went quietly from the room, without at- tempting to go near Norah, who was still sobbing on the couch where she had thrown herself. Frances forced herself to reach the telephone to call her brother and ask him to come home. "Has anything happened?" he asked anxiously. "Norah isn't very well, but it's nothing serious."' She could not keep the agitation from her voice, however. "I'll come at once," he answered. When Norman arrived, Frances met him at the door and took him into the living room, where she told him what had happened. She didn't spare her- self in the least; nor did she tell him of all the THE LOSING GAIN f09 terrible things Norah had said to her. That was not in Frances Rogers; her years, heritage, training, had given her a bigness that is characteristic of fine women. She told him how Norah had resented her buying the baby clothes and how she had worked herself into a rage over it. She feared it might re- sult in an illness, so she had telephoned him. "Fm glad you did," he answered. "I'll go to her at once." Upon entering his wife's room, Norman was sur- prised to find her sitting in a rocker by the window. She had bathed her eyes, smoothed her hair and obliterated all traces of the scene of two hours be- fore. In a corner of the room stood the boxes from Magnln's, packed and tied. "I came home a little earlier than usual, darling," he said as he stooped to kiss her. "I'm glad you did, Norman," she said. "I want to talk to you." He drew up a chair and sat down beside her. "Norman, did Frances tell you what happened to-day?" "Yes, dear, she did, and I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. I never dreamt for a moment that you would feel that way about it." "Then you knew that Frances was going to do this?" She did not seem greatly surprised, but her realization came dully, in words resigned. "Why, yes; I asked her to do it. You see, darling, I wanted to spare you from any tiresome exertion." "Norman, did you actually think buying my baby's layette would be a tiresome exertion?" "You put it to me so strangely, dear," he flushed. "Probably it is some of my masculine stupidity 210 THE LOSING GAIN shopping to me is always more or less of an exer- tion." "Norman " Norah's hesitation was for minutes as her mind groped about for words in