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 ROBERT SWASEY
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER
 
 " I want you to know you have got to know that I 
 love you. " FRONTISPIECE. See page 185.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBERT SWASEY 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE BY 
 
 RALPH P. COLEMAN 
 
 NON-REFERT 
 
 1 
 
 ens 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1922
 
 Copyright, 1922, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND, COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Published February, 1922
 
 TO 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 2138283
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Conversation around the dinner table in the 
 Kendall home had not been flowing with its usual 
 ease; and a remark from the gentleman whom Flor- 
 ence Wainwright, the hostess, had met for the first 
 time that evening, to the effect that he always liked 
 lavender gowns on ladies, "especially the color of 
 the one you have on which suits you first-rate" 
 referring thus directly to Mrs. Wainwright and 
 what she was wearing caused a distinct pause in 
 the proceedings. There had been a number of these 
 pauses; and Max Kendall, Florence's brother, was 
 beginning to wish that he had not invited Jim De- 
 lane, his partner in business, to dinner with him- 
 self and his sister at their Marlborough Street home. 
 
 Mrs. Wainwright, who looked extremely well in 
 her pale violet gown and not a day older than thirty- 
 five, which was her age, rose to the occasion with 
 a quietly murmured, "It is a pretty color, isn't it?" 
 realizing at the same time that however clever this 
 good-looking young man might be in a business way, 
 he certainly had much to learn in the sixth, or 
 social, sense. 
 
 The little group at the table consisted of Florence
 
 2 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Wainwright, her brother Max, Constance Floyd, 
 who was a friend of Florence, and Delane. Mrs. 
 Wainwright had purposely arranged not to have 
 anything like a formal dinner party for the night 
 her brother should bring Delane to the house, as 
 neither of them was too sure of what impres- 
 sion the gentleman might make when taken out of 
 his milieu, which was business spelled with a capital 
 "B." This was the first time that Mrs. Wain- 
 wright had met the young man of whom she had 
 heard so much, and her misgivings were proving 
 correct. Delane was good-humored, good-looking 
 in a usual sort of way; and his manners did not 
 belie his looks. He -meant what he said, but in his 
 embarrassment he became a trifle more emphatic in 
 his effort to please than is considered strictly good 
 form in the most correct circles. 
 
 "I don't mean to say," began Miss Floyd, to break 
 the pause which had followed Delane's last remark, 
 "that you don't try to seek and remedy the causes 
 of poverty; but I think it is too much outside the 
 grasp of your usual course of life for you to do 
 much to alleviate the evil by merely stirring up the 
 surface." 
 
 This was in reference to something that had been 
 said about Mrs. Wainwright's work in the slums. 
 
 "So you think my visits to the South End cause 
 only a ripple on the surface," Florence laughed. 
 
 "Yes, I am afraid I do," Miss Floyd returned. 
 
 "Why be afraid?" Max Kendall put in. "It is 
 just what I have been telling Florence for a year.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 3 
 
 I wish she would chuck the whole thing. Would 
 you believe it," he went on, turning to Delane, "that 
 this pretty sister of mine has been out the whole 
 afternoon in this outrageous weather trying to locate 
 an old woman in some back alley with seventeen 
 children." 
 
 "Seven, my dear," Florence interrupted. 
 
 "It's all the same," Max continued. "You get 
 just as wet hunting up seven children as seventeen." 
 
 "But how do you hear of these weird places?" 
 Miss Floyd asked. 
 
 "I am working at present with a committee on the 
 housing problem," Florence replied quite seriously. 
 "Since the overcrowded condition of our cities has 
 existed and the lack of available living quarters, 
 there is a congestion and cramming of tenements 
 and lodging houses which is not only very bad from 
 the point of view of health but rather dangerous 
 as far as the morals of the community are con- 
 cerned." 
 
 Florence, coming home late to dinner with very 
 wet feet and considerably tired as she herself con- 
 fessed had caused a discussion as to just how much 
 of real service a person situated in life as Mrs. 
 Wainwright was could be in settlement house or 
 social welfare work. 
 
 For a year, ever since her return from France, 
 she had been devoting herself with untiring faith to 
 the cause of the poor; and the longer she worked 
 in the slums and the better she knew the conditions, 
 the more lively became her enthusiasm. At first it
 
 4 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 had been merely a question of something to divert 
 her mind after her four years of hospital work in 
 the war and her husband's death at the front. Like 
 many other women, she could not slip back from 
 the arduous labors and unceasing work of the past 
 few years into the idleness and pettiness of ordinary 
 everyday life. From conducting sewing classes at 
 one of the mission schools and teaching girls to read 
 the English language, Florence had gone on steadily 
 to the really bigger phases of settlement-house work; 
 and at this time she was carrying on investigations, 
 in connection with committees in other large cities, 
 as to the matter of adequate and proper housing of 
 the poor, a thing becoming every day more im- 
 portant as city populations swelled and houses dwin- 
 dled to the vanishing point. There was extra 
 work for her now due to the enormous amount of 
 unemployment which was the direct result of ruth- 
 less profiteering on the part of manufacturers, caus- 
 ing a tremendous overstocking of goods of every 
 description which the public either had refused or 
 been unable to purchase at the prevailing high 
 prices. 
 
 The former years of Florence Kendall's life had 
 been very different from the activities of her pres- 
 ent days. She had been married under the hap- 
 piest circumstances to a man who worshiped her. 
 Jack Wainwright and his wife went to Paris to 
 live. Florence had been educated in France, and as 
 Wainwright's business called him there, the situa- 
 tion was a very pleasant one for both of them.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 5 
 
 They settled down in what one might call connubial 
 bliss, in spite of the fact that no children appeared 
 on the scene; but of course that has nothing to do 
 in these progressive days with happiness in the mar- 
 ried state. But the happy life in Paris, like a 
 thousand other similar arrangements, was all to 
 end in the cataclysm of the war. Jack had taken 
 up the study of aviation in the early days of that 
 sport. Florence opposed it, thinking flying far too 
 dangerous to be indulged in for mere fun of the 
 thing, much as one plays tennis or golf. Wain- 
 wright, however, went into the sport head over heels, 
 which was literally true, as he became something of 
 an expert in the flying game. Then the war began ; 
 and it was a very quick step, or rather flight, into 
 the serious business of the aviation corps. The 
 always dashing and exceedingly good-looking Jack 
 made a very smart officer as a member of the La- 
 fayette Escadrille; and his wife was duly proud of 
 him. Of course the dangers of flying seemed much 
 more remote to her when one was up in the air 
 With bombs and things whizzing about than in the 
 old days when she held her breath as her husband 
 calmly sailed over the Bois de Boulogne and the 
 suburbs beyond. Florence, meantime, had become 
 a nurse; first at the big hospital at Neuilly-sur- 
 Seine and later in the ones nearer the battle front. 
 Towards the end of the war she had known the 
 harrowing work of the advanced dressing stations. 
 And it was not until nearly the end of the war that 
 Jack Wainwright was killed when flying at night
 
 6 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 over the German lines. Florence was inconsolable. 
 In the old days before 1914 she probably would have 
 collapsed. Instead, after the Armistice she re- 
 turned to Paris and tried to pick up the threads of 
 her life in some small way, still doing valuable 
 work of one sort or another for the war sufferers. 
 But the recollection of the happy times in Paris was 
 too keen. Besides, she remembered that her brother, 
 also returned from service, was at home alone 
 in the old Marlborough Street house. She felt 
 that her place was in Boston, her duty to be met 
 there rather than in the varied and extended work 
 which she might continue to do in France. 
 
 In the spring of 1919 she came back to America 
 and settled down with her brother. Florence's par- 
 ents had been dead many years, and it seemed a 
 pleasant and wholly desirable arrangement that she 
 should make a home for her bachelor brother. The 
 first few months in Boston, however, had been very 
 dreary for her. She did not care to go about so- 
 cially, and Max Kendall had never been inclined to 
 that sort of thing. And then Florence realized how 
 difficult it was to go from an active life of high 
 purpose with the enthralling work that went with 
 it, into a life the purpose of which, however high, 
 had as its only expression long evenings by the 
 fireside with Max or an informal party and game of 
 bridge, both things meaning rather fearful boredom 
 to the young widow. Her nerves, like the nerves 
 of so many other women fresh from war work, had 
 not stopped vibrating. Would the nerves of any
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 7 
 
 one ever calm down again to the old placidity of 
 life? Florence had friends who dabbled in social 
 service work at the Peabody House and other sim- 
 ilar institutions. She became interested in their 
 pursuits. From that she had gone on to her pres- 
 ent labors, which took nearly every moment of her 
 time and filled her life with a new incentive. 
 
 To-night, the rather -superficial Constance Floyd 
 had insisted that Florence had not got any deeper 
 into the matter in spite of her enthusiasm. Miss 
 Floyd belonged to that large group of persons who 
 think the poor cannot be assisted from without; 
 any lasting effect upon their condition must be an 
 outgrowth from within. 
 
 "But the poor cannot help themselves," Florence 
 pleaded. 
 
 "You will admit they are their own worst en- 
 emies," Miss Floyd went on. 
 
 "Yes; and who of us is not?" Max put in, com- 
 ing to the aid of his sister. 
 
 "The condition of poverty is something inside a 
 man," Delane said. 
 
 Max and Miss Floyd looked at each other, smil- 
 ing, wondering how Florence would take this. 
 
 Delane continued, "I mean one .man is inclined 
 to poverty just as another chap has the strength of 
 character anti will power which keep him on the top 
 of things. Of course you can buy coal and wood 
 for the down-and-outs and teach the children to 
 wash their faces, but how are you going to alter 
 any one's character by doing that?"
 
 8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "It seems to me that in these days of the high 
 cost of living, people like ourselves are the only real 
 down-and-outs," Max interrupted. 
 
 "It is like this," Delane began again. "You 
 know lots of men who lounge about clubs and are 
 able to do little more than spend their income; but 
 their friends say they are jolly good fellows. Well, 
 the loafer that used to sit half the evening in the 
 corner saloon over his five-cent glass of beer and 
 dirty sheet of newspaper is your club man of the 
 slums. They are birds of a feather." 
 
 After the difficulty which Delane had had earlier 
 in the evening with the small talk of the dinner 
 table, it was very interesting to Max to hear him 
 coming out with such definite ideas. He looked 
 across at his sister with an approving expression, 
 "You see, in spite of your notion of him, this 
 friend and partner of mine is not such a bore as 
 you thought him." 
 
 "It is simply my own personal belief that little 
 can be done in curing this disease of poverty while 
 the souls of men are what they are," Miss Floyd 
 said suddenly, having a feeling that Delane was 
 about to walk off with her own pet theory, and that 
 it was quite time for her to get back into the con- 
 versation. She had not cared much for Mr. Delane 
 since he made the "-faux pas" about Florence's gown. 
 
 "Then it is our business to change the souls of 
 men," Florence replied. 
 
 "How are you going to do it?" Max asked. 
 "Never, in my opinion, by merely building better
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 9 
 
 homes for the bodies of men and giving them purer 
 food and warmer clothing." 
 
 "Cheaper food would be more to the point," 
 Delane broke in. 
 
 "But aren't we what we are on account of the 
 generations of suitable environment which we have 
 had?" Florence asked. "It is monstrous to say 
 that improving the actual living conditions of peo- 
 ple does not better the people themselves." 
 
 "Some of us are very little better because of our 
 environment," Delane said quietly. "You often 
 hear of sons of excellent families who go smash be- 
 cause their souls aren't right." 
 
 Florence looked quickly at her friend Constance. 
 This was awkward ground, as Miss Floyd's life 
 had been nearly ruined by a scapegrace brother who 
 squandered the family money and after a wild ca- 
 reer on both sides of the Atlantic passed into obliv- 
 ion somewhere on the shores of the Mediterranean. 
 
 "But those cases can have little to do with pro- 
 viding soup kitchens for the poor," Miss Floyd said, 
 laughing. 
 
 "You are very old-fashioned, my dear," Florence 
 put in. "Since the closing of the saloons, soup kit- 
 chens have become almost a relic of the past. Even 
 some of the cheap lodging houses the hotels where 
 the homeless man of former days could obtain a bed 
 for twenty-five cents have closed down because of 
 lack of patronage." 
 
 "I am very glad to hear it," Miss Floyd replied, as 
 the little group arose from the dinner table. "It
 
 io KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 makes one believe that we are approaching the mil- 
 lenium, does it not ?" 
 
 The tone of sarcasm in her voice displeased De- 
 lane who, struck with admiration for Mrs. Wain- 
 wright, felt he must take up the cudgels in her de- 
 fense. 
 
 "We will never get there," he said, "until every 
 one takes hold, the lookers-on as well as the 
 workers." 
 
 Over the coffee in the drawing-room the conversa- 
 tion took a lighter turn ; and then Kendall went with 
 Delane into his study to talk over some business mat- 
 ters. These two men were so absorbed in the subject 
 of land development in a certain outlying district of 
 the city that their thoughts, whether in the daytime 
 or after office hours at night, seldom roamed from 
 the topic. 
 
 A franchise was discussed which was likely to be 
 granted by the next legislature to a certain railway 
 company, in order that this company might lay its 
 tracks through the place where the land holdings 
 were-. Crofton, whom Delane mentioned, was a 
 member of the State legislature from Boston; an 
 Irishman with an unlimited gift of talk which, in 
 combination with a massive lower jaw, had won for 
 him many causes political and otherwise. Delane 
 stood well with the Crofton crowd, and Max was 
 trusting largely to his influence in this quarter to 
 bring the matter of the franchise to a successful con- 
 clusion. After a most promising talk and feeling 
 that things never had looked brighter for them, Ken-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER u 
 
 dall opened a bottle of Scotch which he had ob- 
 tained a few days before through the channels which 
 have become so popular in these dry days for the 
 sale and traffic in liquor. 
 
 Miss Floyd, left alone with Florence, wanted to 
 know more about Delane. She had heard in a 
 vague sort of way about Max going into business 
 with a very rich and successful person who, it was 
 supposed, would accomplish great things. Like 
 Florence, she had never met him until to-night. 
 
 "How did Max happen to know him?" she asked. 
 
 "It was one of those things that just happened," 
 Florence said. "A year ago wie were in an awful 
 hole financially. Max owned a big piece of land in 
 one of the suburbs which was not developing, and 
 he did not have the money to do anything with it by 
 himself. The taxes were an awful drain on our 
 already diminished resources ; and as Max was unable 
 to sell, things looked pretty black. At one time 
 we thought we must give up this place." 
 
 Miss Floyd gave a little gasp of sympathy at 
 the possibility of such a dreadful event, as the 
 Kendall house on Marlborough Street was distinctly 
 one of the substantial homes of the city, and the 
 Kendalls themselves no less substantial in the 
 Boston world. 
 
 Mrs. Wainwright continued, "T.hen Delane 
 appeared on the scene, very rich and ready to go in 
 with Max in this land scheme. Of course I did not 
 know him, but I have told my brother it was only 
 decent to ask him to the house some night even if
 
 12 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 there is bound to be very little in common between 
 us outside of the business connection." 
 
 "Surely there were men of Max's own class who 
 would have furnished him with the necessary cap- 
 ital," Constance interrupted. 
 
 "Possibly," Florence answered. "But those men 
 seldom dare to take big risks and have not always the 
 proper influences to pull through such schemes as 
 this. Delane, being an Irishman, has power in the 
 political world. He expects to get an electric car 
 line put through this property, which of course will 
 mean its success." 
 
 "I see," Constance remarked vaguely; "Max and 
 Delane hold the land together." 
 
 "Yes, I believe so," Florence continued. "My 
 brother had to mortgage it to Delane, owing to 
 his financial straits; but it is a sort of partnership, 
 and the two men will share equally in the profits. 
 It looks most promising at present. They have 
 taken an office in State Street and are known as the 
 Greenvale Holding Company. Greenvale is the 
 name of the new settlement. Just now the place is 
 a wide tract of gray barren land with the usual de- 
 jected appearance of the outskirts of a great city; 
 scarcely a green vale, as Max says there isn't a blade 
 of grass on the premises, the whole thing being a 
 wilderness of ash cans and stagnant pools of water; 
 but all that will be changed, and the desert will blos- 
 som." 
 
 "I certainly hope so," Miss Floyd said a little 
 dubiously, thinking to herself that a place as dismal
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 13 
 
 as the one her friend had described might need a 
 good deal of blossoming before the dividends would 
 grow. 
 
 There was a pause. Then Florence said, "It 
 was largely on this account that the prospects look 
 so bright now that Max wanted to have Delane 
 here." 
 
 "But I should think anything Max wants to do for 
 him in the social line could be managed at his club." 
 
 "Oh, he has done a lot in that way. Max got him 
 into one of his clubs. Delane is rather liked on State 
 Street; men don't object to his sort of gaucherie." 
 
 "I suppose his family is quite impossible," Miss 
 Floyd pursued. 
 
 "Probably," Florence answered. "He has a 
 mother and a very rich father in the tobacco bus- 
 iness. They spend their summers at an unfashion- 
 able place on Cape Cod. There is also a sister who 
 is a bit of a flyaway from what I have heard. Max 
 says his house in Dorchester is a model of every- 
 thing a house should not be. It is furnished and 
 decorated like a Pullman car." 
 
 "Thoroughly dull," Constance interposed. 
 
 "I don't deny it," Florence went on; "but we 
 must be nice to him. We must accept him for what 
 he is. You see it is a matter of bread and butter 
 for us." 
 
 Just then the two men came back. Florence had 
 a better chance now to really see Delane, as he stood 
 rather ill at ease in the middle of the room, not quite 
 sure which chair he would take or what he should
 
 i 4 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 say, than she had had during dinner, as he sat at her 
 side in the dimly lighted dining room. 
 
 Delane was tall and very straight and had dark 
 hair, rather curly over the forehead. His nose was 
 inclined to be retrousse, but his mouth and chin were 
 clean-cut and firm. In all, rather a good figure of 
 a man, with broad shoulders and well-built body. 
 His clothes were too aggressively smart to be exactly 
 in good taste, and the diamond ring on his hand and 
 diamond and pearl scarf-pin a little flamboyant ; but 
 these things belonged essentially to the type, 
 Delane suggested the large and brilliant effect both 
 in clothes and jewelry. 
 
 He sat down near Florence, while Miss Floyd 
 and Max chatted quietly in another part of the room. 
 
 "You and my brother are so closely connected in 
 your interests," Florence began, "that it is a pity we 
 have not seen you here before." 
 
 Delane, sitting very straight in his chair, smiled 
 broadly and said that he often had meant to come to 
 see Mrs. Wainwright. 
 
 "And how are things going?" Florence asked, re- 
 alizing that her only sure approach to this man 
 would be through the channel of his every-day af- 
 fairs. 
 
 "Never better," Delane replied with enthusiasm. 
 "It is marvelous what we are going to do with that 
 land." 
 
 "How wonderful it must be," Florence interposed, 
 "to have a great venture like yours to swing and to 
 see things going as you wish."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 15 
 
 "It certainly is," Delane said. "You see, our 
 land will take a great boom as soon as we get the 
 railway put through to it. The electric car line 
 stops now two and a half miles this side of Green- 
 vale. Of course, there is nothing doing until the 
 cars go out there." 
 
 "I should think not," Florence replied, trying to 
 seem as interested as possible. The details of this 
 land venture of her brother had always been rather 
 hazy to her. 
 
 "But we shall win out in the end, or my name is 
 not Jim Delane." 
 
 His easy assurance of the possibilities of the thing 
 were so typical of the man, and so little like Max, 
 who had from the first been reticent and unassum- 
 ing concerning the land he owned, that Florence was 
 somewhat annoyed. Certainly, confidence was nec- 
 essary it was through Delane' s faith in the scheme 
 that Max had been able to go forward but this at- 
 titude of Delane was so self-assured, so overcon- 
 fident, as it seemed to Florence, that she felt a little 
 insecure in the situation. 
 
 "But there must be obstacles to overcome," she 
 ventured. 
 
 "Obstacles? Certainly," Delane replied almost 
 brusquely. "But what are obstacles to two husky 
 young fellows like me and your brother? It is our 
 object to overcome them; to* make Greenvale a big, 
 hustling suburb." 
 
 There was a movement in the back part of the 
 room. Miss Floyd came forward to ask if she
 
 16 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 might go into the library and look at a new book 
 of war etchings. Evidently the social attack of 
 Delane was too much for her sensitive nature. 
 
 "Of course," Max said. "You will find the port- 
 folio in the drawer 'of the big table." 
 
 Miss Floyd disappeared with quiet nods to Flor- 
 ence and Delane. 
 
 "Do you really enjoy your settlement work?" 
 Delane asked, after a pause. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am quite absorbed in it," Florence 
 replied gayly. 
 
 "I am afraid," Ddane continued, "that all this 
 slumming business has very few attractions for me. 
 We had to change a tire on my machine the other 
 night over in one of those dirty streets where I sup- 
 pose your work takes you, and I assure you I was 
 glad when we got out. Such a gang of hoodlums 
 and thugs I never saw as gathered around my car." 
 
 Florence smiled placidly. No doubt there were 
 abysses in the man. She looked at Max a moment, 
 a certain feeling of pity coming over her that it had 
 been necessary for him to become associated with 
 Delane. How difficult it must be, she thought, in 
 spite of the fact that Max liked his partner and al- 
 ways said he was "a bully good sort." She would 
 try another tack. 
 
 "Do you care for music, Mr. Delane?" she asked. 
 "My friend Miss Floyd sings delightfully. Like 
 all amateurs, she pretends to be shy about it; but 
 perhaps we can persuade her to give us a song." 
 
 "I guess I don't know much about music beyond
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 17 
 
 what I get on the talking machine," Delane 
 responded. "My sister has got a mighty fine Vic- 
 trola made like a table in one of those French pe- 
 riods. It matches the furniture in our parlor at 
 home." 
 
 "But one may hear excellent music in that way," 
 Florence went on. 
 
 "Yes; you can if you want to. Ragtime suits 
 me best." 
 
 "I am with you there," Max put in. 
 
 There was an awkward pause while Delane sat 
 looking at Florence, completely taking her in, as it 
 were. He had no intention of rudeness, but his 
 very pleasure in the soft shining quality of her per- 
 sonality was so absorbing to him that he little real- 
 ized how his interest manifested itself in a too ap- 
 parent intentness. 
 
 The theater, which lately had offered Boston a 
 medley of plays dealing for the most part with bed- 
 rooms and mixed-up married couples the plots 
 often built around nothing more material than a 
 lost or stolen undergarment was touched upon by 
 Florence in her effort to lead the conversation and 
 stop Delane's contemplative admiration of herself; 
 but to little effect. It was not so much that Delane 
 was not responsive; but his eagerness to approach 
 each new topic with enthusiasm, however casual his 
 interest in it, struck the wrong note and made it 
 impossible for Florence to swing the situation with 
 ease. She would have been glad if Miss Floyd had 
 returned. The conversation dragged. A deadly
 
 i8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 dullness settled upon the room, which Max could do 
 little to lift, not being a fluent talker. 
 
 At last, looking at his watch, Delane jumped up. 
 
 "I have to meet my sister at ten o'clock at the 
 Back Bay station," he said. 
 
 After the formal leave-taking, a hearty grasp of 
 Kendall's hand and the wish, from Mrs. Wainwright 
 that he should come again to see them, Delane got 
 away and proceeded in a very new and elaborate 
 limousine to the station. On the way he thought 
 a good deal of the dinner party and his introduction 
 to Florence Wainwright. She represented to him 
 a totally new type of person. She was quite un- 
 like what he had supposed she would be. The sim- 
 plicity of her manner and graceful hospitality were 
 in direct contradiction to what had always been 
 his idea of so-called smart women, or, as he 
 would have said, "Swells." His experiences in 
 society had been mainly among over-dressed women 
 and loud-voiced men encountered in the social gath- 
 erings of certain friends of his sister. Florence 
 did not fit into that class of persons at all. He had 
 dreaded the visit to Maryborough Street and had 
 delayed it as long as he thought proper after Max's 
 suggestion that he should "drop in" some night. A 
 stereotyped picture of the "society lady" in the pre- 
 cincts of her home, familiar to him from novelettes 
 in the ten-cent all-story magazines, had caused this 
 dread of approach in the heart of the young finan- 
 cier. To find Mrs. Wainwright a most charming 
 person, without the slightest trace of affectation or
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 19 
 
 stand-offishness, was decidedly disconcerting, but 
 very pleasant indeed ; for now Delane felt he would 
 be able to go to the Kendall home as often as he 
 liked. Certainly, he thought, Mrs. Wainwright 
 meant it when she said that he must come to see her 
 again. Perhaps she would like his sister. But 
 here, turning into the cavernous vault of the station 
 and hearing the rumble of the train below, his 
 thoughts on the subject were interrupted; and he 
 hurried down the broad flight of stairs to the train 
 platform to greet his sister, returning resplendent in 
 furs and diamonds from a shopping trip to New 
 York. 
 
 It was necessary that a somewhat hearty supper 
 should be eaten at the large hotel near by before the 
 return home was undertaken, as Miss Delane had had 
 nothing since tea at the Biltmore, not being able to 
 abide dining cars. Jim Delane talked of Max and 
 Florence, especially of Florence ; and gave a rather 
 glowing picture of the hospitality shown him by the 
 Kendalls. 
 
 "We must have them out to the house some 
 night," Nora Delane said, as she looked over the 
 menu to find something to eat which should be suf- 
 ficiently showy and expensive. 
 
 "Yes," Jim said, "I was thinking about that. We 
 ought to entertain them in bang-up style." 
 
 "They probably won't come, though," continued 
 Miss Delane, a trifle disgusted at finding the simplest 
 things on the card so high in price that the time had 
 passed when you could splurge a bit by ordering a
 
 20 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 rather unusual dish. "They are all snobs at heart," 
 she went on. 
 
 "Not those two," Jim answered. "Max is a cork- 
 ing fellow. I know that from the way he has treated 
 me in our business relations; and that sister of his, 
 Mrs. Wainwright, is one fine girl." 
 "I suppose she had a swell gown on." 
 "Well, no, that's the funny part. Her dress was 
 pretty enough, but nothing like as nice as the things 
 you wear, Nora." 
 
 "I'll have to meet her, Jim." 
 "Sure; I'll take you over to see her some time." 
 The supper was finished, the motor called, and 
 Delane and his sister whirled back to Dorchester 
 in the mud and rain, splashing numerous people on 
 the way.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Florence was out early the next morning to join 
 the committee of three of the Housing Problem As- 
 sociation who were scheduled to inspect a group of 
 congested lodging houses in the South End of the 
 city. It was a matter somewhat different in char- 
 acter from the usual slum proposition, as this dis- 
 trict might be designated the underworld of the 
 slums. The comparatively healthy poor with their 
 hordes of children in the North End, a very densely 
 populated section, were in a different class from 
 these dwellers in lodging houses. There was a no- 
 ticeable lack of children in these quarters, and here 
 the smudge of poverty was emphasized by the smear 
 of immorality. 
 
 There were really six people to do this work, 
 the name "Committee of Three" arising from some 
 similar group which had carried on this branch of 
 investigation in New York. In Boston there was a 
 director of the matter in hand, called over from New 
 York especially for it; two experienced workers 
 from the Trumbull Square House in close consulta- 
 tion with the head; and Florence and two older 
 women from the Back Bay part of town who were 
 perhaps as zealous in their efforts as their more pro- 
 fessional associates, but who were considered rather
 
 22 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 in the light of interlopers by them, with the excep- 
 tion of Mrs. Wain wright whose complete seriousness 
 in the business had won for her the confidence of the 
 experienced men and women of the settlement 
 houses. 
 
 She joined the others about ten o'clock; and the 
 little party, breaking up into three divisions, pro- 
 ceeded to various addresses which the head of the 
 group had typed on sheets of rather dirty paper. 
 
 Florence and a young Harvard graduate from the 
 Trumbull Square House first visited number 10 
 Canticle Street. At one time this house had been a 
 fine mansion of the South End, and the laundry in 
 the basement and shoe-polishing parlors next door 
 did not wholly prevent the brown-stone front under 
 its present dinginess from giving a vague hint of its 
 better days. The landlady answered the questions 
 put to her in a surly manner, and it was with diffi- 
 culty that Florence and her companion elicited the 
 information that there were ten more people living 
 in the house than properly belonged there. All the 
 rooms seemed to be shared by three and sometimes 
 four persons, mostly shopgirls, telephone operators 
 and young men of varied occupations. The halls 
 were dark and narrow, and the fire escape at the back 
 of the house was in such a precarious condition that 
 Florence thought death by suffocation would be 
 preferable to a descent down its hazardous steps. 
 
 Other houses in this neighborhood were gone 
 through, always in the face of the opposition of the 
 landladies, sometimes most graphically expressed.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 23 
 
 It was noticeable that none of these houses contained 
 a parlor or reception room of any sort where a girl 
 might receive her friends. No wonder, thought 
 Florence, that the streets of our cities are crowded at 
 night by loafers and street walkers. The hall bed- 
 room hurls its occupant into the street and none too 
 seldom to the gutter. One landlady, upon being 
 asked if it were not possible to set aside a room on 
 the ground floor for the general use of her lodger's, 
 said giving Mrs. Wainwright a sidelong glance 
 full of meaning that the people living in her house 
 were not "swells" but plain working girls who paid 
 for a room and did not get more than they paid for. 
 Florence looked down the dirty street and went on 
 to the next place. Mr. Wyman, the young college 
 graduate, made copious notes after each investiga- 
 tion. In figures and comparison of statistics he 
 seemed to take great comfort, constantly mention- 
 ing police laws regulating the matter of adequate 
 fire protection or the placing of bathrooms and num- 
 ber of persons to a room; and Florence was amazed 
 at the limited scope of his vision which did not appear 
 to go beyond the closely written pages of his note- 
 book. To her the significance of the matter lay in 
 another direction. The appalling outcome of our 
 civilization in the way life is stripped bare of amuse- 
 ment and diversion for the masses, was never more 
 apparent to her than in the stuffy corridors of these 
 cheap lodging houses. There seemed to be nothing 
 for the dwellers in these places but the moving- 
 picture theaters and the streets; and the "movies,"
 
 24 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 catering nearly always to the primitive emotions, 
 only served the most transient needs of man in his 
 search for amusement and diversion. The saloons 
 had been taken away from the men, to the advan- 
 tage of many of them, it must be admitted, but what 
 would be given in their place? To Florence it 
 seemed as though civilization were so intent at the 
 present time in making mankind better that it had 
 quite overlooked the fact that entertainment is no 
 small function of society. 
 
 At one particular house which advertised rooms 
 for transients and where the negro in charge would 
 not vouchsafe a word of information other than 
 that she had fulfilled all the police regulations and 
 would on no account show them through the prem- 
 ises, both Florence and Mr. Wyman realized at once 
 that the lodgers here were not the sort that came un- 
 der their particular investigations at the present 
 time. As they were standing on the doorstep a little 
 undecided as to whether they would go to luncheon 
 now it was after one or continue their 'work a bit 
 longer, a reddish-haired girl in a dark street dress 
 came out of the house. She looked curiously at the 
 couple as she came slowly down the steep flight of 
 steps; and as she passed Florence, half turned and 
 smiled. 
 
 "Didn't they have a room for you, dearie?" she 
 asked. "Try number 25." 
 
 There was something about the face of the girl 
 with its rather soft white skin and bright eyes that 
 caused Florence to smile back at her. Before she
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 25 
 
 realized whether she wanted to speak or not, she had 
 said, "Do you live here ?" 
 
 Young Wyman was obviously embarrassed and 
 started to say something to Florence about going to 
 lunch, when the girl, still smiling pleasantly, turned 
 quickly to him and said, "Nix on the lunch, kid. 
 Can't you see the lady has asked me a question?" 
 Then, speaking to Mrs. Wainwright again with the 
 same bright manner, "No, I don't live here; but I 
 stayed here last night. 
 
 Wyman, more ill at ease than ever, went down the 
 remaining steps to the sidewalk. Florence and the 
 girl stood looking at each other. 
 
 "Who's your friend, dearie?" she asked, winking 
 toward the retreating figure. 
 
 Florence, not heeding the question, said, "Is your 
 home in this neighborhood?" 
 
 The girl laughed at this and replied that she had a 
 room near by. 
 
 "I share one with a friend over in the next street. 
 Say," she went on with a sudden inspiration, "if she 
 ain't there now, you and yer young man can have it 
 for a dollar." 
 
 This was the finishing stroke for Wyman, who 
 now turned around quickly from his meditation of 
 the curbstone. 
 
 "We had better go to luncheon, Mrs. Wain- 
 wright," he said; "you look fearfully tired." 
 
 "Here, kid," the girl broke in, coming down to the 
 sidewalk, "don't try to put any of that 'Mrs.' busi- 
 ness over on me."
 
 26 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Good-by," Florence said, as she joined her com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Good-by. So you don't want the room?" she 
 called after them as they hurried away. 
 
 The girl stood a moment watching them. 
 
 "That's damned queer!" she finally said, and 
 turned on her heel and started off down the street. 
 
 Florence went home to luncheon, having agreed to 
 join the committee of three for further rambles in 
 the afternoon. The streets were hot and close, and 
 as she walked along, she felt very tired and dirty, 
 a physical feeling of uncleanliness having taken hold 
 of her, due probably to the moral swamps through 
 which her mind had wandered that morning. The 
 work was very taxing at times ; Florence was by no 
 means strong, and it was this fact that so often had 
 created astonishment in her brother that she should 
 wish to proceed in her reforming efforts with so 
 much zeal. This noon especially her task seemed 
 almost hopeless. The character of the South End 
 houses and the brief scene with the girl had had a 
 depressing effect. Certainly in all this situation 
 something was needed beside investigations and com- 
 mittee reports, something beyond laws not to do this 
 a'nd not to do that and the various lodging-house acts. 
 The moral nature of people must be changed. 
 
 The (work in the afternoon consisted largely of 
 talk, discussions among the various members of 
 the committee as to what was to be done with all the 
 statistics and material they had gathered. A con- 
 stant reference to the authority vested in the police
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 27 
 
 appeared to be the rock upon which the committee 
 placed its faith. When Florence finally left the 
 group about five o'clock and stood waiting for the 
 car which would take her home, she had a curious 
 feeling that the gloom hanging over this part of town 
 was somehow heavier and more depressing than any- 
 thing she had known in the battle zone of France. 
 At one time she had worked very near the front and 
 had experienced what it was like to be actually under 
 fire. But she had never felt then anything like the 
 gloom that seemed to come down and almost smother 
 her as she stood now on this street corner. Over 
 there, in the midst of the horror and disorder, dirt 
 and death, she had felt an uplift, a courage that 
 came with her duties ; but here it took a tremendous 
 amount of courage to keep her going on with her 
 work. 
 
 There was mud, mud, mud everywhere. The 
 streets oozed with the black, slimy stuff, and the side- 
 walk, where many sticky feet had left imprints, 
 looked like a part of the roadway. Near the electric 
 car tracks the cobblestones were broken and irregu- 
 kr, and puddles of water glistened, reflecting the 
 cold blue arc light above. Even the houses them- 
 selves had a muddy aspect, which was their usual ap- 
 pearance in this section of town. The bricks were 
 blackened by the accumulated dirt of the neighbor- 
 hood ; and the effect of murky dreariness was height- 
 ened by the gloom produced by the structure of the 
 elevated railway which, like a black serpent, hung 
 over the road. On the best of days little light could
 
 28 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 get into the street, shrouded by this hideous, curving 
 snake of iron which belched forth thunderous trains 
 at frequent intervals, adding to the din of drays and 
 cars below. But to-day was the worst of days, and 
 the very air breathed mud and filth and smoke and 
 slime. The street was packed with heavy carts 
 driven by cursing drivers who hurled their impre- 
 cations in broken English at things and people get- 
 ting- in their way. 
 
 "Look what you're about, you slob!" a girl cried 
 in a shrill voice, as she hesitated between two wag- 
 ons, and the driver of one of the wagons spat down 
 almost upon her. 
 
 "Excuse me dearie," the man on the cart answered, 
 grinning at the girl and watching her feet and ankles 
 as she went on. 
 
 "I'll dearie you, if you don't look what you're 
 about," the girl mumbled, hurrying through an open- 
 ing in the traffic. 
 
 She crossed over near Florence and passed by 
 rapidly, not recognizing her acquaintance of a few 
 hours before on the door stoop of the house. But 
 Florence saw at once that it was the same girl 
 who had spoken to her and had tried to aid her in 
 a rather ambiguous situation. 
 
 She was slight and short; had rather reddish- 
 yellow hair, and wore a dark suit and small black 
 hat on the side of which was a red wing of some- 
 what faded plumage. Her dress was smartly cut 
 but dirty around the bottom, and the jacket was 
 wrinkled and slightly spotted on the collar and
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 29 
 
 cuffs. She was not essentially pretty, yet her face 
 was so absolutely without character and her skin so 
 white that the effect was pleasing in a negative sort 
 of way. The features were regular, although the 
 nose was too small for the rather large eyes and 
 mouth. One would have been inclined to say it was 
 a pretty face, if one noticed it at all. 
 
 Mrs. Wainwright decided to follow her a bit to 
 see where she was going. The girl walked on rap- 
 idly through the crowd of men and boys, most of 
 them workmen who were all going in the opposite 
 direction to herself. The sidewalk was narrow, and 
 it was difficult at times to get through the crush of 
 people. It was also difficult for Florence to keep 
 in sight of the person she was following. No one 
 took any notice of her or of the girl a few paces in 
 front, who in her turn scarcely glanced at the many 
 faces about her. At a corner where there was a 
 block of traffic, she had to stop a moment on the curb- 
 stone. A young fellow of about eighteen, smoking 
 a cigarette, ambled out from a group of men stand- 
 ing in a doorway. 
 
 "Hello, Grade," he said, "I ain't seen you this 
 long time." 
 
 "That ain't my fault," the girl answered, hardly 
 looking at the boy, who stared at her with a simp- 
 ering smile on his face. 
 
 "I seen Jim Breen yesterday," the boy went on, 
 shoving his hands into his pockets and looking 
 down at the gutter where a thick mass of slimy 
 mud, filled with cigarette butts and small pieces of
 
 3 q KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 paper, was slowly finding its way into the sewer 
 grating. 
 
 But the girl made no answer; she did not even 
 glance at her companion, and was off across the 
 street. The boy smiled, spat out the butt of his 
 cigarette, and joined the group in the doorway, 
 seemingly the entrance to a pool room which, like 
 most places of the sort, had become in prohibition 
 days the headquarters for the old gangs which used 
 to hang over the bars of the saloons. 
 
 It had begun to rain; not a real downpour but just 
 a quiet drizzle which made the dense air of the street 
 seem denser and hotter than ever. The girl who 
 had been addressed as Gracie hurried on. She had 
 no umbrella, but evidently did not mind the rain. It 
 was her habit to walk fast, and she was hurrying 
 now, not because she' wanted to get out of the wet 
 or found herself late for an engagement, but merely 
 through force of habit. Her destination was 
 Umber's Cafe, where the dispensing of imitation 
 beer and stale sandwiches went on daily to a rather 
 shrunken patronage as compared with the time when 
 the lights of this district burned red and late. 
 
 Florence, who had walked much farther than she 
 intended, suddenly felt rather tired and faint; so 
 when the girl turned into the door of Umber's, she 
 went in also, taking a seat in the front part of the 
 restaurant with her back to the room. Gracie in- 
 variably arrived at Umber's somewhere in the neigh- 
 borhood of six o'clock. When she entered the cafe
 
 to-night, it was evident she was an habitue of the 
 place; and a very young, white-faced head waiter 
 in a bedraggled dress suit and dirty shirt front, 
 said, "Well, here's Grade" in the tone of voice with 
 which he might have ordered a chicken sandwich. 
 Gracie sat down alone, facing the doorway, at a table 
 in the back part of the room. 
 
 This room, on the ground floor of the building, 
 was long and narrow; at the front were various 
 iron grill works, a hanger for hats and coats, and 
 the cashier's desk. The tables at the back were 
 the most popular, being near a battered upright 
 piano upon which nightly from eight to ten a lad of 
 twenty played accompaniments for another youth 
 of his own age, who sang very badly in a kind of 
 falsetto tenor voice. The ceiling of the restaurant 
 was low and was decorated with a green lattice 
 broken in many places, from which drooped branches 
 of dull green and red autumn leaves made of some 
 coarse canvas material. The unnatural color of 
 these leaves and their die-away, drooping manner 
 gave to Umber's a melancholy appearance, although 
 the decorations in question had been put there with 
 the evident idea of transforming a prosaic eating 
 house into a grotto of some sort. The walls were 
 dull brown, and extending half-way down from the 
 top was a border of wall paper depicting faded 
 purple lilacs growing upon a green trellis. The 
 lilacs and autumn leaves, dependent from the trellis, 
 was certainly an extraordinary effect unfortunately 
 lost upon the patrons of Umber's.
 
 32 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 After Gracie sat down, one of the waitresses 
 who were under the direction of the young gentle- 
 man of the soiled shirt front, came up to the table. 
 
 "Ain't it awful weather," she said. 
 
 "I don't let the weather bother me," Gracie an- 
 swered without looking up. "Seen Tommy to- 
 night?" she added. 
 
 "No, she's not in yet," the waitress replied, look- 
 ing about the room vaguely as though the said 
 Tommy might have come in during the interval 
 her back was turned. She continued to stand by 
 Gracie's table, her hands on her hips, looking out 
 toward the door. Neither of the women spoke. 
 But Gracie's gaze, following that of the waitress, 
 spied Florence down by the door. 
 
 In the meantime, Florence, who was feeling very 
 tired and rather chilly, had ordered a cup of black 
 coffee. She would have liked a liqueur brandy, 
 knowing that this would revive her immediately; 
 but she never saw any hardship in the denial to 
 herself of such things as medicine while she could 
 be a witness every day to how much simpler the slum 
 proposition was becoming on account of the closing 
 of the saloons. 
 
 "Don't you feel well, dearie?" she suddenly 
 heard some one say close at her side. The voice 
 was familiar. She looked up. Gracie Linton was 
 standing by the table, smiling. 
 
 'I am a little faint, I think; but shall be all right 
 in a moment," Florence answered. Then added, 
 'Won't you sit down here?"
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 33 
 
 "Thanks, don't mind if I do," Grade promptly 
 replied, sitting down opposite Florence. 
 
 There was something rather kindly in the girl's 
 expression which appealed to Florence, as it had 
 done that forenoon when she met her on the steps. 
 
 "You do look pale," Gracie continued. "Ain't 
 you got any of them smelling salts? I always 
 thought people like you carried smelling salts around 
 with them in a gold mesh bag." 
 
 "What do you mean by 'people like me'?" Flor- 
 ence asked, sipping her coffee. 
 
 "Oh, well, of course I knew when I seen yer this 
 morning that you didn't belong to this part of 
 town. That's what made me feel awfully queer 
 running into yer on the steps of that old geezer's 
 house." 
 
 "I was there doing some work in connection with 
 my settlement house," Florence said, after a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "So you're one of them people that goes about 
 uplifting humanity," Gracie said, laughing. Then 
 added, more seriously, "I hope you ain't a female 
 agent of the U. S. Government on the trail of booze." 
 
 "I don't know that I can do much for the uplift 
 of humanity," Florence replied, also laughing; "but 
 I am very interested in all the people who live in this 
 part of the city and the conditions they have to 
 meet." 
 
 "Oh, you ain't that serious, really? And you 
 so fine looking and pretty. You had ought to take 
 things more easy. There's a lot of good times to
 
 34 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 be had still, in spite of the closing down of most of 
 the night joints. You see, the law can't take all 
 the pep out of life." 
 
 Florence paid her bill and started to go; but 
 here was something that interested her tremendously. 
 She often had wished to come face to face 
 on equal terms with a girl of the streets, to see if 
 she could get any insight into the state of mind which 
 causes these girls to lead the life they do, and to 
 find out if certain pet theories of hers in respect to 
 these things were true. There was no sentimen- 
 tality in Mrs. Wainwright's point of view. The 
 trouble always had been, she thought, that most of 
 the people who had attempted reforms in this par- 
 ticular line of social service work either had been 
 swept off their feet by sentiment or bound to the A. 
 B. C.'s of the police code. Gracie might be a good 
 subject for her. She was the sort of girl she would 
 like to watch for a little. She asked Gracie if she 
 might see her again, and where she lived. 
 
 Gracie told Florence her name and address, and 
 then added, "Awfully sorry yer ain't got time to 
 meet Tommy." 
 
 "Perhaps some other time I can meet him." 
 
 At this Gracie burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 "It ain't a him," she exclaimed. "Tommy's my 
 pal. She's late to-night, but is sure to drop in soon." 
 
 Mrs. Wainwright said good-by to Gracie and 
 started for home. She felt quite all right again, 
 and much braced in her state of mind; for in the 
 episode at Umber's Restaurant she had found the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 35 
 
 human note in her day's work which until this time 
 had seemed lacking in the maze of detail through 
 which she had plodded. 
 
 Gracie went back to her table at the end of the 
 room. There were only a few people -at Urrfber's at 
 this early hour of the evening. It was not the sort 
 of restaurant to which one usually goes to eat; at 
 least, it was formerly not that sort of place. But 
 since the public has turned to eating as one of the 
 few permitted pleasures of life evidenced by the 
 number of bars that have been made into cafeterias 
 and the rushing business they do many of the old 
 patrons of Umber's still came there to have a bite 
 and look about a bit. A few girls were always to 
 be seen there early in the evening, on the watch for 
 the possible sailor who had emptied a pint from his 
 hip pocket. There were also a certain number of 
 gentlemen of a rather sleek and prosperous appear- 
 ance who were said to do a good "bootlegging" 
 business in the men's wash room both at Umber's 
 and at other similar places down the street. 
 
 In the corner farthest from Gracie were two men 
 eating and talking. One of them, the younger, 
 was evidently drunk. His companion watched him 
 closely, now and then saying something to which 
 the younger man would reply excitedly and then re- 
 lapse into silence. Down by the door a girl sat 
 drinking some dark stuff from a small glass and 
 looking straight ahead of her, her elbows resting on 
 the edge of the table. Nearer Gracie, against the 
 Wall by which she was sitting, was a fat, red- faced
 
 36 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 man reading a newspaper and every few moments 
 looking up over it at her. By turning her gaze 
 directly upon the door, Gracie could see every time 
 the fat man looked at her without once seeming to 
 see him. 
 
 After a time the waitress said, "What'll yer 
 have?" 
 
 "Same old thing, I guess," Gracie answered; and 
 took out a little black purse she had in her pocket, 
 looked in it, and put it down with her handkerchief 
 on the table. 
 
 The same old thing was a bottle of Sarsaparilla 
 with which after a very long time the waitress re- 
 turned, coming slowly across the room, her feet 
 moving as though she were in a trance. The bottle 
 was opened in the same dreamlike manner and 
 placed on the table. 
 
 A little later a number of stragglers drifted in, 
 men looking very wet with their collars turned up. 
 Also, some girls in groups, one or two of whom nod- 
 ded to Gracie; one dark-haired girl came over and 
 asked her how she was and if Tommy had shown up. 
 A rather bedraggled sailor came in with a boy of 
 eighteen or thereabouts and sat near Gracie, who 
 looked across and smiled as the sailor turned to- 
 ward her. 
 
 Finally Tommy appeared, hurrying into the res- 
 taurant with a wet umbrella which the white- faced 
 head waiter took from her and deposited behind 
 the cashier's desk. Tommy stopped and bought 
 a box of cigarettes and then smiling upon every one
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 37 
 
 as she passed, went over and sat down at Grade's 
 table. 
 
 "I thought you weren't never coming," Gracie 
 said. 
 
 "Did you ever know me to fluke, girlie?" Tommy 
 answered, laughing. 
 
 There was something about her manner which 
 seemed to put new life into every one. The wait- 
 ress of the trancelike state came almost immediately 
 and asked Tommy what she would have; and the 
 head waiter approached with the menu, a large affair 
 with a blue-flowered bordef very much spotted and 
 stained, and the appearance of having been eaten 
 upon more often than consulted. 
 
 Tommy took the card, and scarcely looking at 
 it, ordered a tongue sandwich with plenty of mus- 
 tard on it and a cup of coffee. 
 
 "What'll yer have, Gracie?" she inquired of her 
 companion. 
 
 "Give me a chicken sandwich and a piece of apple 
 pie." 
 
 "Anything to drink?" the waitress asked. 
 
 "Why don't yer ask me if I'll have a diamond 
 brooch? No; I don't want any of your half-per- 
 cent belly wash." 
 
 The sailor, pausing in his consumption of steak 
 and bread and butter, looked over again to Gracie 
 and smiled. 
 
 The restaurant was half filled now, and the aut- 
 umn leaves and lilacs were losing some of their ding- 
 iness in clouds of smoke. Suddenly the piano
 
 38 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 started and a high, flat-sounding voice sang, "Give 
 me a kiss, dearie, before we say good-by." 
 
 Tommy smilingly nodded to the youth at the 
 piano who winked at her. 
 
 "Flirting with the ivories?" Gracie asked, still 
 looking at the sailor. 
 
 "He's some kid, that boy," said Tommy. 
 
 "He ain't bad on the piano, if that's what you 
 mean," Gracie replied. "But I don't see what he's 
 got for looks." After a moment she went on, "say, 
 you should have seen my swell friend in here just 
 now, the lady I told you about this morning." 
 
 "She must have been broke to be hanging out in 
 this joint." 
 
 "Oh, you don't get me," Gracie explained ; "She's 
 one of them social welfare workers." 
 
 "Well, nix on her then," Tommy said. 
 
 "That's what I thought. But she is certainly a 
 peach." 
 
 "Did you get that waist at Vonik's?" Tommy 
 asked. 
 
 "No I didn't. They ain't marked down, after 
 all." 
 
 "Kate Dearly said they was going to have a sale 
 of them." 
 
 "Well Kate better tell that to the marines." 
 
 And so the talk went on. The sailor had finished 
 his steak and was looking at Gracie. When that 
 young lady got up to go to the retiring room, she 
 said a few words to him in passing. When she 
 came back to her table, he and his friend came over
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 39 
 
 and sat down with her and Tommy. There was 
 much shrill laughter, and drinks of a very pale color 
 and extremely acid taste were ordered all around. 
 The sailor placed a fresh box of cigarettes on the 
 table and moved nearer to Gracie. The boy at the 
 piano played louder and louder, and the youth be- 
 side him sang of more kisses and good-bys and the 
 little lane in summer where the cherry blossoms 
 grow; while waitresses moved hither and thither 
 with tall funnel-shaped glasses of camouflaged beer, 
 and the head waiter continued to stand in the door- 
 way, clutching a greasy menu card. It was the 
 height of the evening gayety at Umber's cafe, where 
 a few men and women of the old red-light dis- 
 trict were trying their best to make merry over tum- 
 blers of varied Volstead brew. Outside, in the rain 
 which came down unceasingly, wet and dingy-look- 
 ing people passed along the street.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 That evening Florence was sitting at the desk in 
 her brother's study making certain notes on pieces 
 of paper which she had before her. The name 
 "Grade Linton" appeared a number of times; and 
 underneath it headings such as, "Two girls, Reg- 
 ular work for them. Permanent home somewhere, 
 possibly in country." Farther down the page were 
 the addresses of a number of houses which she had 
 visited that day and suggestions which she had to 
 make on each of them. Then appeared the words, 
 "Grade and Tommy," underlined: also, "country 
 life Danger of boredom. Good woman to super- 
 vise." Many of the notes Florence had scratched 
 out and re-written. She was. still scribbling away 
 on her papers when Max came in. 
 
 "How does Delane strike you, my dear?" he asked. 
 
 Kendall had been so hurried at breakfast that he 
 had had no chance until now to ask his sister what 
 had been her impressions of the evening before. 
 
 "I should say he is strictly honest," Florence an- 
 swered 
 
 "I am sure of it," Max said, as he lighted his pipe. 
 "But I know what you really think, that he won't 
 do here." 
 
 "I haven't said it," Florence remarked, smiling. 
 
 "But you thought it."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 41 
 
 "Oh, yes, I thought it. I could not help think- 
 ing it. But whoever said it was necessary that he 
 should fit in here?" she went on. 
 
 "No one, unless Delane himself. He has thrown 
 out a number of remarks, apparently in a chaffing 
 way, that my house must contain a mystery be- 
 cause I so seldom let any of my pals see the inside 
 of it. Of course it was vulgar of him, but he didn't 
 know how it sounded." 
 
 "His sister is probably behind his social ambi- 
 tions," Florence said. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," Max replied. "However, I want 
 to do all I can for him just now, as our venture looks 
 very promising." 
 
 "How splendid," Florence exclaimed, reaching 
 over and giving her brother's hand a good squeeze. 
 "I am so glad for you, Max dear." 
 
 Max looked at Florence a moment and then said, 
 "He has asked us out to his house for supper Sun- 
 day night." 
 
 "I hope you made excuses." 
 
 "Yes; I told him you had an engagement for 
 Sunday, and that I would probably be out of town 
 playing golf." 
 
 There was a pause. The brother and sister sat 
 looking into the fire quite as two people do who are 
 on such intimate terms that long silences are as 
 eloquent as words. 
 
 Then Florence spoke. "All the men of Delane's 
 type seem to me to be so lacking in imagination." 
 
 "What do you mean?" her brother asked.
 
 42 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Their vision so seldom goes beyond the con- 
 crete fact of the project they have in hand. There 
 are such vast other possibilities in every big under- 
 taking besides the definite result or end of the thing 
 itself. Just in the matter of my own work, there 
 are so many bigger things than the actual purposes 
 we have in view. This afternoon I ran into a girl 
 of the streets in a South End restaurant " 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't go into such places," Max 
 interrupted. 
 
 Florence continued, not heeding this remark. 
 "She interested me tremendously. As an individ- 
 uality, as a living personality, she appealed to me 
 as the one real thing I had struck in my whole day's 
 work. What can be done with a girl like that? 
 What is the long chain of circumstances that has 
 brought her to where she is? Now, for instance, 
 in the case of Delane. He has power; he controls 
 with you large tracts of valuable land. You both 
 want to develop it to the best advantage; but just 
 what does that advantage mean to Delane, or to 
 you, for that matter?" 
 
 "My dear " Max put in again. 
 
 "No, I do not mean to place you in the same class 
 with Delane," Florence said quickly. "But it 
 seems to me in all these things the great chance 
 is missed; the chance of dealing with the individ- 
 ual and doing something for him is overlooked." 
 
 "It won't be missed if the franchise is granted 
 and the railway put through. The land will develop 
 like magic, if it is made accessible to the public,"
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 43 
 
 Max said in a very firm tone of voiqe, showing a 
 little annoyance at what he considered a woman's 
 usual lack of perspective in such matters. 
 
 "You have said it," Florence ejaculated; "that 
 is just what I mean. You look at the matter as 
 Delane does, from the money-making point of 
 view. Your horizon is a Greenvale of jerry-built 
 tenements painted yellow, with three porches in 
 front of a supposedly colonial style to suggest the 
 home, and three porches in back of flimsier design 
 decorated with lines of washing, white, waving 
 banners of large families. The more houses and the 
 nearer together they are, the more reason you will 
 have to pride yourself upon your success. Green- 
 vale will look like every other back yard of a great 
 city, and people will flock there, deluded by the fact 
 of cheap rents and fresh air." 
 
 "Of course," Max said; "but isn't that all right? 
 Isn't that the kind of thing which is solving your 
 slum proposition, getting the people to live in the 
 outskirts of the cities? Isn't it a fine thing to give 
 them light and air and clean homes in uncongested 
 districts?" 
 
 "Certainly," Florence replied. "I do not criti- 
 cize you. I only deplore the lack of scope in your 
 views." 
 
 "I am afraid I don't exactly follow you," her 
 brother said a little hopelessly. 
 
 "I mean what a chance there is for you and 
 Delane to do something fine and big, if you will 
 only see beyond your railways and houses and rents.
 
 44 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Perhaps you have studied the garden city problem 
 as it has been developed in England. Why not do 
 something of that sort here? What an opportunity; 
 what a pity if you throw it away. Give up a little 
 of your land to garden plots; let your streets run 
 cfooked, with pretty squares and turns and open 
 spaces, and let your houses be built on different 
 plans. You would not lose much money by it. I 
 doubt if you Avould lose any; for you could make 
 Greenvale so much finer and better than any other 
 place of the sort within twenty miles of Boston 
 that it would become famous. There are always 
 open spots in such districts, usually stagnant 
 pools where mosquitoes breed. Make them gardens 
 and let your tenants have a suitable place to cool 
 themselves of a summer evening other than on the 
 crowded porches of your yellow-and-white fire traps. 
 That is what I mean when I say that I wish you 
 would see beyond the mere achievement of build- 
 ing houses and renting them." 
 
 "It all sounds pretty fine, Florence," Max said 
 kindly ; "but Delane and I are not imbued as you are 
 with the uplift idea." 
 
 "No one mentioned uplift. I am tired to death 
 of the word," Florence exclaimed rather heatedly. 
 "But why shouldn't every man who puts up houses 
 for people to live in be in some small way a bene- 
 factor to humanity ? The landlords that build tene- 
 ments on a large scale are always rich men. Delane, 
 for example, has loads of money. Why should he 
 not feel it worth while to do something more with
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 45 
 
 his property than merely build houses on it as 
 cheaply as possible, to rent for as much as people 
 can be made to pay? Why this constant desire to 
 get more than one gives? It is the curse of all 
 modern business; it is the lack of perspective, of 
 imagination." 
 
 Florence arose and turned to her brother. It 
 was the first time she had talked to him about Green- 
 vale in this way and she wondered how he would 
 take it. 
 
 "Delane would laugh at you," he said, "if he 
 heard you to-night. He would say you are a vi- 
 sionary." 
 
 "And you are thinking it," Florence replied. 
 "But why should you, for you are the sort of man 
 that could do these things. You have the intelli- 
 gence and outlook to appreciate fine things; you 
 have the standards by which to measure mediocrity. 
 Don't, Max, don't let this undertaking of yours be- 
 come mediocre ; make of it something fine." 
 
 "If I had the money," Max said, "something 
 might be done along the lines you suggest." 
 
 "Persuade Delane to do it. Make him see what 
 a great opportunity lies before him." 
 
 "You try it yourself," Max said, as he started 
 to go. "And see how far you get." 
 
 "I'll wager you I can do something." 
 
 "Possibly," Max called out; "Delane, I believe, 
 is rather susceptible where the ladies are concerned." 
 
 "Don't be silly, please," Florence replied. "By 
 the way, I forgot to tell you that I have heard from
 
 46 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Susan Anderton. You remember her, don't you? 
 She is in New York and is coming to Boston soon, 
 expecting to spend the winter here. She writes 
 that New York is more filled with profiteers than 
 Paris, and that she finds it harder to abide the Ameri- 
 ican brand of them than the foreign." 
 
 "Of course Susan would make comparisons," 
 Max remarked. 
 
 "It is perfectly natural," Florence said. "It 
 must be fifteen years since she was last in this 
 country." 
 
 "Have you her letter?" Max asked. 
 
 "Yes, upstairs. I will get it." 
 
 Florence went to fetch the letter, leaving Max 
 gazing into the fire. He had every reason to think 
 seriously of the question of Susan Anderton's ap- 
 pearance in his household and as a possible neighbor 
 for the winter. He did not know her well, but he 
 thought he knew her sufficiently to dislike her rather. 
 He had first met her in Paris when he was visiting 
 his sister and brother-in-law some years before. 
 Miss Anderton had been much at the Wainwrights' ; 
 was devoted to Florence and transferred a consider- 
 able part of that devotion to Florence's good-look- 
 ing brother when he made his appearance in France. 
 She was a woman of the most charming traits of 
 mind and presented to the rather concrete Max cer- 
 tain vistas of life which he had not explored. She 
 was the complex sort of person that Europe pro- 
 duces from American material. Miss Anderton 
 had lived abroad ever since she could remember,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 47 
 
 and her last visit to this country had been made some 
 ten or fifteen years ago. At first Max had been 
 fascinated by her brilliancy, a certain cold bril- 
 liancy of intellect which is always appealing to a 
 man ; but her complexities, behind a veil of the most 
 charming simplicity, had annoyed him after a time, 
 and he left the little circle in Paris without deep 
 regrets. 
 
 Florence had known her first when she was in 
 Switzerland with her mother. They met there 
 every year and often spent the spring together on 
 the Riviera, where Miss Anderton had a house. 
 Her friends were always changing, her background 
 seemed never the same; and Florence was perhaps 
 the only person that had known her consistently 
 through many years. When Florence came to Paris 
 to live after her marriage, Susan Anderton appeared 
 on the scene. She figured constantly in the Wain- 
 wrights' entertainments. During the war she 
 loaned her villa to the government for the use of 
 convalescent soldiers; and when Jack Wainwright 
 was killed, she had proved a valuable friend to 
 Florence in the circumstances of her grief and sub- 
 sequent departure to America. 
 
 She was some years older than Florence, prob- 
 ably in the neighborhood of forty ; but her age, like 
 the incidents that made up her life, was indefinite. 
 During a motor trip through the south of France, 
 Max had got to know her very well, and after he re- 
 turned home the two corresponded in a more or less 
 desultory fashion; but Max was not given to letter
 
 48 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 writing, and Miss Anderton never made an effort to 
 continue connections which were not exigent to 
 the moment. Florence's mention of her just now 
 brought her to Max's mind for the first time in 
 several years. Her appearance on the horizon of 
 his Boston life was a trifle disconcerting. 
 
 "Would you like me to read it ?" Florence asked, 
 as she came back with the letter. 
 
 "Yes, if you care to. It is odd of her to come 
 over here, isn't it?" 
 
 "One never knows what Susan will do," Florence 
 answered. "This part about our friends in Paris 
 will not interest you," she went on, as she opened 
 the letter. "Then she writes about her uncle. 
 'Through the death of an uncle whom I hated/ 
 Susan says, 'I have come into a slight addition to my 
 income. That is why I am in New York. There 
 is to be some litigation over the will, and I find I 
 must remain in this country most of the winter. 
 I hoped to get a flat in New York where I could 
 live and be near my lawyer; but finding flats not 
 only an expensive but unobtainable luxury, I am 
 considering the matter of Boston. Shall run over 
 soon and hope you are to be in town. It must be 
 delightful for you to be with your brother. I 
 remember him in the pleasantest sort of way," 
 
 Florence stopped. Max was frowning. 
 
 "Is that all she says ?" he asked. 
 
 Florence went on with the letter. 
 
 " 'I received your letter before I left France. It 
 was so good to hear from you again. But what
 
 49 
 
 is this work you speak of? Surely you should 
 be taking a rest after your labors in the war. It 
 is a painful process trying to look after other people 
 as you seem to be doing. I think the managing of 
 oneself requires all one's efforts, especially in these 
 complicated times. You have no idea how dread- 
 ful New York is. It is a maddening existence here 
 and I fear I shall never like the place, being built 
 too much on the old plan to care for heathenism run 
 riot and democracy turned loose to dance a jig on 
 a tower of golden dollars. Boston will suit me bet- 
 ter. Perhaps you still have people there who speak 
 the English language as I remember it. And do 
 look about for a little apartment where I can settle 
 down this winter. Yours, etc. Susan.' ' 
 
 "It is only because you are here that she is coming 
 to Boston," Max said. 
 
 "Very likely," his sister replied, as she folded 
 up the letter. "However, I shall be very glad to see 
 her again. I never shall forget how wonderful she 
 was when I came back to Paris after Jack's death." 
 
 "She loved the important part which she played 
 in your life at that time," Max answered. 
 
 "She changed her plans completely on account of 
 me," Florence said a little sadly. 
 
 "But always with her own little game to play." 
 
 "I believe you never fancied her." 
 
 "She amused me very much at first; but I think 
 on the whole I like less variegated people." 
 
 Florence decided to write to Susan at once and 
 ask that lady to stay with her when she should arrive
 
 50 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 in Boston. Max made no comment upon this, be- 
 yond suggesting that it might be well to qualify the 
 invitation by stating some definite time that they 
 would be glad to have Miss Anderton with them. 
 
 "Of course she will understand that it is only 
 until she finds an apartment," Florence said. 
 
 "Which is quite likely to mean all winter," Max 
 remarked. 
 
 When Florence was out the next morning, she 
 found herself about one o'clock near a downtown 
 hotel which always has been famous for its cuisine. 
 She went into the lobby to telephone Max to see 
 if he cared to come out for lunch with her, and she 
 ran into Jim Delane, emerging from one of the 
 telephone booths. 
 
 Delane's pleasure at seeing her was too evident 
 to be lost upon Florence, who found his hearty greet- 
 ing and handshake a trifle embarrassing in the midst 
 of the groups of men standing about. 
 
 "Well, now, if this isn't a piece of luck,"he said. 
 "Nora is here, waiting for me. You must join us 
 and have lunch." 
 
 "But I was just going to call up my brother," 
 Florence put in, "to see if he would come out and 
 eat with me." 
 
 "Never mind about that now," Delane went on 
 hurriedly. "Max always eats earlier than this. He 
 has probably had his lunch. You come right along 
 with us. There's Nora," he said, darting off 
 through the crowd to fetch Miss Delane, who made 
 rather a bright spot in the dull-toned hallway with
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 51 
 
 her gown of mulberry color and silver fox furs. 
 
 There seemed nothing for Florence to do but fall 
 in with Delane and his sister, however little the 
 idea interested her or however slight might be her 
 pleasure in meeting Miss Nora. She might as well 
 face the music now as later, knowing how inevitable 
 it was that some day the acquaintance with Delane's 
 sister would have to be made. "She may not be so 
 objectionable," Florence thought, "as I have im- 
 agined her." The introduction, however, did little 
 to dispel her doubts on that score; Miss Delane's 
 clothes fairly reeked with money, while her face, 
 voice and manner did not quite match the quality 
 of her toilette, a thing which so often happens now- 
 adays. 
 
 "It is mighty fine, running into you this way," 
 she said as they entered the dining room. "Jim has 
 talked an awful lot about you ever since the other 
 night he was at your house. I have been trying 
 to arrange a date to have you out to our place." 
 
 "That is very kind of you," Florence replied, tak- 
 ing her seat opposite Nora, while Delane sat at the 
 side between the two women. 
 
 He seemed to devote all his attention to Mrs. 
 Wainwright, quite regardless of his sister, who kept 
 up a constant chatter. Various things were or- 
 dered, all of them much heartier and more elaborate 
 than Florence was in the habit of taking at luncheon. 
 But her host was bent upon eating a good deal and 
 insisted that she do likewise. 
 
 "That is one thing I've never had a delicate
 
 52 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 appetite," Nora exclaimed, when Florence absolutely 
 refused to allow Delane to order a rich dessert. "I 
 always say, what's your stomach for, if you can't 
 eat everything you want?" 
 
 "But sometimes one does not care for a lot of 
 things," Florence said quietly. 
 
 "I suppose you got very little to eat in France," 
 Miss Delane continued rather loudly, in her high- 
 pitched voice. 
 
 A voice, what secrets it discloses; what abysses 
 it opens up. How wonderfully in a moment it 
 strips bare the outward camouflage of clothes and 
 paint and powder. On the other hand, how quickly 
 it can adorn the threadbare coat or soiled linen with 
 qualities of the true shining kind which represent 
 intelligence and cultivation. Miss Nora's voice dis- 
 closed deep gulfs over which it would be difficult for 
 Florence to find a way; and the last remark left 
 her gasping for a reply. 
 
 "I told my sister about your work in the war," 
 Delane said, to fill the gap. "Nora did a lot of 
 Red Cross work herself." 
 
 That seemed to close the subject ; and then Delane 
 tried to pay Mrs. Wainwright a pretty compliment 
 by speaking of how much he had enjoyed himself at 
 her house. 
 
 "I don't know when I have passed such a pleasant 
 evening," he affirmed. 
 
 Florence did not mind his compliments so much as 
 the way in which he looked at her; he was over-of- 
 ficious in his attentions and almost patronizing in
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 53 
 
 his frequent queries as to whether this or that dish 
 were just as she liked it. 
 
 "I am such an easy person to entertain," she 
 finally said, by way of remonstrance. "I would 
 have been perfectly happy with a plate of soup and 
 some bread and butter." 
 
 This seemed to amuse Delane, and he looked at his 
 sister as much as to say, "See how the poor dear 
 had to economize until my money gave Kendall a 
 lift." 
 
 Over the coffee at the end of luncheon, there was 
 a moment while Nora was chattering about the shop- 
 ping she had done that morning and the hat she had 
 bought at Hollander's for the absurdly low sum of 
 seventy-five dollars, when Florence was conscious 
 of Delane' s very intent gaze fixed upon her. She 
 looked straight across at the voluble lady opposite, 
 but could feel Delane's eyes upon her, scrutinizing 
 every line and contour of her face. It was decidedly 
 unpleasant to Mrs. Wainwright; and at last she 
 looked at him quickly and sharply and said that she 
 must go, having a very full afternoon ahead. Miss 
 Nora's offer to take her in her car wherever she 
 wished was politely declined. 
 
 When Florence reached the street she felt that she 
 could not have sat another moment and listened to 
 the aimless chatter and been the object of Delane's 
 contemplation. She would have liked to speak about 
 Green vale and perhaps approach the subject from 
 the angle she had taken with Max the night before; 
 to see what attitude toward it Delane would take;
 
 54 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 but nothing serious would have been possible with 
 the raucous Nora on the scene. Delane had seemed 
 really unobjectionable when she had met him at 
 home. To-day, with the setting his sister lent to 
 his personality, he appeared more ordinary than 
 Florence had supposed he was. "I must always be 
 nice to him," she was -thinking : " I must make every 
 effort to go on being nice, and I must never let Max 
 know how I feel." 
 
 She had so many things to do during the afternoon 
 that Delane slipped out of her mind; but when she 
 started back to Marlborough Street late in the day 
 and found herself in the crowd of homeward-bound 
 pedestrians, there was something about the busy, 
 prosperous-looking men who hurried past her that 
 recalled him. Florence wondered just how. much 
 she was likely to see of him and what his connection 
 with Max might mean in her own personal life. 
 It was that hour of the winter afternoon- when one 
 seems to fall naturally into meditation, although 
 caught up in the swirl of people all about? when the 
 sky above the city turns a dazzling blue and grows 
 more intense in color by contrast with the yellow of 
 the street lamps. These glitter and sparkle in a 
 competition of illumination with the stars above, 
 which appear distinctly in the sky somewhat later 
 than their minor brothers of the earth. The tone of 
 the sky deepens until it becomes almost purple on the 
 horizon, where an occasional electric sign, high on 
 the roof of a building, flashes and vibrates like a 
 handful of jewels dropped from above on the roofs
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 55 
 
 of the city. Over the middle of the town a gray 
 shadow hangs where the trees of the Common and 
 Public Gardens gather the darkness of the approach- 
 ing night, while toward the five spires of the Back 
 Bay district, tiny figures in black silhouette move 
 along the broad paths beneath the trees. The air is 
 cold and crisp, and every one walks rapidly. Far on 
 the edge of the open spaces of the Common is a 
 never-ending procession of automobile lamps, mov- 
 ing rather slowly on account of the dense mass of 
 traffic. These lights have the appearance of a long 
 chain propelled by one master hand, so rhythmic and 
 unceasing is their motion. 
 
 The return home of the workers in a city has in 
 it quite as much of poetry as the old pastoral scenes 
 of shepherds crossing the fields in a dim twilight. 
 This evening Florence was more than ever aware of 
 the fact that now she was one of these workers; 
 that her brother was one of them, and that they lived 
 in a world of Delanes and hurrying forces. This 
 meant new connections for them, new- situations 
 which never had to be met in the old, placid days of 
 their earlier life. 
 
 She reached home just in time for dinner. As 
 the maid opened the door, a rather stout lady came 
 hurrying down the stairs. There was an exclama- 
 tion, an embrace and vigorous kisses. It was Susan 
 Anderton; she had arrived.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The always exuberant Miss Anderton drew 
 Florence into the living room with various exclama- 
 tions of, "It's wonderful to see you again, my dear," 
 and, "Aren't you surprised to have me descend upon 
 you in this way?" 
 
 "I just couldn't stand New York another day," 
 she continued, sitting own on the sofa with her arm 
 around her friend. "I knew you would not mind 
 if I came straight here. I wired you, but of course 
 you didn't get my telegram." 
 
 "No," Florence said, "I have been out all day." 
 
 "Skirmishing about, I suppose, for the lost, 
 strayed or stolen," Susan remarked. 
 
 "I know you will not take me seriously in what 
 I am doing," Florence put in. 
 
 "Of course I will. I think it is perfectly splen- 
 did. Tell me all about it." 
 
 There was so much to be talked about, so many 
 bits of Paris gossip for Susan to produce, that it 
 was some time before the subject of Florence's 
 work was touched upon. In Miss Anderton's com- 
 ments upon it, Florence had a feeling that now in 
 the atmosphere of Susan's companionship there 
 would be a strange mixture of cross-currents which 
 could have only the effect of making her present
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 57 
 
 mode of life appear somewhat inconsistent. See- 
 ing Susan again had brought back the memory of 
 the years in Paris the life with her husband and 
 his death in the tragedy of the war in a more vivid 
 manner than she had experienced since her residence 
 in Boston. She could not help but wonder just how 
 distracting it was going to be to have this friend 
 with her, who would always carry her mind back 
 to the past, to her life before it had stopped; for 
 everything since Jack's death had been only an at- 
 tempt to make existence possible. 
 
 Florence was not quite sure what effect Miss And- 
 erton's arrival would have upon her brother. His 
 frown the night before had caused her to doubt his 
 pleasure upon hearing of that lady's advent. That 
 she had descended upon them so unexpectedly might 
 cause more than a frown. However, all he said was 
 that it was like Susan to allow her letter to precede 
 her by only a day. 
 
 "Do your best to get her an apartment," he added. 
 
 "Of course," Florence replied sweetly. "But be 
 as nice as you can to her while she is with us." 
 
 Miss Anderton had gone upstairs to get ready for 
 dinner, and Florence had taken this opportunity to 
 prepare her brother fqr her apppearance. 
 
 At dinner Max was seized with that feeling of 
 uncertainty in connection with this friend of his sis- 
 ter which he had experienced years before, in his 
 association with her in Paris. She was apparently 
 a frank, simple type, yet was always producing in 
 him the idea that she meant much more than she said
 
 58 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 and that from her actions one might infer much 
 more than appeared on the surface. Her complex- 
 ities of mind, combined with her unstudied manner, 
 troubled him again to-night as he sat opposite her at 
 dinner. He always had felt vaguely, although find- 
 ing no definite facts to base his belief on, that her in- 
 fluence upon Florence was not good. Yet Susan 
 was irreproachable in character in spite of a some- 
 what unpleasant effect which her personality had 
 upon people who knew her but slightly. She was 
 undoubtedly good-looking in a broad, expansive sort 
 of way. When she smiled, you would have been in- 
 clined to unburden your soul to her, provided there 
 were things upon your soul that only the elect could 
 hear. When her face was sober in repose, a cer- 
 tain cynicism appeared around the eyes and mouth 
 which would have made you wonder just what use 
 she might make of your confidence, and just how 
 far her criticism would be sincere. How her in- 
 fluence upon Florence was not good, Max would 
 have been at a loss to say. Perhaps it was merely 
 a question of the dominating quality of Susan, ab- 
 sorbing into her own the lesser personalities with 
 which she came in contact. There are certain 
 people whose friends always seem somewhat less 
 strong in character than themselves, wholly charm- 
 ing souls but who seem not to have the same stead- 
 fastness of purpose. Susan was one of them. She 
 seemed always to bask in the bright light of health 
 and vigor; her friends shone in the light she re- 
 flected, not in their own.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 59 
 
 When Max found she was in his house to-night, 
 he made up his mind to like her as much as possible ; 
 to permit her to make the same impression on him 
 that she had done during those early days in Paris 
 when she had frequented the Wainwright menage 
 and had been able to amuse him and create for him 
 a certain foreign atmosphere which was lacking in 
 his sister's familiar mode of life. Yet now the 
 feeling returned of not being sure just how to ap- 
 proach Susan. 
 
 The conversation wandered on to Greenvale and 
 Kendall's business prospects. 
 
 "Your new suburb will be ideal," Susan said. 
 "How splendid to be able in this country to get away 
 from the clash of the trolleys. I think I should like 
 to live there. You must build a dear little house 
 for me, Max, and I will have a garden and raise 
 tulips. I will make Greenvale famous for its 
 tulips." 
 
 Florence looked at her brother with an amused 
 expression. 
 
 "My dear lady," Max said firmly. "That is the 
 only thing which is holding us up now, trying to 
 get the electric car line put through to our prop- 
 erty." 
 
 "What a mistake you make," Miss Anderton re- 
 plied. "It will ruin the place." 
 
 "Not for the dividends," Florence put in. "Be- 
 sides, it is to be most unfashionable. I can't fancy 
 Susan living in a place that was not smart." 
 
 "I hear one may do anything in America and
 
 60 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 preserve one's character," Susan remarked. "I in- 
 tend to be quite reckless over here." 
 
 She looked at Max and smiled. He turned his at- 
 tention to his dinner. 
 
 "You will find," Florence said, "that you can't 
 be so individual here as in Europe. That is, with- 
 out attracting a lot of notice." 
 
 "In other words, Americans are awful busy- 
 bodies," Susan replied, with a slight raising of her 
 eyebrows. "They always were. Altruistic prin- 
 ciples have seized the nation, and you are all bent on 
 reform, which soon becomes an annoying inquisi- 
 tiveness to know every one else's affairs. 
 
 Florence smiled indulgently, while Max remained 
 lost in thought. 
 
 "I should say," Susan continued, "that at present 
 this country is mad on* the subject of uplift. Even 
 you, Florence, have been tainted with the yellow 
 journalism of salvation. The old-time Puritan 
 preachers had the decency to stay in their pulpits; 
 nowadays every one must run about and pry into 
 other people's affairs. Instead of living a life of 
 leisure in a charming house with a charming 
 brother" at this Max frowned a little "you must 
 spend your days in some dingy slum, deluded by the 
 thought that the much pampered working class is 
 aware of your presence and affected by it." 
 
 There was a silence. Perhaps she had said too 
 much. Miss Anderton rarely made mistakes of 
 this tactless sort, but just now she had spoken rather 
 too emphatically on a subject which was bound to be
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 61 
 
 very near Florence's heart. There had been 
 throughout dinner something in the attitude of Max 
 that was decidedly annoying. Accustomed for 
 years to being the central figure of brilliant dinner 
 tables, listened to, laughed at and applauded, Susan 
 felt in the quiet chill of this dimly lighted Boston 
 room an atmosphere of almost definite hostility. 
 Her imagination was enlarging a little upon the void 
 which she felt in the New England perspective. 
 
 "I don't mean to be unkind," she said, after a 
 moment. "I only wish to help you, to advise you, 
 dear; to be a kind of elder sister taking a lively in- 
 terest in what you are doing. You look so frail 
 so different from the way I remember you; and to- 
 night you seem so tired that I would only try to 
 make you realize you cannot attempt too much in 
 this work which interests you; that your friends 
 have some claim upon you. If I should say that you 
 are meant for something better, you would say I did 
 not know, that what you are doing is the best sort 
 of thing. But there must be others who, more fitted 
 for the work, are better able to cope with the diffi- 
 culties and stand up under the strain of it. Don't 
 you think I am right, Max?" 
 
 <<f Yes; you probably are right," he answered, 
 showing .much less interest than Miss Anderton had 
 supposed he would take in the matter. "But Flor- 
 ence is right, too. As life is lived now in America, 
 I think it is no longer possible for a person of an ac- 
 tive turn of mind not to go in for something or 
 other. It may be baby hygiene and pure milk ; an-
 
 62 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 imal rescue or anti-vivisection, but every one has a 
 particular bee in his bonnet. That may be why the 
 people who desire a picturesque life of leisure em- 
 igrate to Europe. The workers come in and the 
 molluscs go out." 
 
 "In other words," Susan exclaimed, "the dregs of 
 Europe will take the place of your finer spirits. But 
 I will not be called a mollusc. That was a nasty 
 thrust," she added, laughing. "I am sure I never 
 had vacant moments in my daily program when I 
 lived abroad." 
 
 "Never, Susan," Florence replied. "You were 
 always the most delightful hostess and a thoroughly 
 energetic soul." 
 
 "But I am sure to-night your brother considers 
 me quite useless on this side of the ocean," Susan 
 said, as they got up from the table. 
 
 Later that evening, after Max had retired to his 
 books and pipe, and the two women sat talking to- 
 gether of old times and mutual friends, all those 
 emancipated creatures who were drifting back to 
 Europe to try to find some echo of the froth of life 
 as it was lived before the war, Miss Anderton 
 chanced to remark that all that meaning Flor- 
 ence's life in Paris was entirely unlike her present 
 existence. Florence replied that of course she knew 
 Susan would not approve of her now, but notwith- 
 standing this, she considered all she was doing far 
 more worth while and interesting than the old years 
 of happy idleness. 
 
 "It depends a good deal on whether you want to
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 63 
 
 lead your own life as you choose or make the other 
 fellow's way easier; to be happy yourself or make 
 some one else happy," Susan interrupted. "I have 
 always been rather pagan in that respect." 
 
 "But you see," Florence went on, "I have not 
 taken up this work with any such ideas. I did not 
 enter upon it with wholly altruistic purposes; nor 
 become imbued with Socialism and mad on the sub- 
 ject of votes for women. I had to absorb myself 
 completely in something, and this was the nearest to 
 my grasp and the most interesting." 
 
 If there were one thing especially typical of Flor- 
 ence, it was that she was always truthful with her- 
 self. This declaration to Miss Anderton was char- 
 acteristic of her wish never to fly under false colors. 
 Her mother used to tell a story of her as a child, 
 when she had been found one day high up in an 
 apple tree, trying to make her descent with a kitten 
 which she had rescued from a barking puppy. A 
 neighbor, probably a member of the humane society, 
 if such a thing existed in those days, thought it 
 showed a fine spirit toward animals ; but the youth- 
 ful Florence rather took the wind out of her 
 sentiment when she announced that she had made the 
 ascent into the tree merely to satisfy herself. That 
 she had always wanted to climb that particular apple 
 tree and nurse would never let her; but when she saw 
 the kitten pursued by the dog, she thought that 
 now was her chance. She had an excuse for the 
 climb, and any rebuke that might be forthcoming 
 would be overlooked, as, in fact, it had been, only
 
 64 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 praise being given the little girl for her kindness to 
 animals. 
 
 Florence was beginning to- realize, as she had 
 suspected when she first heard that S^isan was in 
 America, that her friend was going to be a disturb- 
 ing influence to her concentration in her work. She 
 would not let this influence shake her or lead to any 
 slackening of effort on her part; she was far too 
 sincere in everything she did for that to happen. 
 But still it was there; the quiet, critical attitude of 
 the friend who was closer to her than any one in the 
 world. Closer even than Max, for his state of mind 
 had never gone beyond those simple impressions of 
 youth when' one of his temperanient views life 
 simply and accepts things easily. Besides, Florence 
 had been separated from her brother during the most 
 vivid years of her existence, and the companionship 
 of the past year had not served to bridge the gulf 
 which would always lie between their natures. 
 
 The next day Florence thought a good deal of 
 what Susan had said ; yet not so much of what was 
 said as what her attitude implied. It was evident 
 that Miss Anderton would never be able to enter 
 upon that perfect plane of understanding which had 
 been their common ground in the old days. It might 
 be that the light, inconsequent mood that belonged 
 essentially to those times was gone from her forever ; 
 but she wondered if she had really outgrown her 
 friend.. Susan now seemed a little removed in her 
 sympathy, and Florence rather dreaded another in- 
 timate conversation; so it was with a certain relief
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 65 
 
 that she saw Delane appear on the second evening 
 of Miss Anderton's stay in the Kendall home. An- 
 other discussion of Florence's affairs would not be 
 possible. 
 
 As Max brought Delane into the room where his 
 sister and her friend were sitting, Florence was glad 
 of this chance for Susan to meet him. What would 
 be her impression? Surely he was a new type to 
 her; a personality striking in a different way from 
 the many striking and strident! individuals with 
 whom Miss Anderton had come in contact during 
 her various peregrinations over the continent of 
 Europe. He was the product of certain forces and 
 tendencies which had scarcely started when the ad- 
 mirable Susan brushed the dust of America from her 
 feet many years ago. 
 
 Any doubts about the impression Delane might 
 make or fail to make were quickly settled by the 
 cordiality of Susan toward him, and the greater ease 
 which Delane displayed to-night than on the oc- 
 casion of his former visit. He chatted quite merrily 
 with Susan while Florence and Max sat listening. 
 
 "I really had no idea, Mr. Delane, that people 
 could do such things," Susan was saying. "You are 
 a wonder." 
 
 "You mean with the land?" Delane asked. 
 
 "No; more especially the way you have trans- 
 formed Max Kendall into a vital, up-to-the-moment 
 person from the somewhat casual but wholly delight- 
 ful creature I knew in Paris." 
 
 "I don't think I have done anything in the trans-
 
 66 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 formation line. You see, the land belonged to Max. 
 It's the land that has done the trick." 
 
 "Land or no land," Susan exclaimed, "he is quite 
 different, and it takes more than a piece of real 
 estate to work such changes. Yes, really it is su- 
 perb," she went on. "It seems as though that is the 
 very thing which is 'being done now in America. 
 Unexpected vistas of people are constantly opening; 
 one's mental attitude is always changing, and like 
 wizards, you newer people" Florence wondered 
 how Delane would take that; probably all right, 
 she thought, as very likely he did not consider him- 
 self one of the newer people "are magically chang- 
 ing the most conservative types and institutions into 
 living, alert realities. There seems to be an over- 
 abundance of vitality here which is striking fire 
 from rocks and bringing the lightning down from 
 above." 
 
 "It is immense to hear you talk that way," Delane 
 said enthusiastically. 
 
 "Not nearly so immense as to sit by and see what 
 you are doing," Susan came back quite majestically. 
 
 Surely she is a wonder, thought Florence; three 
 weeks in the United States and talking as though she 
 knew the key to the whole situation of things in this 
 country. Even if she did not always hit the mark, 
 the zest of her spirit made up for any lack of correct 
 perspective. Of course Delane would be captivated. 
 Susan's abundance of animal spirits would strike 
 just the right note in him. 
 
 "Some day I want you to take me you and
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 67 
 
 Max," she was saying, "out to your property. I 
 would like to see a place of that sort grow. There 
 must be something thrilling in watching roses come 
 where there were only weeds." 
 
 "What she means," Max said, laughing, "is to 
 see the tomato cans removed and model tenements 
 spring from dump heaps." 
 
 "I will have it my way, though," Susan continued. 
 "I will see your Greenvale is that the name? 
 live up to its expectations. You really can't call 
 a place by such a name unless you cause the wilder- 
 ness to blossom. Your houses are not complete if 
 they have no gardens. You know what I said 
 last night, Max, about the little house you must 
 build for me where I shall raise tulips." 
 
 Delane looked at Max in a rather disconcerted 
 manner. Had Kendall gone out of his mind, prom- 
 ising houses for very smart ladies with gardens in 
 which they could grow flowers? 
 
 Seeing his expression, Max smiled. 
 
 "It is all right, Jim, old man," he said. "You 
 must not believe all this very excellent woman tells 
 you, or be carried off your feet by the color of her 
 tulips." 
 
 This was more like the attitude he had first taken 
 toward Susan, and it pleased her. It was like a 
 breath of the early days in Paris when he had joked 
 and bantered with her about some of her ideas. 
 She showed her pleasure in her eyes as she looked 
 across at him now. Florence also was beaming; 
 for these were her ideas, to develop the new sub-
 
 68 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 urban tract into something more attractive than 
 mere rows of houses. Perhaps here would lie the 
 common ground on which she could walk again in 
 complete sympathy with her friend. 
 
 "I think what Susan suggests is splendid," was 
 all she said. "Even if the soil of Greenvale prove 
 to be unfitted to the cultivation of tulips, surely 
 poppies will grow in the most unpromising condi- 
 tions." 
 
 "Yes," Max remarked, turning to Delane, "my 
 sister was talking to me a short time ago about the 
 possibilities in the Greenvale property which she 
 thinks you and I are missing. She had in mind a 
 sort of garden city." 
 
 He had not spoken of this before to Delane, who 
 was taken somewhat by surprise and showed it. 
 
 "You probably know what has been done in 
 England along that line," Miss Anderton said to 
 him. "Such perfectly lovely little settlements have 
 sprung up outside some of the great cities. There 
 are flowers, gardens, and curving vistas down what 
 seem for all the world the streets of a mediaeval 
 town." 
 
 Susan was sure Delane knew nothing of all this, 
 that it was untouched ground to him ; but her tone 
 was such that it implied he knew exactly what she 
 was talking about. In this man she had seen at 
 once there were great depths of ignorance, and 
 seeing this, she also realized that the surest approach 
 to him would be to take for granted that he knew 
 about many things of which even the names perhaps
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 69 
 
 were unfamiliar ; and that he must be told, yet told 
 so delicately that he would not perceive he was 
 receiving instruction along the untrodden paths of 
 his mind. She did not give him a chance to say 
 that he never had heard of the so-called garden 
 cities ; but went on quickly to a more detailed account 
 of some visits she had paid them, what she had 
 seen and thrown in quite casually what she had 
 thought about it all, this really being the most 
 important part 
 
 Delane was very attentive, although it was evi- 
 dent that he did not at the moment in any way 
 apply to the present or future exigencies of the 
 Greenvale Holding Company the somewhat copious 
 information Miss Anderton was scattering about 
 her. He was eager to learn all he could where he 
 could. He had the desire of a recently awakened 
 mind to drink in every bit of knowledge about all 
 sorts of things which should come his way. While 
 he did not see the application of gardens and med- 
 iaeval streets to the prosaic lines of straight roads 
 which stared him in the face every day from the 
 blue prints of the surveyors' plans on the walls of 
 his office, yet he felt the prick of new things, ap- 
 parently old and taken for granted by the initiated, 
 but which he never had come upon even in the most 
 transitory way. 
 
 He went home, quite dazzled by the personality 
 of Miss Anderton, this creature so strange and new 
 to his former habits of mind. There was a definite- 
 ness of approach in her maimer which struck him
 
 70 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 as different from all the other women he had known. 
 To be sure, he had not known many except of the 
 passant le temps variety; and perhaps not the best 
 of that kind. His sister was a fair type of what 
 until now he had considered the feminine mind. 
 While he could not express it to himself, there was 
 something of the masculine about Miss Anderton 
 which had made it easy for him to understand her. 
 He felt as though he had always known her. 
 
 But Florence was by no means forced out of the 
 picture by the larger personality of Miss Anderton. 
 Delane was more and more impressed by her charm, 
 her grace, and what he pleased to call her exceeding 
 kindness to himself. Of course Florence, so natur- 
 ally kind and gracious to every one, could not know 
 that Delane was interpreting her manner toward 
 him as something very special or particular; but 
 there she was, a figure radiant and beautiful to him, 
 causing him more thought and interesting him more 
 than any one he had met in a long time. To-night 
 he thought she never had looked so well; her dark 
 blue gown with the lace at the throat and cuffs made 
 her rather pale face seem to shine out under the 
 rich mass of deep auburn hair. He observed every 
 motion she made, and every time she spoke he 
 watched the play of expression about her eyes and 
 mouth. He had known girls with mouths just as 
 pretty; he certainly had seen girls with hair of a 
 more beautiful color, but no one had been quite like 
 Mrs. Wainwright. Everything about her was fine. 
 He wondered if it were merely this fineness that
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 71 
 
 made him think so much about her, or something 
 far different and deeper. 
 
 Florence, too, was immensely pleased by the out- 
 come of the evening. Delane had appeared to bet- 
 ter advantage; and the note of cordiality which 
 had been struck between himself and Miss Anderton 
 was distinctly interesting. Max, on the other hand, 
 was not so comfortable in his mind. It was the 
 quality in Susan of taking people by storm which 
 he never had liked. She had done it with him in 
 Paris, although he was sufficiently sophisticated to 
 know that he was being taken by storm. Besides, 
 he never was really swept off his feet by any one. 
 Perhaps that was why he had never married. Prob- 
 ably Susan Anderton had interested him at one 
 time as much as it would ever be possible for any 
 one to do ; yet he always had seen through her. He 
 flattered himself that he had seen through her even 
 when he had been most enchanted by her person- 
 ality. Then he had come to dislike her, to be sus- 
 picious of her. So now, it was something of a shock 
 and not wholly to his fancy to see her appear on his 
 horizon and work her old tricks, and on his part- 
 ner in business, which made the matter worse. 
 Naturally Delane was easy prey. He was a child 
 in the nuances of life. He would take Susan whole- 
 heartedly, which apparently was just the way she 
 had taken him. 
 
 Upstairs Susan was saying to Florence, as she 
 bade her good-night, that Mr. Delane was a fresh 
 type, very good-looking, and that much might be
 
 72 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 made of him. Florence replied that she was not 
 much interested in the making; she would leave 
 that to Max. But of course Susan meant some- 
 thing quite different. She always had found it 
 amusing to absorb people, to "get them" for all 
 they were worth. Here was a new experiment for 
 her.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Through the next few weeks Max noticed in 
 Delane a certain moodiness, something like absent- 
 mindedness, if such a thing had been possible in a 
 man of Delane's type. It was not that he in any 
 way slackened in his efforts concerning the property, 
 but all his movements were carried on in a new man- 
 ner, like a person playing a part while the mind 
 wandered to things remote from the matter in hand. 
 What these things were Max could not guess. 
 Sometimes Delane, in the midst of writing and 
 going over figures and plans, would get up, go to 
 the window and stand looking down into the street ; 
 or open drawers and read letters just perused, or 
 answer some question irrelevantly while talking 
 business with Kendall. Sometimes Delane would 
 ask Max quite suddenly what his sister and Miss 
 Anderton were doing that evening ; whether it would 
 be all right for him to run up to see them, or if they 
 had been to some show lately come to town. 
 
 Max knew that the introduction to Susan had 
 had a definite effect upon his partner, their first 
 meeting having been followed by another evening at 
 the Kendall house and by several talks over the 
 telephone when Delane was trying to arrange to have 
 Miss Anderton and Mrs. Wainwright come to tea 
 with him some afternoon at one of the uptown
 
 74 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 hotels where there was very good dance music. The 
 ladies in Maryborough Street, however, had not 
 accepted any of his invitations; but not through any 
 disinclination on the part of Susan. She liked him. 
 Max knew this and could only attribute the new 
 attitude of Delane to something which had been 
 awakened in him by the contact with his sister's 
 friend. Any possible effect made by Florence he 
 thought must have been too slight to cause even a 
 ripple on the placid surface of the unromantic Jim, 
 absorbed to his ears in the details of his business. 
 Perhaps Kendall was a much too confirmed bachelor 
 to know what gentle currents may do when flowing 
 in a particular direction. 
 
 However, the newer manner was evident to Max, 
 not given, as we know, to subtleties ; and he espe- 
 cially noticed it on this particular day three of four 
 weeks after the introduction of Delane to the Ken- 
 dall home, when he proposed a theater party for the 
 "four of them," explaining as a matter of brotherly 
 feeling, apparently, that it would be better not to in- 
 clude Nora, as her presence would over-balance the 
 party in the number of women. For a moment 
 Max felt lost for an excuse, feeling sure that Flor- 
 ence would not care for such an entertainment made, 
 as it undoubtedly would be if Delane were the host, 
 with a certain amount of show and followed by an 
 elaborate supper after the theater; but he could not 
 go on evading Delane's proposals indefinitely. 
 
 "When I go home to dinner I will ask them," was 
 all he said.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 75 
 
 "Why not telephone?" Delane questioned. 
 
 "But there is no hurry. Any night will do." 
 
 "I feel like the theater. I should like to see a 
 ripping good show to-night," Delane went on, in 
 the rather enthusiastic manner o a child. 
 
 Max thought that any arrangement for to-night 
 was out of the question; but he only said he believed 
 his sister had an engagement for the evening, and 
 that he would ask her to name a possible night. 
 
 Delane looked at Max curiously for a moment, a 
 certain hardness showing in his face. He started 
 to say something, exclaiming "I wonder," and then 
 stopped suddenly to turn again to his desk and 
 papers. 
 
 "What do you wonder?" Max inquired cheerfully. 
 
 "Nothing," was all Delane answered. Then 
 added, "Your sister seems to have a lot to do." 
 
 Max made no reply ; it was hardly the concern of 
 Delane what Florence had or had not to do. From 
 the very first moment of his connection with this 
 man, when he had talked informally with him 
 about his land in the suburbs lying undeveloped for 
 want of capital and had seen in the enthusiasm of 
 Delane's attention and subsequent interest in the sub- 
 ject a broad horizon of possibilities opening out 
 should the .Delane money be invoked, these pos- 
 sibilities always linked with the idea of the added ad- 
 vantage they would bring to his sister Max had 
 resolved that Florence should never enter even re- 
 motely into any side of the relation, should such a 
 relationship for business reasons grow up between
 
 76 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 himself and Delane. The introduction of Jim to his 
 house had been a matter of only common decency 
 after the growth of the close connection in which 
 they found themselves. It had been a pity, Max was 
 beginning to realize, that the advent of Susan Ander- 
 ton had formed a newer and stronger link between 
 Delane and his own life, as it existed beyond the 
 deep chasm of State Street, than he supposed the 
 mere bringing of Florence into the scene ever could 
 have furnished. 
 
 But Delane was speaking again. "I have called 
 up Miss Anderton several times," he said, "to see if 
 she and your sister would come out with me some 
 afternoon to dance and meet my sister Nora. Nora 
 would like Miss Anderton awfully well she's met 
 Mrs. Wainwright, you know. Nora doesn't know 
 a great lot of people. That is, not your kind of 
 people. It would be fine. But your sister always 
 seems to be going somewhere or doing something, 
 and Miss Anderton says she cannot come without 
 her. I really think, though, she would like to." 
 
 Quite likely, thought Max. It would not be at 
 all unlike Susan to wish to make the acquaintance 
 of Miss Nora Delane. 
 
 It never had occurred to Kendall that Delane was 
 a social climber. It hardly seemed likely now, 
 even in view of his last remarks and the recent at- 
 tempts to entertain Susan and Florence ; as the Ken- 
 dall place in the world of social affairs was too 
 inconspicuous because of its very surety for Delane 
 to place his hopes upon any ladder which might be
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 77 
 
 placed by Mrs. Wainwright for him to ascend. 
 There seemed to be a simpler idea behind all this 
 than possible schemes for the advancement of sister 
 Nora's ambitions. Besides, Delane was a man pe- 
 culiarly without a standard in regard to the matter 
 of class distinctions. In his own view of things, he 
 undoubtedly considered the status of Kendall and all 
 that went with Kendall's sphere in life as little better 
 than his own. Perhaps not so good, as the money 
 was all on his side. That there was a difference he 
 saw clearly; but the difference did not bear any 
 advantage perceptible to him. He was quite happy 
 as he was, rich and powerful. No ; there certainly 
 was something else, Max concluded, that had caused 
 what he named to himself as moodiness in his part- 
 ner. 
 
 A few days later Max was again assailed on the 
 matter of the theater. There had been excuses and 
 evasions, and it now seemed necessary to arrange 
 rather definitely some party by which Delane would 
 be thrown again with Florence and Susan. A jour- 
 ney to Greenvale was suggested, -with the idea that 
 the Delane motor should take Florence and her 
 brother and Miss Anderton out to the much-talked- 
 of property. Delane seemed agreeable to this plan, 
 although he insisted that it would be something of 
 a shock to the ladies to find the place a barren wilder- 
 ness of dumping grounds, a desultory ash heap, as 
 it were. "Like a state tour of inspection with 
 nothing to inspect" was the way he put it. He 
 wondered just what lay behind this sudden desire
 
 78 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 of Max for Mrs. Wainwright and her friend to 
 visit Greenvale. 
 
 "Do you take much stock in all this garden 
 business Miss Anderton was talking about?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "A lot of damned rot, in my opinion," came 
 back quickly from Kendall. 
 
 Probably he was right. Perhaps the garden 
 city idea does not appeal to the great American 
 Commonwealth, where the people, if they want gar- 
 dens, will have them as they jolly well please with- 
 out any fuss about municipal planning and the 
 picturesque lay-out of streets. Moreover, ugliness 
 is so taken for granted in our mushroom commun- 
 ities that the ideal of beauty is not only not looked 
 for but is not even given a thought. 
 
 Of course, Delane was glad to hear his partner 
 speak in this way. He would not like to feel that 
 he was associated in business with a visionary sort 
 of person or one whose imagination might run riot 
 in dealing with a commonplace proposition. 
 
 The day on which the motor trip was undertaken 
 was quite the worst imaginable, being very cold 
 and dusty as only Boston can be gray and dusty 
 and cold in the winter time. As Greenvale was 
 somewhere beyond Dorchester, Delane proposed 
 that they should stop on the way and pick up his 
 sister, who always went out in the motor in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 "It will give you a chance to meet Nora," he 
 said, addressing Miss Anderton. As no reply was
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 79 
 
 made to this, he added, "My sister has been awfully 
 keen about meeting you ever since she heard that 
 you had come to visit Mrs. Wainwright." 
 
 Apparently Miss Delane was expecting to be 
 picked up, as there was nothing casual in her ap- 
 pearance as she stood at the top of the granite steps 
 leading up to the Delane house. She was dressed 
 as sumptuously as the occasion permitted with a 
 few extra flourishes to make an ordinary event ap- 
 pear in the light of an occasion in a gown of hori- 
 zon blue cloth with a huge muff of gray squirrel and 
 gray velvet hat with numerous touches of gold. 
 
 "Won't the ladies come in?" she called to Jim, 
 as she came down the steps. 
 
 But the "ladies" seeming vague, the necessary 
 introductions were made and the motor started for 
 Greenvale. 
 
 Max was a little annoyed that Nora Delane was in 
 the party, as he was sure she would talk throughout 
 the afternoon, allowing the other two women little 
 chance for the contemplation of Greenvale. 
 
 Susan perceived at once that he was displeased; 
 and she also realized that in the arrangement of the 
 car, Max and Delane occupying the two fold-up 
 chairs and the three women sitting somewhat closely 
 together in the broad seat at the back, there was 
 something distinctly annoying for Florence in the 
 near relation of the Delanes to herself and Max. 
 It was not that Florence did not try to talk with 
 Nora this being slightly difficult, owing to the 
 continuous chatter of the lady in question but the
 
 8o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 juxtaposition of Delane and Max directly in front 
 of her seemed to hold a significance all its own. Her 
 brother, firmly made, with the clear, healthy skin 
 which had come down through many generations of 
 Kendalls; Delane, quite as strong a cut of a man 
 in fact somewhat bigger in a purely physical way 
 but with a certain indeterminate aspect, an irregular- 
 ity of side face in spite of his good looks, seemed to 
 stand for Florence as the summing up of the two 
 sides of life from which each had come. Why, 
 being as strong as Delane in outward aspect, with 
 the added advantage of refinement and culture, 
 should Max not be as powerful as the other man in 
 the big ways of life? Why had it been necessary 
 for a Kendall, descended straight from the old stock 
 that swayed the country in its early struggles, to 
 lean now for support both financially and in order 
 to make a success of his own life, upon this rep- 
 resentative of the new, heterogeneous America? 
 Delane, for the most part, sat looking straight 
 ahead, occasionally turning to Susan in the other 
 corner when that lady addressed him. Susan was 
 able thus to observe him carefully, perhaps more 
 critically to "take him' in" than had been possible 
 on the former occasions in the Kendall drawing- 
 room. This afternoon Delane appeared to be re- 
 markably preoccupied, all but indifferent to Florence, 
 who was sitting just behind him. Florence's ex- 
 treme quietness may have been the cause of this, 
 but there seemed also to be a kind of timidity, a 
 self-consciousness when Mrs. Wainwright roused
 
 8i 
 
 herself to some casual remark about the country 
 through which they were passing. Delane's short 
 "Yes's" and "No's" in reply were in distinct contrast 
 to his former conversations, when he had seemed tc 
 be almost over-doing his efforts to please. 
 
 While the car was rolling along through an ex- 
 tremely densely populated section of the suburbs, 
 Susan's remark, "Houses, houses endlessly, and you 
 would build more!" caused Delane to turn to her, 
 laughing. 
 
 When Florence asked what the joke was, he im- 
 mediately returned to his contemplation of the land- 
 scape and half shyly, almost like a child that has 
 been rebuked, answered that he supposed there was 
 none. Which led to a short silence, most welcome 
 after Nora's incessant chatter; but it did not last 
 long as that indefatigable person took the situation 
 again upon her shoulders in a burst of anecdote 
 about Jim at home and his pet cat. The hearty 
 Jim pictured with a pet cat upon his knee was too 
 much for Susan, who laughed heartily, causing 
 Delane to turn in his embarrassment to Max and 
 plunge into a lengthy conversation about the relative 
 width of streets and the best sort of pavement. 
 
 And now, in a vista of gasometers and low squat- 
 ters' houses, Greenvale appeared on the horizon 
 behind the proud proclamation of its name done in 
 yellow letters on a pea-green background, the whole 
 signboard looming up twenty feet above the ground 
 as a welcome bit of color in the grayness all about. 
 The arrival was certainly something of a shock,
 
 82 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 made in clouds of dust and smoke blowing over 
 from a near-by factory. But Susan said nothing; 
 she merely looked. 
 
 "If the roads aren't too bad, John," Delane said 
 to the chauffeur through the speaking tube, "take 
 us over a little of the land. You can't get any idea 
 from here just how much we own," he added, turn- 
 ing to the ladies. "It really is some place." 
 
 " 'Some' quite describes it," Susan said, "as 
 I am sure no adjective of a more definite meaning 
 would hit the mark. I had no idea it was quite so 
 dreary as this." 
 
 "You see a part of our property is used as a dump 
 for the city carts, so that the land can be filled in. 
 It is marshy in places," Delane replied, trying to 
 find an adequate apology for the very untidy ap- 
 pearance of the place. 
 
 The motor bumped along a newly cut road, where 
 at intervals sticks in the ground showed where the 
 pavement would be. One or two of the streets had 
 been named, such as Myrtle Avenue and Gardenia 
 Terrace. 
 
 "Surely," Susan laughed, "you will not use such 
 names throughout the place. If you do, it is an 
 admission on your part that you intend to have 
 gardens and a bit of beauty; although I have my 
 doubts about even a dandelion thriving here." 
 
 This was good, Max thought, and might lead 
 Susan to a properly enthusiastic view of the sit- 
 uation in spite of its present uncouthness. 
 
 "My partner here has never approved of my
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 83 
 
 names for the streets," Delane said. "He calls 
 them sentimental." 
 
 "Comic, rather, I should say," Susan went on. 
 "But you certainly must do something nice for the 
 streets with the fancy names. It might be an 
 interesting experiment to see if the houses on Myrtle 
 Avenue, where perhaps a few maples could be per- 
 suaded to grow, would rent more quickly than the 
 ones on East First Street, for example; for at the 
 present moment I can think of nothing but numbers 
 by which to designate these very uncomfortable 
 roads." 
 
 "That is not a bad idea of yours, Miss Anderton," 
 Delane said, after a- pause. "And we could charge 
 higher rents for the houses on the streets with trees 
 and gardens," he added, with a sudden inspiration. 
 
 "You have appealed to his pocketbook," Florence 
 exclaimed, "and he will surely follow your lead." 
 
 "In your signboard," Susan said, as the motor 
 turned again into the main road, "you show another 
 instance of trying to make Greenvale effective. 
 There must be lawns, of course, if you allow that 
 very green sign to lure people to this district." 
 
 There was something quite odd in the manner in 
 which Delane seemed agreeable to everything that 
 Susan Anderton said. Almost any criticism of 
 Greenvale, verging as it did this afternoon so often 
 on the* sarcastic, made its effect with him. But in his 
 attitude toward Florence there was still something 
 aloof; it was almost as if she were not in the car. 
 
 On the way home Nora suggested that the party
 
 84 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 stop at her house for tea; but as Florence and her 
 friend thought they had had about as much of that 
 rather too effusive young woman as they could stand 
 at one time, excuses were made, and the cheerful 
 Nora was dropped at her granite front-door steps 
 as casually as she had been picked up there several 
 hours before. Max and Delane were to proceed 
 on downtown to put in another period of work at 
 their office, so Susan and Florence had their tea alone 
 upon the arrival home. 
 
 Susan was rather tired, but her mind was busy 
 in the agitation of certain things, Greenvale being 
 not the most important of them. She had been im- 
 pressed this afternoon by the somewhat strange 
 manner of Delane toward Florence. It was quite 
 as if he were afraid of her. Yet Susan knew this 
 was really not the case. Florence had always been 
 too nice, too simply frank for him to suspect or feel 
 anything in her attitude that was not of the kindest 
 motive. There is another kind of feeling which in 
 its early stages often takes on the appearance of a 
 half-shy fear. Susan remembered rather innocuous 
 young men who, later professing an undying de- 
 votion to her, had first passed through these stages 
 which are so typical of the symptoms of incipient 
 love. It would be curious if in the same situation 
 Delane, the man of affairs, should appear in this 
 light. But then, thought Susan, he is really only 
 a boy at heart. What caused her wonder as she 
 sipped her tea was something quite definitely linked 
 with alarm. Her steady gaze at Florence for a
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 85 
 
 moment made that lady ask, "Why are you so 
 serious, dear, all of a sudden?" 
 
 Susan was ready with her answer. "I wonder 
 if you terrify Delane." 
 
 "Terrify him!" Florence exclaimed, in a naturally 
 surprised tone. 
 
 "I mean nothing definite, of course," Susan went 
 on qurckly; "but you must realize, I think, that 
 Delane is far more interested in me far more 
 natural with me, which better expresses what I 
 mean than he is with you." She paused again, 
 inspecting the bottom of her teacup; then looking 
 up at Florence, said rather vaguely, "I was just 
 wondering, that is all." 
 
 Florence laughed, and Susan continued, "But you 
 know you are a terribly fine person; a much finer 
 person in every sense of the word than I am, for 
 instance." 
 
 "How absurd you are," her companion interposed. 
 
 "Nevertheless you are; and I am sure you must 
 know what I am trying to get at. You/ are precieuse. 
 It is impossible that you should not be so. I con- 
 sider myself, on the other hand, an amalgamation 
 of all sorts of things. I am an American whom 
 Europe has developed amazingly, taking on various 
 colors and traditions of things. That is why I am 
 a simpler person for Delane to approach than you 
 are, although in reality mine is a far more com- 
 plicated personality than yours; or than yours ever 
 will be, which, of course my dear, you must not 
 take as a disparagement of your own unmatchable
 
 86 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 qualities. Would that I had them. It is this very 
 contrast in our types which we must consider, which 
 we must play to the best advantage." 
 
 " Tlay' ?" Florence repeated. 
 
 "Yes; make the most of, if that is clearer," Susan 
 continued. "Delane is an impressionable person. 
 He is not hard with the perversity of tight facts, 
 really not so hard as Max is. But his horizon is 
 limited. The sky is not lowering, filled with heavy 
 clouds ; it is open and clear and ready to be illumined 
 with splendid colors. However, it is necessary to 
 a proper display that the right person shall furnish 
 the light." 
 
 "By which you mean you are the right person in 
 this particular situation," Florence said, smiling, 
 remembering the days in Paris when it was always 
 Susan who seemed to be exactly the right person in 
 the right place at all times. 
 
 "I am perfectly willing that you should take Delane 
 in hand," Florence went on. "I have my duties, as 
 you know. I cannot allow myself to become ab- 
 sorbed in the business ventures of my brother, al- 
 though I have talked to him most seriously about 
 Green vale. Since seeing the place, I feel quite 
 incapable of visions." 
 
 "There you are," Susan said quickly, hitting the 
 mark she wanted. "You and Max are alike. You 
 are too nice to see beyond the dusty vistas of bad 
 roads. But I believe Delane can see, or rather, will 
 be made to see beyond the present ugly realities, if 
 he is properly awakened."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 87 
 
 "I give you full leave," Florence said gayly. 
 
 Susan looked at her again intently for a moment. 
 Perhaps the "full leave" would be a thing of vaster 
 proportions than the delicate Florence in her soft 
 blue gown realized at the time. She appealed then 
 so strongly to Susan as a person completely detached, 
 aloof from every connection, even when the con- 
 nection should be one of sentiment or affection, that 
 it terrified her. The danger of something that 
 should strike this aloofness, this cool attitude toward 
 life, was what had impressed Susan very forcibly 
 just now. If she were given full leave, then she 
 might do something big, something rather better 
 than bringing flowers out of the wilderness. The 
 afternoon had been very full of impressions for 
 Susan ; but nothing was so strong as the realization 
 of what Delane's so-called moodiness really meant, 
 and what would happen if the remoteness of Flor- 
 ence's personality should suddenly be swung into 
 the range of a desperately intense character, belong- 
 ing quite to that other side of life to which Max 
 Kendall already was allied.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 "Increase of wages will not solve the problem; 
 social education is a duty no one must shirk. . . . 
 The tendencies of the age are toward extravagance. 
 ... In a hundred and fifty t -seven cases which we 
 investigated in New York in the factory of the 
 Ritteres and White Company we found the girls 
 spending four fifths of their wages upon clothes. 
 What can one expect then? These girls must eat, 
 live, and usually help support a family. ... If 
 they fall, are not the tendencies of the age quite as 
 much to blame as the wage scale? . . . Education, 
 a social conscience. ..." 
 
 Mrs. Williamson Sterret of Philadelphia was 
 talking before a special meeting of certain workers 
 from the Trumbull Square house what might be 
 called the Back Bay contingent at the home of Mrs. 
 Oglesby Watterson. She had been especially asked 
 to come over from her beautiful country place in the 
 suburbs of Philadelphia to speak this afternoon. 
 She was looked upon as something of an authority 
 in matters relating to the great social evil which a 
 few years ago caused such a zealous investigation 
 throughout the country. Mrs. Williamson Sterret 
 was becomingly gowned in a dress of the latest mode. 
 Her jaunty purple hat and ropes of pearls about her 
 neck, taken in combination with the fact that the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 89 
 
 dear lady was most apparently rouged and powdered, 
 produced a rather curious effect when she made her 
 various pronouncements concerning the extravagance 
 of the working girl. 
 
 The audience was composed entirely of women, 
 who in their smart afternoon frocks appeared to 
 have just dropped in on their way to tea or a bridge 
 party. There was an odeur de societe in the closely 
 packed room that suggested some luxurious affair 
 of one sort or another distinctly in contrast to the 
 usual stuffy committee-meeting smell. Florence 
 Wainwright was in the crowd. Although this spec- 
 ial branch of sociological work was something to 
 which she had given little attention, yet she had been 
 attracted to this "talk" on account of the episode with 
 Gracie Linton. She wondered if Mrs. Williamson 
 Sterret had looked deep enough into the subject to 
 find the root of all the mischief as she felt she saw 
 it vaguely in her own mind. 
 
 "They must not only be paid such wages as will 
 enable them to live decently, but they must be taught 
 how to use those wages. . . . The constant attempt 
 to be like the people above them in the social scale 
 is most pernicious. It is difficult nowadays to dis- 
 tinguish between the classes, because the working 
 girl dresses so well and really wears her clothes like 
 a lady.". . . Mrs. Williamson Sterret was droning 
 on in the same humdrum voice, unemotionally, 
 coldly, clutching a multitude of facts neatly written 
 in a little pigskin notebook with gold corners. . . . 
 "We may claim nothing society can demand noth-
 
 90 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ing from the uneducated girl who sells herself to get 
 a frock in order that she may cut the same figure as 
 her neighbor. . . . During a recent strike of stitch- 
 ers in a shirt-waist factory, every girl wore a fur 
 coat when she marched down the street to make a 
 demonstration for higher wages. Although her 
 body was warm, her stomach was undoubtedly empty 
 and her soul lost.". . . Mrs. Sterret had allowed 
 herself to soar a bit into the heights of eloquence. 
 She stopped to take a sip of ice water from the en- 
 graved glass tumbler at her side while her remarks 
 sank into the minds of her listeners. 
 
 Then came lists of factories, wages paid, and 
 figures showing the percentage of girls who had 
 fallen into the ways of sin. Statistics seem always 
 so useful, such a bulwark for the righteous of this 
 world to fall back upon when they are combating the 
 social evils of life. 
 
 Florence was listening intently, but through all 
 the droning there was not a single thought that 
 struck her vitally. A Gracie Linton many Gracie 
 Lintons hovering in the background of the 
 speaker's heavily embroidered dress, meant more 
 to her than a-11 that was being said. She was won- 
 dering, too, if Gracie Linton had ever worked in a 
 factory or shop. She was wondering if Gracie had 
 neglected her stomach in order to clothe herself in 
 a smart frock, and then as a last resort No ; she 
 did not think so. Of course, she had her own the- 
 ory. She would like to hear the speaker from Phil- 
 adelphia explode it, or show her that she was work-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 91 
 
 ing on a false hypothesis; for certainly Florence's 
 idea held in it less of credit to humanity than the 
 one usually worked upon in such matters. 
 
 "We have reached the high-water mark of salaries 
 and wages. To demand more will lead to a more 
 wholesale closing down of great mercantile establish- 
 ments than we have yet seen. . . . We must face 
 the problem of unemployment after a period of 
 thoughtless waste in the manner of living. The girl 
 out of work is a more likely victim to the great evil 
 of which I am speaking. . . ." (It will be noted 
 that Mrs. Sterret never mentioned this evil by any 
 definite name. It was for her a great abstract 
 horror which she must face in her efforts to find its 
 solution.) "The girl who has been able to keep 
 straight will fall as her sisters have done, and all our 
 endeavors must be toward giving her a suitable 
 environment and educating her in the ways of life 
 to keep her above and beyond the abyss of sin." 
 
 Mrs. Sterret paused. Evidently she had made a 
 great point. There was more droning; a report 
 was read from a clergyman in West Philadelphia; 
 also a letter from the head of an industrial school 
 for women, and Mrs. Williamson Sterret announced 
 that as she was taking the "five o'clock" to New 
 York, she must close her remarks. A thin, elderly 
 woman went forward and shook hands with her; 
 and in a buzz and chatter there was a general move- 
 ment toward the distinguished guest of the after- 
 noon. 
 
 But Florence remained sitting in the back part of
 
 92 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the room, rather lost in the confusion. A chauffeur, 
 carrying a fur coat, appeared in the hallway and 
 asked if Mrs. Brownson Brown was there; and two 
 vacant-faced youths with notebooks emerged from a 
 doorway where they evidently had concealed them- 
 selves to write up the lecture ; but just why this meet- 
 ing had been open only to women was more than 
 Florence could understand. Certainly the innocuous 
 character of the talk would have done credit to a 
 mothers' conference at which babies and the proper 
 training of the infant mind were under discussion. 
 Perhaps if Mrs. Williamson Sterret had not had 
 a train to catch, she would have revealed things 
 quite too shocking for the ears of a mixed company. 
 While Florence was wondering wondering about 
 many things ; seeing very little of her surroundings, 
 filled as she was with the vision of a foul-smelling 
 restaurant where pale-faced waitresses served pain- 
 ted girls and where rather stupid-looking men 
 sat lounging the doors were thrown open into 
 another room in which tea appeared laid out in an 
 immaculate array of silver and china under the 
 soft pink light of tall candelabra. The afternoon 
 at Umber's was still quite vivid to her. How little 
 real viciousness there seemed to be in it all; only 
 hopeless degradation. Here in this scented drawing- 
 room, among these rather stout and mostly wholly 
 unintelligent-looking women, there was for her a 
 feeling of a more actual viciousness than in the other 
 picture. Was not the remedy, the panacea for the 
 whole thing, something rather simple? Was it not
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 93 
 
 merely that the remedy had always been applied 
 at the wrong end ? It would be interesting to know. 
 She could not drink tea. She went out unobserved, 
 and calling a taxi, jumped in and drove to the South 
 End. She was going to see Gracie Linton. 
 
 The address Gracie gave her had reposed in her 
 pocketbook ever since the encounter with the girl at 
 Umber's. The house was not difficult to find, and 
 Florence dismissed the cab at the corner and walked 
 down the almost deserted street, at the end of which 
 two negroes were engaged in an altercation in the 
 middle of the road. The bell jangled noisily, and 
 presently a bedraggled-looking woman in a dirty 
 shawl and apparently little else peeped out of the 
 door, which she opened only a crack. 
 
 "Does Miss Linton live here?" Florence asked. 
 
 "Miss who?" almost screamed the person inside, 
 who might veritably have been the renowned Witch 
 of Endor returned to earth to preside over this 
 particular part of town. 
 
 "Miss Gracie Linton," Florence repeated. 
 
 "Oh, Gracie!" and immediately the door swung 
 open. 
 
 "I won't come in," Florence hurriedly added, 
 catching the vista of a very dark hallway and a dirty 
 child playing on the floor. 
 
 "She's probably just on her way out," the woman 
 explained, her face transforming itself into a horrid 
 grin. 
 
 "Will you tell her a lady would like to see her 
 for a moment."
 
 94 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 At which the keeper of the door cackled noisily, 
 then turning around, exclaimed, "Here she be now." 
 
 Gracie came out quickly to where Florence was, 
 at first looking at her curiously and then smiling. 
 "Well, of all things, this beats the devil!" she said. 
 
 "How are you?" Florence replied. 
 
 "Fine, and how's yourself?" Gracie was ready 
 in response. 
 
 "If you are going out, I will walk along a bit with 
 you," Florence went on. 
 
 "That's all right, I ain't going anywhere in par- 
 ticular." 
 
 A promenade through the South End with Gracie 
 Linton was not quite Mrs. Wainwright's idea, but 
 the possibility of a quiet chat with her in some 
 restaurant or dairy lunch remote in character from 
 the celebrated Umber's. This sort of place was 
 soon found; and Gracie and Florence were sitting 
 opposite each other at a small table in a corner. 
 Florence ordered a pot of tea and Gracie said she 
 would have a cup of black coffee, and the occasion 
 seemed conducive to a good talk. 
 
 Then came a moment when Florence was at a 
 loss how to begin. There was one thing she 
 wanted to find out. How would she go about it? 
 
 "By the way," she finally said ; "you know meeting 
 you the other night at that restaurant was quite odd." 
 
 "Not half as odd as it was to see you there," 
 Gracie replied good-naturedly. 
 
 "I think we were both surprised," Florence went 
 on. Then after a pause, "Do you go there often?"
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 95 
 
 "Every blessed night of my life," was the quick 
 response. 
 
 Then there was another pause, in which Gracie 
 looked first at her coffee, then at Mrs. Wainwright. 
 At last she said, "I guess you don't 'get me.' ' 
 
 Florence knew what she meant, and to stop further 
 beating about the bush, said as charmingly as she 
 was able, "Of course I do. I have been a great 
 deal in this part of the city. I may not have seen 
 you until the other day, but I have run into a great 
 many girls like you on the streets ; and that is why I 
 am here to-night, to ask you one question, which I 
 hope you will answer quite seriously." 
 
 "Fire away, dearie," Gracie replied, assuming 
 for the moment her other manner of the Umber 
 Cafe variety; in fact, her usual attitude toward 
 people, which had fallen from her somewhat when 
 she first met Florence. 
 
 "I want to know if you do any work in the 
 daytime." 
 
 Gracie laughed heartily at this. For a moment 
 it seemed that she would have difficulty in stopping. 
 
 "Well, you are a f reshy," she finally said. "What 
 do you know about that? Me work!" And again 
 she went off into peals of laughter. 
 
 "I just wondered," Florence added. 
 
 "I ain't done a day's work for years," Gracie 
 said, with some vehemence. "Why should I work? 
 Don't I get my dough all right, and much easier 
 than I would sweating my life out in a factory for 
 some fat calf of a bloater? Ain't I well dressed?"
 
 96 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 And she jauntily tipped her hat to one side, a new 
 hat, by the way, and rather pretty and suited to her. 
 
 "I suppose you never have had any regular work," 
 Florence pursued, bound not to be discouraged by 
 these outbreaks. 
 
 "Look here," Gracie began, evidently touched on 
 a tender spot, "what damn business is it of yours 
 if I ever worked or not? Have I asked you if you 
 work ? You know well enough what I do, although 
 I am not in the back part of the telephone book 
 among the painless dentists and beauty doctors." 
 
 The situation was becoming embarrassing. 
 Several people had come into the lunch room, and 
 Gracie' s voice was by no means low. 
 
 "I only meant to be kind to you," Florence said, 
 making a new effort. "If you like the sort of life 
 you lead, I suppose it is all right, so far as you are 
 concerned. I only wondered if you had ever 
 known any different life had ever lived in any 
 place but this, or would like to get away from this 
 neighborhood for a time." 
 
 "It ain't a farm you're talking about?" Gracie 
 asked, in a more friendly tone of voice. 
 
 "No, not a farm, nothing definite as yet." 
 
 "God deliver me from farms!" Gracie ejaculated. 
 "I was born on one of them." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Yes, really; and if you want to bury yourself 
 underground and eat worms for your daily food, 
 go and live on a farm. It's that awful." 
 
 The subject seemed closed, and Gracie looked at
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 97 
 
 a small silver watch which she took ou,t of her purse. 
 
 "Guess I must be hiking along, dearie," she said, 
 again smiling. "I hear Umber's calling me," she 
 sang to the tune of a popular song. 
 
 The two women emerged upon the dimly lighted 
 street. Grade's face looked very white in the glare 
 from the restaurant window. She was going down 
 the street; Florence, the other way. They said 
 good-night, Gracie adding, by way of good manners, 
 "Hope I see you again, old pal." 
 
 "I am sure you will," Florence replied quite 
 seriously. 
 
 She realized that she had made absolutely no 
 effect upon Gracie. It was as though the two 
 women had not met. Yet Gracie was kind. She 
 had proved it that night at Umber's when Florence 
 was feeling ill. "There must be some loophole, 
 some chink or cranny," thought Florence, "by which 
 I may some time approach her." She was dis- 
 couraged by this first attempt, but she would not 
 allow herself to be faint-hearted and give up the 
 matter now. If only a group of these Gracie 
 Lintons could be sent away to Greenvale perhaps, 
 when that place should be built to live or board 
 in some decent manner, what might not happen? 
 It was an interesting vision. Florence would like 
 to make her work something personal to herself; 
 would like to undertake some scheme for the better- 
 ment of these girls with a bit more of humanity 
 in it than the routine of the industrial homes 
 offered. She would see to it that they were amused,
 
 98 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 always diverted; and she would see to it that they 
 worked without feeling that they were slaves of 
 mere drudgery. She came back to her old theory 
 that it was the absence of congenial work it was 
 the lack of impulse to work that fills our streets 
 with the women of this class. Their minds ran 
 in but one channel, to but one thing; and they plied 
 their trade, not because they must eke out a living 
 and clothe themselves up to the latest fashion, but 
 because they did not choose to live in any other way. 
 The overworked girl of the factory, the shop girl, 
 completely fagged at the end of the day, could 
 not be at the seat and root of the whole matter 
 in the same degree as these professed prostitutes 
 were. In other words, most of the girls of this 
 latter group were not former factory employees 
 or underpaid clerks, and had little relation to the 
 great industrial question; but were what they were 
 because they did not wish to be anything else. The 
 key to the situation lay in the psychological matter 
 of the girl's tendencies, and not in the demand for 
 a higher wage. 
 
 However trying had been Florence's interview 
 with Gracie, she was glad she had seen her. It 
 gave her a firmer grasp on things. The droning 
 of the afternoon in the Back Bay drawing-room 
 had been rather confusing, distinctly depressing. 
 Now she saw more clearly along certain lines. It 
 was the tendency that must be changed, always 
 the tendency. The "back of people's minds" 
 must be different before the great millenium could
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 99 
 
 arrive. On the way home what she had to do 
 seemed well-defined, but all that she had been doing 
 appeared rather futile. 
 
 She arrived home to hurry into evening dress 
 and go with Max to a dinner and dance at a country 
 club some miles out of town. Susan had left a note 
 saying that she was off to pick up her friend, Mr. 
 Rothwell, and bring him out to the dance. Who 
 Rothwell was or from where he had appeared on the 
 scene Florence was at a loss to know. She never 
 had heard of him before. Of course there were 
 numbers of Susan's European friends that she 
 never had seen or heard of, but it struck her as 
 slightly curious that this person whom Susan would 
 unexpectedly take out to a dance had never been 
 mentioned. Possibly his name had popped up in 
 some of Susan's conversations, but Florence could 
 not recall it at the moment. Very likely he is a 
 recent acquisition perhaps vaguely known on the 
 "other side" to whom Susan must show hospital- 
 ity now that he has appeared in this country, thought 
 Florence, as she sat beside her brother in the car 
 that was taking them out to the club. 
 
 The club had that confused, heated, and somewhat 
 restless aspect which is so typical of the country-club 
 life of America. As Florence and Max came in, 
 a number of people they knew were coming down 
 the stairs into the main hallway. They stopped to 
 chat a moment, and a florid-faced man with a 
 gardenia in his buttonhole took Max's arm and 
 murmured in a confidential manner something about
 
 ioo KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 drinks. Max, beaming, departed with the red- faced 
 one. Three very young men, arm in arm and 
 slightly buoyed up for the evening by numerous 
 cocktails they had just mixed in an upstairs room, 
 sauntered into the living room and proceeded to the 
 piano, where one of them began to play "jazz" 
 music in a confused manner, the proper style for 
 jazz which is intoxicated ragtime. 
 
 But Florence could not find Susan. She was 
 not in the ladies' dressing room and apparently 
 had not arrived. Miss Anderton had a two-weeks 
 guest privilege at the club and would be able to 
 look after herself when she came in; but Florence 
 was eager to meet the mysterious Rothwell. Several 
 young girls in extremely low-cut gowns brushed 
 past her, and she overheard one of them say, "I bet 
 you he does before the evening's through" ; and 
 they went out into the hall to hang over the balus- 
 trade and talk and laugh with two youths who were 
 awaiting them. Florence remembered hersel f at the 
 debutante age, in her heavy satin dress with its 
 discreet square-cut neck; and as she looked at the 
 long expanse of back displayed by these girls, she 
 thought how modern evening dress went up and 
 down almost to the vanishing point, as the dances 
 became ever more intimate and a gentleman's shirt 
 stud could leave an imprint on an unromantic bosom. 
 There was a strong odor of perfume. Some one 
 was singing in the room below, and there was the 
 noise of chairs and tables being moved. She went 
 downstairs.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 101 
 
 Susan and her friend had just arrived, and the 
 gentleman was being introduced to Max. Florence 
 joined the little group and Mr. Hubert Rothwell 
 was presented. He was tall and erect, his head and 
 features being of the same clear straightness as the 
 rest of him. A rather high forehead and sensitive 
 nose in combination with a slight hollowness of 
 cheek gave him essentially the character of the 
 Englishman of the upper class : university bred, but 
 showing so unmistakably that finer and longer 
 breeding which, taking itself quite casually, denotes 
 its special kind of background. Perhaps in a 
 certain over- refinement of the mouth appeared the 
 only weakness in the type. His hair was dark and 
 his eyes charmingly boyish in their frank, clear 
 look. 
 
 All this Florence quite readily realized. It was 
 the sort of impression easily received, correctly 
 catalogued for what it meant. She knew the type; 
 knew what to expect of it, where to meet it. It was 
 the kind of thing, too, that one appreciates and 
 sees more clearly out of its native environment 
 than in it. The contrast to certain things American 
 added always for Florence a special charm to the 
 Englishman seen out of his own country. 
 
 Susan, who looked very happy to-night perhaps 
 on account of her friend's appearance, was explain- 
 ing how Mr. Rothwell had just arrived in Boston, 
 after landing that day from one of the few steamers 
 that still considered the old New England port a 
 possible point of debarkation.
 
 102 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "You will see us to-night then at our best," 
 Florence said. 
 
 "Or worst," Max put in. 
 
 "But all this is so typical," Florence went on. 
 
 "Yes," Susan laughed, "your country club is 
 young America rampant." 
 
 The crowd was floating into the dining room, 
 where the various groups of friends were sitting 
 down at small tables. There was a din of voices, 
 shrill and laughing. Every one seemed to be laugh- 
 ing in spite of the meagerness of anything like 
 conversation. 
 
 "I have always heard that in this country you 
 like to do things in crowds," Rothwell said, looking 
 about the room. 
 
 "Yes; that is why the country-club idea is so 
 popular," Florence replied. "There is no club life 
 in a place of this sort as an Englishman would 
 understand it. It is more like a cabaret." 
 
 "But I had some very good Scotch upstairs, which 
 is certainly a friendly note." After a moment 
 Rothwell asked, "And do you have these dances 
 often?" 
 
 "About once a month. To-night is a special 
 occasion; a celebrated 'jazz' band is over from New 
 York. I seldom come out here and practically never 
 dance since my .husband's: death; but it is un- 
 fortunate to get in a rut, isn't it, and I feel some- 
 times that I am doing that by absorbing myself too 
 much in my work." 
 
 That the very lovely Mrs. Wainwright in a pale,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 103 
 
 rose-colored dress, smiling across to Rothwell, 
 should ever get in a rut or talk about her work 
 like a tired business man was not only surprising 
 to him, but distinctly out of the picture when he 
 compared her to some of the English beauties he 
 knew who, although splendid in the war, had been 
 only too ready to drift back into the old routine of 
 bridge, hunting, and society. 
 
 Susan saw his perplexity and chimed in with a 
 cheerful, "Oh yes, every one works out here, even if 
 it is only in an amateur way, like Mrs. Wainwright." 
 
 "You mean you have a hobby?" Rothwell said. 
 "I am sure we all have that, although I do not know 
 just what mine is at the present moment." 
 
 "Pursuing me across the Atlantic perhaps," Susan 
 laughed. 
 
 Florence wondered if it were possible that this 
 young Englishman were in love with Susan. She 
 knew her friend had always evaded matrimony, 
 and as she never talked of any particular man friend 
 more often than the rest, it seemed very unlikely 
 that there was any connection between the two 
 bordering upon the romantic. Florence did not 
 know why she hoped this was the situation; but 
 she liked Mr. Rothwell very much in these first few 
 moments of conversation with him. Besides, she 
 could not fancy Miss Anderton married to anybody. 
 
 The dinner proceeded rapidly and Florence was 
 unable to find out anything which would place 
 Rothwell more clearly in her mind. She must 
 wait until later, when she could get Susan alone.
 
 104 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 She was not an idly curious person, but the tone 
 of easy familiarity between her friend and this 
 new acquaintance was certainly interesting. The 
 bantering sort of remark that passed between them, 
 such as Susan's, "You should have told that to 
 Molly at Cowes," denoted very clearly the relation 
 that existed here. They called each other by their 
 first names and seemed to take one another for 
 granted, quite as if they had been meeting every 
 day. But why, in such a case, had Susan never 
 mentioned her friend? In the evenings of quiet 
 talk since Susan came to Marlborough Street she 
 had said a great deal about her affairs past and 
 present, but never a word of Roth well, so far as 
 Florence could recollect. 
 
 The dance was under way. Florence, declining 
 Rothwell's invitation to dance, saw him take the 
 floor with Susan. He danced superbly, and 
 Florence decided she would not decline his next 
 offer. He was not at all like Jack in physique, but 
 he had a certain refinement and ease which was 
 very suggestive of her husband and which caused 
 her to look twice as he passed by. Two very pretty 
 girls came over to her and asked who the very 
 good-looking chap was, and she promised to intro- 
 duce him. A slightly intoxicated youth, one of the 
 trio who had been at the piano earlier in the evening, 
 appeared and "shimmied" off with one of the girls. 
 Then Florence found herself dancing with Rothwell. 
 It was a waltz, the only thing she cared to do. 
 She had never been very keen about the new steps,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 105 
 
 and now that she danced so seldom, she felt comfort- 
 able only when waltzing or doing a foxtrot without 
 variations. The trouble had always been, she 
 thought, that there were so many variations and 
 subtleties in every new dance that you either had to 
 do them all, or none at all. She had chosen the 
 latter course. 
 
 "I hope you will like Boston," Florence said, 
 "that is, if you are to be here any length of time." 
 
 "I believe all Englishmen like Boston and Phila- 
 delphia," Rothwell answered. "Of course I have 
 not seen New York yet." 
 
 "It was delightful that Susan could bring you out 
 here to-night." 
 
 "Susan is wonderful; equal to every situation." 
 
 "There are so many different kinds of situations," 
 Florence replied rather dryly. 
 
 "You mean big ones and little ones." 
 
 "Yes, something of the sort," Florence went on. 
 "That Susan is equal to the big ones, I know very 
 well. She is extraordinary. You see, we have been 
 friends for years and years, which of course means, 
 doesn't it, that we have encountered all kinds of situ- 
 ations together." 
 
 "And perhaps I am the latest," Rothwell added. 
 
 Florence looked at him, smiling. He was still 
 something of a mystery. 
 
 "Perhaps," was all she said. 
 
 "And you wonder if she is equal to the present 
 situation?" 
 
 "'Not at all ; for I am not sure there is one, yet."
 
 106 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 The "yet" of Florence perhaps led Rothwell's 
 mind to things a little more intricate than he had 
 foreseen in the possibilities of the conversation. He 
 remained silent. 
 
 I DON'T GIVE A DAMN IF I GO HANG BANG BANG, 
 
 ZING BANG, WHIZ ! the music seemed to say. 
 
 They were sitting down, and Susan came along 
 with Max. 
 
 "This is really a delightful surprise," Florence 
 said. 
 
 "You mean Hubert?" Susan asked quite in- 
 nocently. 
 
 "Yes," Florence continued; "but more especially 
 the fact of your having produced here in this some- 
 what prosaic town one of your delightful little epi- 
 sodes." 
 
 "How could I help it?" Susan laughed. "The 
 gentleman descended upon me. Besides, there is no 
 episode." 
 
 "Of course not," Florence said in reply. "But 
 you must admit it is in the nature of one to have you 
 produce from nowhere, without even a word of intro- 
 ductory explanation, this charming friend of yours." 
 
 Rothwell and Kendall were talking together and 
 did not hear this last passage. 
 
 "Life without footnotes is delightful, though," 
 / Susan answered. 
 
 GIVE IT UP, GIVE IT UP, ZIP, ZIP, BANG 
 
 the drums screamed. The music was becoming 
 more riotous. Everything, due to the fact that the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 107 
 
 orchestra had had several drinks, was getting nois- 
 ier and madder than ever. 
 
 Susan danced again with Rothwell, and Max with 
 his sister. A certain group of very young people 
 were indulging in a perfect orgy of "shimmying," 
 and one young man, having reached the state when 
 things in general were going around, took the safe 
 course of remaining absolutely in one place himself 
 and moved slowly back and forth with his partner in 
 a very close embrace. 
 
 Florence wondered if Rothwell noticed it. They 
 were sitting in a corner of the room as far away from 
 the music as they could get. 
 
 "You see our wickedness is all on the surface," she 
 said, as her companion watched the more hilarious 
 nembers of the crowd. 
 
 "Quite," he said. "It is all very youthful, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 Florence was not at all sure that one could dismiss 
 the scene in such a general way; at least for herself 
 it could not be done. She had a dim vision of the 
 subdued groups of men and women at Umber's Cafe. 
 Those people had been subdued by the law. Here 
 there were plenty of high lights to show that a large 
 area of dryness only meant that the wetness was con- 
 centrated upon a select few who were drinking more 
 than they ever had done in the old days. And such 
 very young boys and girls. It was rather perplex- 
 ing. Perhaps, thought Florence, the only uplift that 
 needs to be done now is among the people of my own
 
 io8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 class. The slums had been reformed, even if man- 
 kind as a whole were very little better for it. 
 
 "I hope you are to be in Boston for a time," Max 
 said to Rothwell, as he sat down next to him. 
 
 "It is a bit indefinite," Rothwell answered. "I 
 have matters to look over here. I can't tell just how 
 long this will mean for me." 
 
 Susan had been watching him closely. Florence 
 wondered if Rothwell's appearance in America was 
 quite as sudden and unexpected to Susan as it was 
 for her. Perhaps she would be able to learn very 
 little from her friend concerning this person and his 
 plans. 
 
 "Of course my stay is .quite for some time," Susan 
 interposed. "My lawyer in New York writes that 
 my uncle's affairs cannot possibly be settled for a 
 year." 
 
 Was this meant to place something definitely for 
 Rothwell? Florence would like to know. Very 
 likely the unexpectedness of his arrival upon the 
 scene made it necessary in some way for Susan to 
 disclose as much as possible of her plans without 
 seeming to say too much. 
 
 Suddenly Miss Anderton said, "You must meet 
 Mr. Kendall's associate in the land venture I spoke 
 of." 
 
 Florence could not see why Delane should be 
 dragged into this evening which was so completely 
 out of the scope of anything connected with the 
 Delanes and their interests. 
 
 But Susan went on, undeterred by the somewhat
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 109 
 
 surprised look which Florence gave her. "He would 
 amuse you." 
 
 "Jim Delane is a fine fellow," Max asserted. 
 "You must lunch with me some day at my club, and 
 I will have Delane there." 
 
 "Excellent," Rothwell answered, with that note of 
 light enthusiasm in his voice so typical of his class. 
 
 Delane, as no more than a name just now casually 
 mentioned, could mean very little for him; but his 
 "excellent" contained so much of the sense that he 
 was agreeable to any plan that might be made for 
 him that Florence looked at him, smiling in dis- 
 tinct approval at seeing his manner quite what she 
 knew it would be. Rothwell caught the look and 
 smiled back, really only getting in her glance the 
 sense of her pleasure in the situation and little seeing 
 the deeper pleasure in himself that was behind it. 
 Susan also saw the "look," the special look of 
 Florence, and into it she read something else. She 
 thought she saw a gleam in Florence's eyes which re- 
 called the old Paris days and which she had missed 
 in the present environment. It made her catch her 
 breath. 
 
 She turned to Rothwell and asked him something 
 about his trunks, over which there evidently was a 
 difficulty. 
 
 "I am sure to get them to-morrow," he answered. 
 
 "Will you dine with us next Thursday, Mr. Roth- 
 well ?" Florence said. 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure, and thank you so 
 much."
 
 i io KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 BANG WHIZ ZIPITY ZIP I DON'T GIVE A RIP 
 
 the music was blazing forth again, endlessly rest- 
 less, infinitely noisy. 
 
 There was another dance ; and our little group of 
 friends started home. When Florence and Susan 
 were getting their wraps, they encountered some 
 very breezy youths on the stairs. 
 
 "We'll take the noise sharks back in my car," one 
 of them was saying, referring to the orchestra who 
 now, after more drinks and wilder playing, would 
 certainly have to be taken back in some one's car. 
 
 "Fine! Where is Dolly Saltus?" another boy 
 said, and proceeded to stumble and slip down sev- 
 eral stairs. 
 
 "Mind your step, iBifly," someone shouted. 
 "You aren't flying now, you know." 
 
 When Florence and Susan were alone after they 
 got home that night, Florence plunged at once into 
 the mystery of Rothwell's sudden appearance. 
 
 "You see, I have known him for several years," 
 Susan replied to her friend's inquiries. "I used to 
 meet him at Cowes when I paid my annual visit in 
 August to Molly Wethersly. Hubert was always 
 at Molly's. He is such a nice fellow. I hope you 
 like him." 
 
 "I do like him very much," Florence said quietly. 
 "But how did Mr. Rothwell know you were here?" 
 
 "Oh, I had written to him," Susan answered, 
 apparently a little impatient at her friend's curiosity. 
 
 "You never spoke about him to me," Florence 
 continued.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER in 
 
 "If I talked about every one I know, you would be 
 bored to death." 
 
 So far Mrs Wainwright had not learned much. 
 A casual acquaintance met in the Isle of Wight dur- 
 ing the yachting season was how Susan had pre- 
 sented this friend : yet casual acquaintances did not 
 announce themselves by wireless and were not hus- 
 tled off to parties on the night of their arrival. 
 
 "It is delightful that he is to be here for a time," 
 Florence remarked. 
 
 "Yes, isn't it?" And there was something in Su- 
 san's tone which seemed to put an end to the discus- 
 sion of the gentleman in question. It still seemed 
 as if some mystery hung over him; as if there were 
 something about Rothwell which Susan chose to 
 keep especially to herself. 
 
 "He forms a pleasant link with your life on the 
 other side," Florence said after a moment, not wish- 
 ing to drop the subject 
 
 "As though you didn't do that, my dear, more dis- 
 tinctly than he ever could." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course," Florence said lightly. 
 "But then, I am not of the picture any more. I am 
 essentially American." 
 
 "Hardly that, but Bostonian certainly." 
 
 "By the way, I have found an apartment," Susan 
 went on. "It is an adorable little place in the West 
 End, near the river. I know I am going to love it." 
 
 "You mean we are to lose you?" Florence said, 
 really sorry at the thought of her friend's departure. 
 
 "Yes, you are to lose so much of me; but my
 
 ii2 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 morning walks along the embankment will always 
 end here. You see I am sub-renting. The place is 
 charmingly furnished. When I am settled, we must 
 have a housewarming, and I shall give a dinner party 
 for you and Max, Hubert, and Delane." 
 
 "Delane really?" Florence said, a little surprised. 
 
 "Yes ; I shall include Delane, although I draw the 
 line at sister Nora." 
 
 "But," Florence interposed ; "do you think it nec- 
 essary?" 
 
 "Nothing is ever necessary," Susan answered 
 quickly. "I loathe necessary things. But it will 
 be amusing."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Florence's dinner party had been rather slighter 
 in its success than she had anticipated. It was one 
 of those evenings when a "hitch" of some sort oc- 
 curs, and there seems to be a blight on the pro- 
 ceedings. On that particular night there had been 
 no definite moment when things went wrong no 
 traceable lack of sympathy among the guests but 
 things were not smooth, not tuned up to concert pitch 
 as Florence wished them to be. As she thought 
 back about it, she could not say what had happened 
 to cause the drop in the atmosphere. She had tried 
 to make the evening something of a formal introduc- 
 tion of Rothwell to a few of her friends. Besides 
 Constance Floyd, she had asked two students from 
 Harvard who bore names well-known in New York 
 society. These, she hoped, might be able to do 
 something for Rothwell when he should make his 
 appearance in the metropolis. Also, there was Miss 
 Grainger, a charming young Boston girl who had 
 just made her debut and was to dance in the annual 
 performance of the "Knitting Bee," a club of young 
 women not to belong to which denotes something 
 wrong in the social status of the debutante. 
 Thus the party consisted of eight, with Susan and 
 Rothwell and Max. Certainly these people were 
 well chosen to entertain one another. Nothing was
 
 114 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 lacking in the scheme of the thing. However, there 
 had been the failure to attain anything more than 
 a certain dead level of the conventional dinner party. 
 Perhaps Florence had reckoned too well; had too 
 consciously chosen her guests with the effect of a 
 special appearance in view. Or it may have been 
 that Roth well had seemed to retreat into himself up- 
 on receiving the rather too effusive greeting of Miss 
 Floyd and her apparent effort to make herself liked 
 by him Constance always outdid herself for Eng- 
 lishmen in contrast to a certain coldness she 
 showed toward Susan. Susan, moreover, had been 
 a little less entertaining than usual. She appeared 
 that night more in the manner of an observer, of 
 some one looking on at things rather than of them. 
 What she particularly "looked on" at was 
 Florence's growing interest in Rothwell ; her absorp- 
 tion in him at dinner, and the way she managed to se- 
 cure quiet moments of conversation with him later in 
 the evening. But in these slight passages Susan 
 could detect nothing in his attitude that showed any 
 special interest which Florence held for him. He 
 was wholly charming throughout the affair, appear- 
 ing quite as absorbed in the merry chatter of the 
 debutante and the more serious attempts of Miss 
 Floyd to hold his attention as he was later when sit- 
 ting with Florence in a corner. All of which was 
 quite as it should be. In Florence there was notice- 
 able again the olU brilliancy of manner, her former 
 happy self peeping out at odd moments in chance re- 
 marks. It recalled Paris days. Her gown, too,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 115 
 
 something a bit more arranged for a definite effect, 
 was noted by Susan. 
 
 After the evening was over she realized the "hitch'' 
 quite as Florence had. Perhaps she had not made 
 the proper effort to swing things along in her cus- 
 tomary way. Telephoning Florence the next morn- 
 ing, she told her how charming the party was; but 
 in her friend's tone she detected a feeling that things 
 might have been better. 
 
 "I hope," Florence said, "that Mr. Rothwell had 
 a good time." 
 
 "I am sure he did," Susan answered readily. 
 
 "I fear our Harvard boys were too young for us," 
 Florence resumed. 
 
 "You should never think that, my dear," Susan 
 laughed back. "Youth is better than champagne." 
 
 Susan's party was different. From the moment 
 Delane appeared with the news that the franchise for 
 the railway to Greenvale had been granted, things 
 went along merrily. Max made delectable cocktails ; 
 and Delane, after drinking a number of them, talked 
 most enthusiastically of the way business would go 
 forward now that the great obstacle was overcome. 
 
 "Crofton was wonderful," he explained. "I was 
 in the House all the morning, and when the matter 
 hung by a thread a certain group of old fogies be- 
 ing dead against us Crofton swung everything to 
 our side by securing the vote of his crowd. And let 
 me tell you, it is a great crowd. When those men, 
 McClancy and Knight and Foley, go out for a thing, 
 they get it. Max, old boy," slapping his partner on
 
 n6 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the back, "this is going to be a great night. Green- 
 vale is born. Before it was only conceived ; but now 
 it is born. It is here ! Our houses are not built ; our 
 streets are still mud ruts, but the spring will see it all 
 changed. Lawson and Hobbes telephoned me an 
 hour ago to get the rights to the corner piece on 
 the eastern boundary. They want a long lease and 
 will build at once. Here's to Greenvale; may she 
 boom and boom, and then s.ome!" 
 
 Susan was amused and exhilarated by the gusto 
 of Delane, and she entered into the spirit of the thing 
 whole-heartedly. 
 
 "Bravo!" she exclaimed. "To Jim Delane and 
 Max Kendall, the land boomers. May they live 
 long and see a multitude of babies born in the great 
 suburb." 
 
 Max was beaming; and Rothwell, standing apart, 
 laughed heartily at Susan's peroration. But to 
 Florence it was a little overdone. She loathed the 
 lack of sensitiveness in the man in his loud ac- 
 clamation of his success. To her it was not funny, 
 and she knew Rothwell's amusement arose from 
 the oddity of the situation. He was discovering 
 for himself the great American "I am." He was 
 seeing in the flesh one of the great American ad- 
 venturers and getting infinite enjoyment out of it 
 all. 
 
 "You mustn't count your birds before they are 
 hatched," she said, not wishing to appear too 
 definitely out of the picture. 
 
 "But my dear Mrs. Wainwright," Delane began
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 117 
 
 again ; "it is sure, sure as you are standing there, that 
 we have a great thing in Greenvale. Our agents 
 are selling lots as fast as pancakes, and we are to 
 build a lot of apartment houses even have the pros- 
 pect of getting a school put up there. All these 
 things were only waiting till we should get the elec- 
 tric cars through to our property. Well, we have got 
 'em. You can hear now the conductors on them 
 shouting, 'Next stop, Greenvale.' ' 
 
 "And see a lot of ugly women with Boston bags 
 getting out of the cars," Susan interrupted. 
 
 "You're a magician, Delane," Rothwell said. 
 
 "Yes; that's what I am," Delane replied, smiling 
 at Rothwell, whom he was beginning to like. 
 "That's what Kendall and I are. We're magicians. 
 We're 'canny,' you see; and the 'canny' people always 
 get there." 
 
 "And now for dinner," Susan said, as the servant 
 appeared in the doorway. "My table decorations 
 are green and yellow. You see everything is going 
 to be in honor of Greenvale." 
 
 This apartment that Miss Anderton had rented 
 furnished belonged to a man of somewhat large 
 experience in the really fine things of life. It was 
 particularly well suited to her individuality and in 
 the decorations of the dining-room there was a 
 warmth of color and richness in objects of excellent 
 style and design which splendidly set off Susan's 
 personality. Two Chinese punch bowls on a Jaco- 
 bean side table between massive bronze candelabra, 
 and the cupboard of royal red crockery were among
 
 n8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the distinctive articles of this setting ; while the heavy 
 design of the wall paper in deep blues and gold 
 furnished a most excellent background. The group 
 at the table with masses of yellow roses in the center 
 their green leaves making the scheme just noted 
 by Susan was remarkably intense in its individual 
 traits ; while the laughter and chatter was carelessly 
 informal. It was all in decided contrast to the 
 atmosphere of Florence's party on the previous 
 Thursday. 
 
 Florence felt this as she sat there, a little self- 
 conscious of her mood, which made it difficult for 
 her to fall into the general merrymaking of the 
 evening. It was not that she did not wish to, but 
 the highest key she could strike would probably fall 
 short of Susan's more happily attained notes. 
 Susan was always expansive, and it was really only 
 at- such times as this that her expansiveness did not 
 stand out beyond the particular scene. She was 
 completely herself to-night, the tone which the 
 evening had taken since Delane's flourish being 
 wholly in her vein. 
 
 In addition to the hostess's ample provision for 
 the dinner in the matter of food, Delane, after hear- 
 ing the result of the franchise, had brought from 
 home several bottles of gin. Max had been able 
 to produte some of his dearly bought Scotch, and 
 all this added to the merriment. Rothwell felt that 
 he was having the best time since his arrival in 
 America. Delane talked a good ( deal; but, sitting 
 at Susan's right, was easily managed by that lady
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 119 
 
 not to talk too much or over-indulge in his own 
 special topic of the night, which of course was land 
 and railways. He seemed to be developing a social 
 perspective which made him fit into the scene more 
 naturally than he had done on the former occasions 
 when Florence had had opportunities of observation. 
 Or was it, she wondered, merely because the at- 
 mosphere now was more like the one to which he 
 was accustomed in his own small experience of 
 such things? 
 
 "And now, Mr. Delane," Susan was saying, "in 
 the first flush of your success I am sure you will 
 promise that I may have tulips and a cottage and 
 live in Gardenia Terrace." 
 
 "Anything, everything you like," he answered, 
 laughing. "You may transport all the fine things 
 you left in Europe and set yourself up as the great 
 lady of the place." 
 
 "You know I am going to bespeak a flat out 
 there," Florence broke in, "with which I can do as 
 I please." 
 
 "That sounds naughty," Kendall said. 
 
 "I may make it a home for poor girls where they 
 can go for a bit of air and sunshine," Florence 
 went on. 
 
 "First rate!" Rothwell exclaimed, turning to 
 Florence. "It's an excellent idea. You must tell 
 me about it some day." 
 
 Susan was quick to notice Florence's pleasure in 
 this; and working on an idea that at this moment 
 sprung fully formed into her head, she said, "Yes ;
 
 120 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 it will be capital for you, Hubert, to become in- 
 terested in Mrs. Wainwright's pet scheme for the 
 development of her brother's property." 
 
 The thing that had popped into Susan's head so 
 suddenly was to take a more definite form later in 
 the evening when Max was presiding at the Victrola 
 to give Miss Anderton and Delane an opportunity 
 to "foxtrot" in a cleared space of the apartment; 
 Florence and Roth well were left to themselves on 
 the window seat in a little alcove which looked out 
 over the river, with its straight rows of lights like 
 diamonds on long chains engirdling the city. They 
 talked there quietly, each half -turned to the brilliant 
 expanse beneath them, glittering with a myriad 
 jewels like fine thoughts crystallized, reflecting the 
 tone of the city that lay on the edge of the waters. 
 Rothwell's high forehead and straight nose carried 
 out the effect of a fineness quite above the ordinary; 
 and as he sat slightly turned toward Florence, who 
 was leaning back against the heavy blue hangings 
 that framed this picture, there was pronouncedly the 
 note of an intimate relation; of something, up to 
 now casual, taking a definite form of understanding. 
 
 "It has an intellectual beauty," and "Even the 
 houses in this district seem not to have been built, 
 but to have grown," were chance remarks which 
 Susan overheard as she passed by to the tune of 
 the latest ragtime. Florence and her companion 
 were talking of Boston, and Susan realized the 
 ready response of Hubert to Florence's appreciation 
 of the city. So her idea grew.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 121 
 
 Here lay a possible solution of what had been 
 so long for her a difficult problem. From the time 
 of meeting Rothwell in England at the house of a 
 friend, there had been a mad infatuation on his part. 
 Susan at first had seen it in the light of many other 
 experiences of the kind when young men and by 
 that we do not infer the too young man, but in the 
 neighborhood of thirty, which happened to De 
 Rothwell's age had paid their marked devotions to 
 her, fascinated by her worldliness and the easy 
 accessibility of a rather masculine point of view; 
 all of which had passed off as soon as she had 
 removed herself to other environments. But 
 Rothwell had literally pursued her, first by letters 
 in which he warmly expressed his attitude and the 
 chasm which her departure had caused in his life. 
 Then by a flying trip to Paris in the autumn, when 
 she had ensconced herself again in her old quarters. 
 Here there had been no getting away from the fact 
 that he was in love with her. He was useful at 
 that particular time as an escort to various enter- 
 tainments of one sort or another and was im- 
 mediately liked by her friends; as he always was 
 liked everywhere, in circles of the most varying char- 
 acter. He possessed the chameleon-like personality 
 which dangerously takes on too easily the color of 
 widely divergent types. 
 
 Susan through it all for Rothwell stayed on in 
 Paris until December had been untouched by any- 
 thing approaching a real affection for the man, or, 
 as he seemed to her, the boy. She liked him im-
 
 122 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 mensely, but never having been in love and loathing 
 the idea of marriage, it was rather late for her 
 to succumb to the grand passion. She knew, more- 
 over, that his feeling for her was purely a mental 
 one. She always had appealed to a certain type 
 of sensitive man from the point of view of the 
 intellect. If Hubert would but analyze his attitude, 
 she believed firmly it would prove to be distinctly 
 removed from anything sentimental, and she told 
 him so when he finally declared himself on the eve 
 of his departure to London. She talked simply 
 and to the mark, but nothing would convince him. 
 Her statement that he had confused his heart and his 
 head brought only ironic laughter from the young 
 man; and he vowed that he would persist until he 
 made her understand, made her love him as he loved 
 her. She was distressed by the final scene and hoped 
 the winter would present in his path some charming 
 girl admirably adapted to him. This had all hap- 
 pened the last year of the war, as Roth well had 
 been invalided home with a bad heart. Then the 
 next summer came around the first summer after 
 the Armistice and in August Susan was at Molly 
 Wethersly's. Much as. she enjoyed Rothwell, in- 
 tensely as she liked being with him, she almost wished 
 he would not make his appearance at Cowes. He 
 was, in fact, delayed, but arrived in time to have 
 three glorious days of sailing on the Solent with 
 Susan preeminent in the party. He was more as- 
 sured than ever of his undying devotion and made 
 Susan promise that she would write to him.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 123 
 
 Later came the news from America that her uncle 
 had died and that her already copious fortune was 
 to be enlarged by a most substantial bequest. In 
 the trail of this came the tidings that her presence 
 was required in New York, owing to the efforts of 
 other relatives to break the will on some ground of 
 unsound m\ind, this really reducing itself to a 
 certain disrepute which Susan held in the family 
 owing to her European proclivities. But there was 
 no evading the necessity of her immediate appear- 
 ance in New York. Moreover, it worked well into 
 the situation that she should leave Paris for a time, 
 as she never knew .when Rothwell might descend up- 
 on her from London. Certainly New York was 
 more remote from such chances; so the good lady 
 packed herself off. 
 
 However, the unexpected had happened; and 
 Rothwell was in America. Before his arrival there 
 had been an interchange of letters at rather regular 
 intervals and Susan had duly announced her resi- 
 dence with old friends in Boston. She had written 
 to him regularly with a purpose, for she was begin- 
 ning to feel sorry for the youth who held the pos- 
 sibilities of a life-long devotion to her. She had 
 seen too much and been under the grind of too many 
 events not to realize the value of such faith. She 
 must accept it for all it was worth ; and with the ad- 
 vantage of the intervening seas, she thought she 
 committed no breach of her established attitude by 
 being as kind to Rothwell as was possible. His 
 wireless message which announced his arrival in
 
 124 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Boston had amazed her to the point of being for the 
 moment swept off her feet. Of course, under the 
 exigencies of the situation, there was nothing to do 
 but go on being kind to him and, as Hubert would 
 interpret it, being kinder and kinder. 
 
 Up to this evening, however, there had been no 
 passage between the two such as had occurred in 
 Paris. Susan was resolved to keep Hubert now and 
 forever on the easy footing of a friend. She knew 
 it would be hard, but if he would not come to see 
 these terms as the only possible ones of their relation 
 to each other, she must definitely give him up even 
 as a friend, however difficult it might be to make 
 him comprehend. To-night, as she watched Flor- 
 ence with him, she conceived how easy it would be to 
 bring this new situation to her aid in solving her 
 problem, if he would only take a sufficient interest 
 in her friend. She had known from the moment 
 she noted the "look" in Florence's eyes when she 
 met Rothwell that Florence was falling in love with 
 him. All her mood of the past fortnight, in its 
 animation and a certain new lightness of spirit, 
 confirmed Susan in her first impression. How 
 wonderful it would be, thought Susan, if Hubert 
 in his turn should fall in love with Florence. She 
 believed herself capable of achieving a good deal 
 toward this end. There was no time to be lost; 
 and stopping breathless before the group in the 
 window, she said it was their turn to "take the floor," 
 there being floor really for only one couple at a time. 
 
 Rothwell arose as Susan crossed over to Delane,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 125 
 
 who had taken possession of the talking machine. 
 
 "Put on a waltz," she said. 
 
 Without a word Florence rose as the music 
 started. By some happy chance it was the "Fleder- 
 maus," a waltz she particularly loved. She stood 
 a moment, looking at Rothwell and smiling; and 
 then went swinging off with him. He danced 
 divinely. Suddenly she seemed to feel that she was 
 not herself; that is, not the person she had known 
 herself to be the past few years. It was as though 
 her later experiences had dropped from her and 
 she was as she used to be, carelessly free of life in 
 any of its larger moods. In the room filled with 
 the more or less ornate trappings of Europe 
 brocades, altarpieces, dim, shaded lamps, and lux- 
 urious color of soft hangings she got the impres- 
 sion of being in some other land, some place filled 
 with the memories of things which she had long 
 considered lost to her forever. For the time she 
 seemed to forget all that had happened since her 
 old dancing days. All the changes she had been 
 through vanished, and she was filled only with the 
 sense of this tall, straight man before her, who held 
 her so firmly and guided her so easily around the 
 various obstacles of chairs and tables. The close 
 contact with him made her glow with a certain ex- 
 hilaration. He said nothing; but when the music 
 stopped, he requested that the record be played again, 
 and Florence was caught up in that merry whirl of 
 melody which corresponded so wonderfully to her 
 own enjoyment of the thing.
 
 126 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Then there was another dance. The table in the 
 dining room was moved, and Susan and Max took 
 possession of the floor in there. Delane, as man- 
 ipulator of the music, stood intent on his business, 
 scarcely taking his eyes from the perusal of records 
 and the changing of needles in the machine. He 
 was very serious, occasionally glancing up at Flor- 
 ence as she and her partner passed near him. His 
 face had an odd expression; but Florence, although 
 she could not help noticing it, little realized any 
 distinct meaning which it held. Susan, from the 
 other room, was able to look out upon Delane and 
 saw at once that he had been long enough out of 
 the picture. His mood and manner denoted for 
 her his displeasure in something. 
 
 "Come, Delane," she said, moving into the larger 
 room, "you must dance again. I will not vouch 
 for you as Mrs. Wainwright's next partner, for you 
 really dance abominably," Delane knew he did and 
 laughed, "but you will do for me." 
 
 However, there had been enough dancing. Some 
 one suggested a pause for liquid refreshment. 
 This agreed admirably with the desire of the little 
 group. The last bottle of gin was opened, and 
 Susan procured ginger ale and sandwiches. 
 
 "Do you know," Delane began, "that we ought 
 to have these little parties regularly. We could 
 meet around at our different houses but always 
 keep to the same crowd. Just us five, you see." 
 
 Florence loathed the idea the moment she heard 
 of "meeting around." All in the best suburban man-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 127 
 
 ner, she thought. Who would send a broadside 
 into this new scheme? She did not like to, as it 
 was hardly her affair at all. Surely Susan would 
 come to the rescue in her best style. 
 
 "Don't you think, though," iSusan replied to 
 Delane's suggestion, "that this sort of thing is better 
 done casually and when the spirit moves than by 
 any arrangement of definite meetings?" 
 
 "Probably," Delane said, apparently convinced 
 that anything Susan might say would be right. 
 
 After the dance with Rothwell, Florence was 
 quite ready to go home. She was filled with the 
 sense of things happily managed if only she should 
 not be submitted to more of Delane's companionship. 
 It appeared to her suddenly that she must that it 
 was her duty to take Rothwell in hand and place 
 him more securely in the proper Boston set than 
 would be possible if he should stick fast to this small, 
 but for him, amusing circle of Susan's. He was 
 such a splendid type ; Florence liked him so much that 
 she felt it would be a loss, not only to the gentleman 
 himself but to certain charming people he might 
 meet, if he were allowed to complete his sojurn in the 
 city without knowing her particular friends. This 
 was uppermost in her mind as she said goodnight 
 and started home with her brother. Delane and 
 Rothwell went off together up Beacon Hill. 
 
 Susan waved them all good-by from the top of the 
 stairway outside her door ; and then, retreating to her 
 snug little sitting room, she looked out over the river 
 to the confused twinkling of the lights. Much was
 
 128 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ahead of her to do; but the happy relationship which 
 seemed to have sprung up between Florence and 
 Rothwell was not so perplexing to her as what might 
 lie in the heavy expression of Delane's face as he 
 stood, manipulator of the music, while her two 
 friends danced. Could she so manage it that he 
 would be manipulator of the music to the end; or 
 would he too wish to dance?
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 During the Christmas season Florence saw a good 
 deal of Hubert. They went together on a number 
 of shopping excursions, although the absurdly high 
 price of things and their wretched quality made the 
 giving of Christmas presents, as Florence remarked, 
 rather a stupid performance for a person of taste. 
 Picking up one day in a shop an imitation woolen 
 scarf marked $14.50, she said, "Only an idiot would 
 be taken in by such things, and I do not choose to be 
 the idiot. Let's go and have tea." That was 
 the way their expeditions usually ended, and they 
 would either drop into a hotel or return to Marl- 
 borough Street and get their tea at home, when Su- 
 san was very likely to appear on the scene. 
 
 Hubert also helped Florence arrange the Christ- 
 mas tree at her settlement house and looked in on the 
 happy throng on the afternoon of the great day, 
 when the mere presence of Mrs. Wainwright seemed 
 to add as much brightness to the occasion as the flam- 
 ing little candles amid the green and sparkling dec- 
 orations. Then came the holidays, and Florence 
 took Rothwell to a number of parties, especially to 
 one very elaborate ball which followed the "coming 
 out" into society of some one or other. Susan and 
 Max appeared at this affair also, although they were 
 somewhat lesser lights to Florence and her good- 
 looking friend. Every one was glad to see Mrs.
 
 i 3 o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Wainwright again going about with her old 
 "crowd," and the groups of friends that constantly 
 came up to greet her almost made the party a "com- 
 ing back" for her quite as brilliant as the "coming 
 out" of the young lady whose mother was hostess. 
 
 Florence decided that Hubert was quite the most 
 delightful companion she had had in many a day; 
 and the young man himself was warm in his praises 
 of Mrs. Wainwright, admitting to Susan that he did 
 not know when he had liked any one so well and 
 hoped that Miss Anderton would not think that he 
 was deserting her. At this Susan was tremendously 
 amused, saying that the very thing that pleased her 
 best was to see him taking an interest in some one 
 other than herself. 
 
 "You know I am an old lady," she said. 
 
 "I know you are a trump," Roth well retorted, 
 "and to talk of your age is absurd." 
 
 But the situation, so far as Susan was concerned, 
 had been cleared soon after Christmas by the fact 
 that that lady had spent most of her time in New 
 York. The case of her uncle's will was well under 
 way, and her presence was required on the scene of 
 action. During Lent she went to the Virginia Hot 
 Springs to recuperate from the worry incident to the 
 litigation over the will case. She positively had re- 
 fused Hubert permission to go with her; and, as a 
 matter of fact, he was having such a good time in 
 Boston that he had little desire to 'leave town. It 
 was characteristic of Miss Anderton's way of doing 
 things that, having installed herself in the Boston
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 131 
 
 flat, she should pass this over during her absence to 
 her English friend. Here Rothvvell had established 
 himself for the winter. It also worked quite into 
 Susan's scheme that the business matters in New 
 York should be made as much of as possible and 
 lengthened out perhaps more than was really nec- 
 essary in order that the Boston setting should be 
 clear for Hubert and Florence. She placed great 
 faith in Florence's no uncertain infatuation for Hu- 
 bert, which would have a free stage only if she her- 
 self were out of the way. Delane, happily for Flor- 
 ence, had been quite out of this picture during the 
 winter; as he had been too busy with business mat- 
 ters to have much time for seeing her, and then had 
 gone for a month to Florida to accompany his 
 mother and father to their winter place there. It 
 was a little hard on Max, Florence thought, to have 
 the whole of Green vale affairs thrust on his shoul- 
 ders at the very time when things were going at a 
 very rapid rate in the development of the land; but 
 Max was too flushed with success to grumble, and 
 Florence realized it was none of her business how 
 much responsibility Delane put upon her brother. 
 
 One morning in April, soon after her return from 
 Virginia, Susan dropped in to see Florence and tell 
 her about the result of her New York affairs. The 
 matter of the will was to be carried into higher 
 courts, as is invariably the way in such things ; and 
 it would be some time before she would know just 
 what windfall was coming to her from her uncle's 
 estate. What was really uppermost in Susan's
 
 i 3 2 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 mind this morning, however, was to feel the ground 
 as to just how far Hubert and Florence had pro- 
 gressed in their relation to each other. During the 
 few days since her return she had been able to find 
 out very little of what actually had happened in her 
 absence, beyond the enthusiastic and rather boyish 
 account which Hubert gave of some of the entertain- 
 ments at which he had been present during the 
 Boston season. That Florence had been more than 
 kind to him was apparent in every connection of 
 which he spoke. But these occasions of kindness 
 were of the general sort, in crowds and in large 
 affairs, which carried for Susan no hint or suggestion 
 of any more intimate relation between himself and 
 Mrs. Wainwright than had existed before she went 
 away. 
 
 As she came this morning into the upstairs sitting 
 room of the Marlborough Street house, where the 
 sun was streaming in, making long lines of vibrating 
 light across the violet-blue rug, and saw Florence in 
 a pink gown against a background of yellow flowers, 
 she felt more than ever the peculiar appropriateness 
 of all this the scene and Florence so completely 
 within it to Hubert and what he might gloriously 
 make of it. The refinement and charm of it was a 
 picture to Susan of what she had always felt was the 
 soul of Roth well. His English home, which she 
 knew had been one of fine traditions, could not so 
 have fitted the young man as this Boston setting. 
 Here he would be perfectly placed. It was, too, a 
 visualization of what the essence of the Boston man-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 133 
 
 ner stood for in contrast to the English one. It was 
 as though the top of the New England achievement 
 had shed through the past decade much of the old 
 English materialism, emerging in the Kendalls and 
 all their kind in a finer and more rarified atmosphere, 
 losing nothing of comfort in the process but adding 
 to it an immeasurable degree of mentality and spirit- 
 uality. 
 
 "You are like a spring flower this morning, my 
 dear," Susan said, as she sat down. 
 
 "I am sure I don't feel like one," Florence replied. 
 
 She had a newspaper on her lap, which she handed 
 to her friend. 
 
 "I suppose you haven't seen this item about 
 Delane's motor running down a girl last night," she 
 added. 
 
 "I never read the local news," Susan returned. 
 "I skip it all. The local news in our papers con- 
 sists mainly of a detailed account of accidents and 
 murders in the slums with the portrait of some 
 one's mother, or the face of a girl whom one never 
 would have seen, even if she had not been murdered 
 or run over. But, really, what has happened that 
 seems to lay you so low?" 
 
 "Merely, according to your standpoint, that De- 
 lane's car knocked down a girl last night and quite 
 seriously injured her. Of course, the only particu- 
 lars given in the newspaper are that Delane is a 
 prominent young business man behind the Green- 
 vafe venture and that his car is a high-powered 
 Packard limousine. It is too disgusting as though
 
 i 3 4 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the recklessness of fast driving at night and the in- 
 juries to the girl are not the most important thing. 
 Max called me up from the office before I had fin- 
 ished breakfast to ask if I would go to the City Hos- 
 pital with Delane to see his victim." 
 
 At this Susan looked up quickly. "You make 
 him rather a beast, don't you?" she asked. 
 
 "Of course I had to go," Florence went on, 
 without giving heed. "As Max said, it seemed 
 rather in my line, especially as the accident hap- 
 pened in the district where I work. Delane called 
 for me, and I got the particulars of the thing on 
 the way. Nora Delane was being rushed home 
 from the theater with four or five friends when 
 they ran down a girl crossing the street. The 
 curious part is that this girl turns out to be the 
 pal of Gracie Linton about! whom I told you. 
 Gracie was at the hospital with her friend, appar- 
 ently having spent the night at her bedside. She 
 looked upon me as a sort of angel dropped down 
 from heaven; and I really think my appearance 
 caused her more surprise than the accident to 
 Tommy." 
 
 "Tommy?" Susan inquired. 
 
 "Yes; that's the other girl's name." 
 
 "Is she badly hurt?" 
 
 "Leg broken and severe shaking up," Florence 
 replied. "She will pull through all right; but to 
 me the extraordinary thing is the calm and matter- 
 of-fact way in which Delane views the matter. He 
 says his lawyer will fix it so that no charge of
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 135 
 
 manslaughter can be entered against his chauffeur; 
 and he gave me some money to buy things for 
 the girl. It is so annoying! He will wash his 
 hands of the affair by distributing a few dollars. 
 As though Tommy's leg isn't as important as that 
 of any other girl. I can just fancy how he would 
 have behaved if the thing had happened to some 
 one living over here in the Back Bay. In that 
 case, sister Nora would have appeared in her 
 yellow furs in great style. As it is she hasn't 
 shown up at all. Delane says she is in a state of 
 nerves due to the excitement of the accident." 
 
 "Which is her natural state," Susan laughed. 
 "But aren't you rather hard on them ?" 
 
 "They are all hard themselves," Florence returned. 
 "I told Delane that here was a chance for him to 
 do something splendid; and he scarcely took me in. 
 He thought I meant something in the matter of 
 money, doctor's fees and all that. That is as far 
 as he can see his responsibility." 
 
 All this might have interested Susan at some other 
 time; but just now she had other things in mind. 
 
 "I am sure Hubert would do something fine in 
 such a case," she ventured. 
 
 "I know he would," Florence replied with convic- 
 tion. "He would be all there in any situation." 
 
 Susan said nothing to this for a moment; but 
 finally, "He thinks you are splendid." 
 
 Florence looked up quickly and rather "took in" 
 Miss Anderton, as if wondering if Hubert really had 
 said that, and if he had said it, just how much he
 
 136 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 meant by it. The moment of silence was broken 
 by Susan, who remarked that Florence had undoubt- 
 edly had a trying morning and that she would take 
 herself off straightway. 
 
 Florence, who was going back to the hospital that 
 afternoon to see Tommy, wished that Rothwell 
 might go with her. She thought she would call him 
 up on the telephone, yet felt a slight awkwardness 
 in always taking the initiative in their plans together. 
 Through the winter it nearly always had been her 
 arrangements for him that had thrown them with 
 each other; and with her growing consciousness of 
 her interest in him, she realized that it was beginning 
 to be the old story of the woman pursuing the man. 
 If the fascination he held for her had been a thing 
 of minor importance, she would have felt perfectly 
 all right to try to get 'hold of him 'for any and 
 all occasions. However, this visit to the hospital 
 was really rather a tiresome business; she thought 
 it better to leave Hubert out of the matter. 
 
 As she walked through the South End later in 
 the day and saw the dome of the hospital, quite 
 French in its way, at the end of a long vista of 
 trees, she felt the peculiar charm of what had thus 
 far been her relationship to the Englishman. This 
 bit of old Boston was of particular charm, and re- 
 mote from the often confused obtrusiveness of the 
 more modern parts of town. To Florence, Rothwell 
 was in some way like this ; he belonged not quite to 
 the present. One could scarcely call him old-fash- 
 ioned ; and yet in his personality the emphasis seemed
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 137 
 
 always upon the charming things in life rather than 
 upon the merely successful. She remembered a walk 
 with him early in the winter when she had showed 
 him the city, and his keen appreciation of the char- 
 acteristics of the different districts they wandered 
 through. How many points of individuality Boston 
 really had. There were more neighborhoods and 
 localities, all differing totally from one another, than 
 she could remember in any American city. Most 
 large towns had an expression that went through the 
 whole community ; but here the aspect was different 
 in every section. There were the West End red 
 brick houses, which Rothwell noted as more English 
 than modern London; the Back Bay, with a certain 
 blandness like a grand old lady looking remotely 
 through her lorgnon. The North End, with its 
 narrow ways, sudden corners, and diverting vistas, 
 Rothwell had wished to paint ; while at the other end 
 of town in the Fenway, in the array of schools and 
 scientific institutions, museums and hospitals, they 
 both had realized the effect of culture laid on thick. 
 Here in the South End a rather frayed Victorianism 
 pervaded the scene until one seemed to catch the very 
 smell of horsehair furniture. 
 
 Yes; Florence wished Hubert were with her. 
 Especially, when at the end of the quiet square in 
 front of the hospital she saw Delane's car. In its 
 glistening newness and bright blue coat of paint 
 there was something distinctly in contrast to the 
 dinginess of the neighborhood. She wondered why 
 Delane had come again to see Tommy that day;
 
 138 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 surely his business was too important to permit him 
 to make such frequent visits to a poor, unknown 
 girl who had been injured by his motor. When she 
 got inside and went down the long Accident Ward, 
 she could see his broad shoulders and head by the 
 bed of Tommy. Gracie was sitting there, and 
 Delane standing above, smiling down at the two 
 girls; but especially, as Florence noted as she came 
 nearer, smiling at Gracie. There appeared to be 
 much laughter and the best sort of understanding 
 between the persons of the little group, none of 
 whom was aware of the presence of Mrs. Wain- 
 wright until she was directly upon them. 
 
 Delane at once looked up, and shaking hands 
 with her, remarked that Tommy was indeed fortu- 
 nate in having two friends who were so attentive to 
 her. 
 
 "It's worth being run over, isn't it," Gracie said, 
 "when you find two pals like these." 
 
 Tommy smiled back faintly and put out her hand, 
 which Florence took and held several moments. 
 A nurse appearing just then, Florence asked how 
 soon Tommy would be able to leave the hospital; 
 she was told probably at the end of three or four 
 weeks. 
 
 Thereupon Delane said, "First rate; I will come 
 to see you often and you just let Mrs. Wainwright 
 know if there is anything I can do for you." 
 
 "You are certainly very kind, sir," Tommy said, 
 as Delane started to go. 
 
 "Don't mention it," he answered. Then, turning
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 139 
 
 to Florence, he asked if he might be allowed to take 
 her home. He was going to see the head nurse 
 about certain things and would come back for her 
 in ten minutes. 
 
 Gracie was leaving just then and walked away 
 with Delane. As Florence saw them going down the 
 ward, there was something in the situation which 
 was not altogether pleasant to her. She could not 
 have said just what it was ; but the fact that Delane 
 had come twice to the hospital in one day and seemed 
 on such a friendly footing with both Tommy and 
 Gracie denoted for her something more than the 
 casual interest which up to now he had shown in 
 the injuries to the girl. 
 
 Florence sat and talked with Tommy, who was 
 really very weak. As she lay there, pale and fragile, 
 her dark hair done loosely down her back and look- 
 ing very soft against the whiteness of the pillow, 
 Florence felt a great pity for her. She seemed so 
 different now, with all the paint and powder and 
 shoddy clothes removed ; and was so natural, so like 
 a great many other girls. And even her manner 
 was different, with the superficial coarseness quite 
 gone. If, when she recovered, she could be taken 
 away in just this condition, away from her old 
 life, dressed in new clothes and never see or come 
 in contact with any of her old associations, what 
 might not be done, thought Florence, in helping 
 this girl to become a normal, healthy human being. 
 It was too soon yet to say anything to Gracie about 
 the plan she had in mind for her in connection with
 
 140 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Greenvale; but certainly it would bear thinking of. 
 More especially now that she had seen Tommy in 
 this condition, the possibilities of a complete renewal 
 of her personality seemed more feasible than ever. 
 Besides, there was something very sweet in Gracie's 
 devotion to her pal. Here in the hospital the two 
 girls appeared entirely natural and quite capable of 
 a better life than the one they had been leading. 
 So much might be accomplished with the two of 
 them, while with one it would be more difficult ; 
 for each could help and support the other in any 
 attempt along the lines which Florence contem- 
 plated. 
 
 But here was Delane again; and a bell, ringing 
 at one end of the room, announced that the visitors 
 must go. 
 
 "Well," said Delane, on the way back to Marl- 
 borough Street, "it certainly has come out better 
 than we could have expected." 
 
 "How do you mean?" Florence asked. 
 
 "Oh, that her injuries aren't any worse. Some- 
 times you get into awful scrapes in these things." 
 
 "I should think quite likely," Florence interrupted. 
 
 "In South Boston once," he went on, "I came near 
 getting into a mess about a child my car hit. The 
 child's father tried to make it hot for me ; but fortun- 
 ately I had friends at City Hall, and they settled the 
 thing devilish quick." 
 
 "And what became of the child?" Florence in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Oh, the kid got well, I suppose. It was in the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 141 
 
 hospital some time, but children's bones don't take 
 long to mend." 
 
 "Didn't you ever find out about it?" 
 
 "No; I don't have the time to follow up these 
 things. I gave the father five hundred dollars. 
 That seems big, but it really was not much, consider- 
 ing what I might have had to pay if the matter had 
 come into court." 
 
 The hardness of Delane was becoming more and 
 more apparent to Florence. She had not cared for 
 him from the first ; but she had tried to see only his 
 best side on account of her brother's relation to 
 him. Susan had taken a rather glowing view of 
 the possibilities in him, Florence could not see 
 them. 
 
 After a rather long silence he said suddenly, 
 "Come, Mrs. Wainwright, stay out to dinner with 
 me somewhere. You don't have to get back to your 
 brother. Let's go on a little spree together." 
 
 "I am afraid I am not in the mood for a lark," 
 Florence replied. "Besides," she added, "I am 
 expecting Miss Anderton to dinner." 
 
 She knew it was unkind in her not to ask him 
 to the house also; but she really did not want him. 
 She could not make him out. Was he merely trying 
 to be nice to her, to play up to the situation on 
 account of Max; or was he taking something of an 
 interest in her? 
 
 "You know," he said, "you are the sort of person, 
 Mrs. Wainwright, that it does a fellow like me a 
 lot of good to know. I have been rather wild in
 
 142 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 my time, and I suppose I am still, in a way, under 
 the surface ; but I think knowing some one like you 
 would help a great deal. Of course, Nora is all 
 right; she's one fine girl. I hope you like Nora. 
 But she has her own interests, and goes about with 
 her own set, and isn't very much at home. There 
 really is not any one for me to be especially fond of . ' 
 
 Right here it seemed high time to turn the con- 
 versation. Florence had no intention of being 
 Delane's guardian angel or the saving grace of his 
 life. The arrival home, however, made any move 
 on her part unnecessary. 
 
 As she said good-by, thanking him for bringing 
 her back, he held her hand a moment, pressing it 
 a little too warmly. There was an awkward pause 
 until Florence drew away quickly and disappeared 
 into the house. As she had expected, Susan was 
 there and came into the hall to greet her. When 
 Florence told her that on the way home Delane had 
 been rather personal in his remarks, that lady merely 
 said, "I think he has a 'crush' on you, my dear." 
 
 "What a ridiculous idea," Florence exclaimed, 
 as she hurried upstairs to dress for dinner. 
 
 For Susan, however, there was nothing ridiculous 
 in it; especially in view of what she had suspected 
 on several former occasions. She wondered how 
 long it would take her friend to discover Delane's 
 state of mind. She must be more watchful than 
 ever, not only on Florence's account but because 
 of Hubert. Where was he, anyway, Susan won- 
 dered; why hadn't he been on the scene to-night?
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Certainly, if Delane had any serious intentions 
 concerning Florence, it would be rather an obstacle 
 to what Susan might plan for Hubert. Delane 
 was too important in the scheme of things to be 
 turned aside casually from his purposes. He was 
 the sort that must be dealt with. The situation, as 
 Susan now saw it, had many angles and corners for 
 them all. Whether she would try to turn the first 
 corner in order that she might find out more clearly 
 Delane's feelings in the matter was what came up 
 for her immediate decision. No move, however, 
 on her part was necessary, as Delane himself ap- 
 peared a few nights later at her flat. 
 
 As he sat by an open window where a fresh breeze 
 blew in from the river, slightly ruffling his hair, he 
 showed undoubtedly to the best advantage. Susan 
 had never realized before the full strength of his 
 features. He was a type that is seen to the best in 
 some effect of half lights and shadow, and not in 
 the brilliant glare of a drawing-room or against a 
 background incongruous to his casual manners. 
 
 "You're a funny sort," Susan remarked, after a 
 pause which had seemed interminable. 
 
 "How do you mean?" Delane asked in a listless 
 tone of voice.
 
 144 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Why, ' she answered, "you have sat there fully 
 five minutes, completely oblivious of my presence." 
 
 "Excuse me," Delane was quick to reply; "but 
 I was thinking." 
 
 "What were you thinking about, Greenvale?" 
 
 "Not especially. Why is it, I wonder, that people 
 always suppose I am thinking about Greenvale. 
 Certainly I am a human being and have a mind for 
 something besides my work." 
 
 "Of course," Susan said. "But you always give 
 the impression of being frightfully absorbed, ab- 
 sorbed as you are now in the river and the view." 
 
 "I wasn't thinking of the river." 
 
 "Of me perhaps." 
 
 "You are very flattering to yourself." 
 
 "One has to be sometimes," Susan went on. 
 
 "Has any one failed you?" Delane asked with 
 sudden interest. 
 
 "Certainly not; I was only teasing you." 
 
 There was another pause in which he continued 
 to gaze out of the window, when Susan, seizing the 
 opportune moment, flung out, "I think you are in 
 love." 
 
 Delane turned quickly to her, but said nothing. 
 
 "If you are like the rest of the men I know," 
 Susan remarked, "you surely have your little love 
 affairs." 
 
 "I don't think there is any such thing as a little 
 love affair," he answered slowly. 
 
 "A big one then." 
 
 "The big ones people don't talk about."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 145 
 
 Susan was beginning to see that she would not get 
 very far in finding out his present state of mind. 
 After a moment she continued, "Mrs. Wainwright 
 told me of your mishap the other night." 
 
 "That was rather bad," he replied. "It was good 
 of Mrs. Wainwright, though, to go to the hospital 
 to see the girl. She turned out to be somebody 
 she knew. I think she has been over again to-day to 
 take some things. It is mighty kind of her, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "Florence is always like that," Susan said. 
 
 "Yes ; but what a cool sort of person she is, after 
 all." 
 
 "How do you mean?" 
 
 "Perhaps I should say cold," Delane went on; 
 "and yet that is not exactly my idea of her." 
 
 "Remote would hit it nearer," Susan interrupted. 
 
 "Yes, 'remote' ; that's the word. She is so charm- 
 ing and good and all that; but she never seems 
 to really want you to know her to admit you to 
 her friendship. I can't quite understand her." 
 
 "Perhaps that is because you don't really know 
 her." 
 
 "I would like to know her, to know her awfully 
 well." 
 
 "In what way?" Susan inquired as casually as 
 possible, but thinking that something might be 
 forthcoming now which would give her a firmer 
 grasp of the situation. 
 
 "To be her friend," was all that Delane said in 
 reply.
 
 146 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "But you are her friend, I am sure," Susan re- 
 turned. 
 
 "Perhaps, to a certain extent." 
 
 "You see," she pursued, "Florence is too absorbed 
 in her work to feel much interest in seeking inti- 
 mate friendships. To her, her work is everything, 
 and what we choose to call her remoteness is merely 
 her concentration in that work. I have noticed the 
 difference since my return from Europe. We used 
 to be so much together, and I seemed a part of her 
 life. Now, although I am with her a great deal, 
 it is as if I were only an incident among her many 
 other activities. 
 
 Here Susan saw her advantage by placing Flor- 
 ence in Delane's conception quite out of the sphere 
 of his life. If she could only make him feel that 
 Mrs. Wainwright could have no possible interest 
 in him beyond his connection with Greenvale and 
 Max, it might be the means of turning the corner of 
 his infatuation. 
 
 "Yes," she was saying, "I am not surprised that 
 you have noticed this characteristic in my friend. 
 We all feel it. Florence is such a dear, but some- 
 times we wish that we could get a little nearer to 
 her." 
 
 "I don't see why the slum work appeals to her so 
 much," Delane interposed. 
 
 "Oh, that is just what I mean," Susan said. 
 "Her work is her life. She has given herself to 
 it completely, just as she gave herself to Jack Wain- 
 wright. I think it is really because she loved her
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 147 
 
 husband so much that it would be impossible for 
 any one ever to take his place." 
 
 "You think she will never marry again?" 
 "I should consider it extremely doubtful." 
 "But isn't she rather fond of Rothwell?" Delane 
 asked. 
 
 "Hubert, my dear fellow, is my friend. He came 
 over from England to see me. Whatever made 
 you imagine there was anything between him and 
 Florence?" 
 
 "Oh, simply," Delane remarked, "because I think 
 they were together a good deal last winter. At 
 least, Max said they were. I never go around in 
 their crowd, so I suppose I don't really know very 
 much about it." 
 
 There was something so taken for granted in the 
 way Delane constantly put himself out of Flor- 
 ence's set that Susan felt sorry for him. His in- 
 timate connection with Max in business and his 
 remoteness from Kendall's social life was distinctly 
 annoying to her. It was the sort of thing, she knew, 
 that happened frequently in the great American 
 democracy; but the old families that could stoop to 
 the millions of the self-made man she would like to 
 see mingle a little more with the maker of those 
 millions. Delane seemed to her an eligible person 
 if a few exterior roughnesses were polished down 
 a bit ; and even now, since first meeting him six 
 months before, she could see a great difference. 
 His manner of dressing was less obtrusive, and he 
 talked very well when he was thoroughly interested
 
 I 4 8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 in a subject. However, for her present occasion 
 she could not let the opportunity fail her of agree- 
 ing with him as to whatever coldness he felt in 
 Florence that he might continue to see himself on the 
 outside of that connection. 
 
 "Your Kendalls and the rest of their sort," Susan 
 f>egan again, "are a fetish; and adoring generations 
 of people just beyond the pale have made them be- 
 lieve they are the elect of the Lord. I won't deny 
 that they are a pretty fine lot, about as good all 
 around as one would wish to see ; but in these days 
 when hero worship is distinctly mid-Victorian, one 
 would enjoy the spectacle of a few pedestals knocked 
 down. The difficulty is, though, that we have only 
 money bags to take their place." 
 
 "You talk confoundedly well, Miss Anderton," 
 Delane said, laughing; "but I don't always follow 
 you." 
 
 "I wish you would call me Susan," that lady re- 
 marked. "Just feel that I am your real friend; 
 and that you will find me 'all there' in any situation." 
 
 "You're all right, Susan dear," Delane responded 
 heartily, with the faintest trace of an Irish brogue, 
 "and Jim Delane knows which side his bread is but- 
 tered on." 
 
 They were both laughing at their sudden burst 
 of enthusiasm for each other when the doorbell rang, 
 and Rothwell appeared on the scene. 
 
 "I am very fortunate to-night," Susan said, as she 
 greeted him. "It is not often that I have two men 
 drop in unexpectedly this way. It is first rate.
 
 .KENDALL'S SISTER 149 
 
 Sit down, both of you, and I will get out my last 
 bottle of Scotch." 
 
 Whether or not the drink which Susan produced 
 had the tendency to make Delane silent and Roth- 
 w r ell voluble, it would be hard to say; but at any 
 rate, the former young gentleman became remark- 
 ably quiet and soon after made his departure; while 
 Hubert, although seeing that Susan wished to write 
 some letters, insisted that she should sit down and 
 talk with him, as he had much to say. 
 
 "In fact," he began, "I have come to propose 
 for shall I say the eleventh time, my dear Susan?" 
 
 "You had better make it an even dozen," she re- 
 plied, "as I have long since lost the count." 
 
 "But this is the real thing," Hubert persisted. 
 
 "What about the time in Paris?" Susan inquired. 
 "Certainly that was the real thing, and surely I 
 was final in my answer." 
 
 "No answer can be final until you accept me." 
 
 "Then I fear our story must remain unfinished." 
 
 "But why should it be unfinished," Rothwell ex- 
 claimed, getting up and standing above Miss Ander- 
 ton, who had sat down by her desk. "You know 
 how well we get on together; you know exactly 
 my feelings toward you. Why won't you marry 
 me?" 
 
 "Simply," Susan said, "because I don't wish to 
 marry. Besides, I am far too old for you; and as 
 an incident of perhaps first importance, I am not in 
 love with you." 
 
 "That doesn't count at all," Hubert interrupted.
 
 150 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "As I told you before, it is no reason with me." 
 
 "Now really, my dear boy," Susan went on, tak- 
 ing Hubert's hand, "I can't go through scenes like 
 this with you once a year or every six months. It 
 is too harrowing. You know I have nerves, al- 
 though people won't attribute them to me. I want 
 to see you married, and I want to see you happy; 
 but I don't wish to see you married to myself. 
 Why won't you look about a bit? Why can't you 
 realize that I am out of the question; that I am 
 no longer in the running?" 
 
 "That is just what I won't admit. You will 
 always be in the running for me." 
 
 "Quite all right; so far it suits me exactly," she 
 continued. "I always wish to be your friend, and 
 I should miss you awfully if for any reason I could 
 not see you now and then." 
 
 Hubert stood a moment, looking out of the win- 
 dow, not knowing whether he was utterly miserable 
 on account of what Susan had said, or rather pleased 
 that the situation was at last clear. He felt that 
 perhaps now he had shot his last arrow; and there 
 is always a certain feeling of relief when that has 
 been done. 
 
 Rothwell thought that he never had fooled himself 
 as to his attitude toward Susan. He knew that he 
 loved her, liked her better than any woman he had 
 ever known; yet the fact of their difference in age 
 put whatever there was of physical attraction in 
 abeyance to the higher plane of true friendship. 
 Susan realized much more clearly than he did that
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 151 
 
 this was the ground on which he approached her. 
 That they should always remain on this firm footing 
 of comradeship was what she wished. However, 
 if Hubert were to insist upon marriage and propose 
 to her annually, she must definitely break with him. 
 This would not be easy unless some one could be 
 found to claim his attention and in some way take 
 her place. 
 
 "Hubert," she said at last, "it would be absurd 
 for us to marry. We both have lots of money and 
 a very strong notion of our /personal freedom. 
 Why don't you find a girl of your own age who 
 would be really helped by becoming your wife?" 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" Rothwell exclaimed. "Do 
 you imagine that I am considering marriage from 
 the mercenary end and its relation to other people? 
 I am thinking of myself and what I want in the 
 matter." 
 
 "As men usually do," Susan interrupted. Then 
 she went on, "I was thinking of some person like 
 Florence Wainwright. You need not be passion- 
 ately in love with her," she hastened to add, as she 
 saw a movement on the part of her friend to expos- 
 tulate. "You are not even that with me. But you 
 could make her very happy. It is ridiculous to say 
 that you wouldn't be happy yourself wedded to such 
 a fine woman. Fancy what an annoying person I 
 should be with all my flitting about and old-maid 
 habits. You never could endure it for long. But 
 Florence is the born wife; she is in her element in 
 the married state, You should have known her
 
 152 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 years ago in Paris with Jack. She made his home 
 perfectly delightful, and she would do it again for 
 the man she was fond of. You know, sometimes 
 it is better to be loved than to love. Of course a 
 man never realizes that until it is too late. Now 
 promise that you will no longer consider me in a 
 romantic light. Take off your rose-colored spec- 
 tacles; I don't look well through them." 
 
 "And you are sending me back to England with 
 this answer?" Hubert asked. 
 
 "Certainly I am not sending you back to Eng- 
 land," she said hastily. "I wish you to stay right 
 here. You can be a great help to Florence in her 
 ideas for Greenvale; and I know it is the sort of 
 thing which will interest you." 
 
 "I am not going to have any illusions about her." 
 
 "Let her have the illusions; you needn't trouble 
 yourself on that score." 
 
 "For whatever reason I stay in America, it will 
 really be because I like being near you." 
 
 "There you go again," Susan ejaculated. "What 
 did I tell you?" 
 
 "That you will be my friend," Hubert said. 
 "Rather cold comfort in my opinion; but isn't that 
 all I am able to ask?" 
 
 "By the way," Susan resumed; "you can prove 
 your friendship by doing something for me now. 
 Delane, you know, is rather keen on Florence." 
 
 "How amusing," Rothwell laughed. 
 
 "Scarcely that. He is very interested in her and 
 likely to become something of an annoyance, if I
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 153 
 
 read him right. He came here to-night to talk with 
 me about her." 
 
 "And not to make love to you ? I should say that 
 he would get on much better with you than with 
 your friend." After a moment he asked, "Does 
 she know Delane's attitude?" 
 
 "She must realize that he is decidedly interested 
 in her; but from the first she has never liked him." 
 
 "I can understand that," Hubert remarked. "But 
 in that case I should think the situation would take 
 care of itself." 
 
 "Of course you would," Susan continued, "be- 
 cause you are a man, and then you English are so 
 adorably calm." 
 
 "Leaving all the English business out of the ques- 
 tion, will you kindly tell me what I am to do?" 
 
 "Merely devote yourself to Florence as much as 
 you feel that it becomes you to do." 
 
 "And keep a clear conscience," he said, laughing. 
 
 "Yes; above all, keep a clear conscience," she 
 answered, a little quizzically. 
 
 "But that is just what I am doing. I have been 
 about a lot with Mrs. Wainwright this winter." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course," Susan replied. "But put 
 more 'punch' into it, as the Americans say." 
 
 "Won't Mrs. Wainwright misunderstand?" Roth- 
 well asked. "Won't she think that I am paying her 
 definite attention?" 
 
 "What if she does?" 
 
 "What if she does! I don't wish to mislead the 
 poor lady."
 
 154 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "You certainly have had no scruples about mis- 
 leading me," Susan said. "How fortunate that I 
 was not younger. I can see how I would have been 
 swept off my feet by your persistence. Now you 
 are afraid of carrying Florence by storm. Oh, the 
 conceit of men." 
 
 "Don't laugh at me," Rothwell expostulated. "I 
 only want to make sure where I stand." 
 
 "And like all your class, you don't wish to leap 
 before you look." 
 
 "But just what is it you ask me to do?" he went 
 on. 
 
 "To be quite frank," Susan said, "I would like to 
 feel there is some one taking a definite interest in 
 Florence to protect her from Delane's attentions." 
 
 "A sort of bodyguard in the person of an eligi- 
 ble young man, eh?" 
 
 "Exactly that; and no one could be better than 
 you, because Florence likes you." 
 
 "I am aware of that," Hubert said, "and that is 
 just where the danger lies. A spark in such cases is 
 as good as a fire." 
 
 "But you may be very sure," Susan continued, 
 "that you need have no fear of compromising your- 
 self. The Kendalls are not that sort." 
 
 "I was only thinking of Mrs. Wainwright's feel- 
 ings in the matter." 
 
 "If you think only of that, then do what I say. 
 Make yourself her friend and pal, as it were, seeing 
 to it that she has no time for Delane." 
 
 "I think you are seeing chimseras as far as Delane
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 155 
 
 is concerned," Hubert replied; "and certainly Flor- 
 ence is able to look out for herself in that quarter." 
 
 "Don't be too sure of anything; Delane is a very 
 persistent person." 
 
 "I can see how he will dislike me most awfully." 
 
 "He probably does already," was Miss Anderton's 
 answer to this. 
 
 "Very well," Rothwell at last said, as he started 
 to go; "I will do what I can, and although I like Mrs. 
 Wainwright very much better than any one I 
 have met over here yet I feel no great enthusiasm 
 in going into this thing in quite the manner you 
 suggest." 
 
 "To hell with enthusiasm!" Susan exclaimed. 
 "It is Florence's happiness I am thinking about."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 In spite of Susan's well-laid plans in respect to 
 Florence and Hubert, Delane stole a march on her 
 by going straight from her house to the Kendalls'. 
 Although he asked for both Max and Mrs. Wain- 
 wright, it was really the latter whom he wished to 
 see. Florence, who desired to talk with him about 
 Tommy and Gracie, was glad of this opportunity 
 of getting his views on the subject 
 
 He apologized for calling so late; and then the 
 conversation wandered to matters relative to Green- 
 vale and how soon it would actually be "running," 
 as Delane chose to phrase it. This led to what was 
 uppermost in Florence's mind, that is, how soon 
 she would be able to try her experiment of sending 
 Gracie and Tommy and perhaps later other girls 
 to Greenvale to live. Several times she had at- 
 tempted to talk with Max about it, but with not 
 much success. To him it was all preposterous, not 
 only savoring of far-fetched Socialistic ideas but 
 questionable as to the point of placing such girls in 
 the new community. 
 
 "It sounds like a Bolshevist 'House of Rest,' ' 
 Max said one day, "and it certainly can be of no 
 advantage to a respectable young suburb to have a 
 bunch of wild girls dropped down upon it."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 157 
 
 "Greenvak has no social reputation to live up to," 
 Florence had said in reply. "I don't intend to form 
 a colony of undesirables. I merely wish to send 
 Tommy into the country to recuperate and to see 
 what a new environment will do for both her and 
 Grade." 
 
 The practical side of an argument such as this 
 had little effect upon Max. He could not under- 
 stand why these girls should enter into Florence's 
 concern any more than he could comprehend his 
 sister's depression after a hard day's work in the 
 slums. People like Gracie and Tommy were beyond 
 his horizon ; and the very idea of their having any 
 connection with Greenvale was not only absurd but 
 distinctly annoying to him. Perhaps it was this 
 annoyance which had shown in his voice when he 
 wound up the conversation with his sister by remark- 
 ing that the subject did not interest him in the least, 
 and that he would be very glad if Florence would 
 clear her mind of such preposterous notions. This 
 had told her quite plainly that nothing further could 
 be done in that quarter. She thought, however, 
 that Delane might be approachable. 
 
 While she would have hesitated to ask any favors 
 of him, yet this matter of the girls was of such 
 intense interest to her in relation with what she 
 hoped to do that she felt she would be placing her- 
 self under no obligation in speaking to him about it. 
 It was easy enough this evening to introduce the sub- 
 ject, as naturally Delane wanted to know how 
 Tommy was getting on and how long she would
 
 158 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 have to stay in the hospital. Then Florence men- 
 tioned taking her out to Greenvale when that place 
 should begin to be settled. The social aspect of the 
 thing did not enter into the question for Delane. 
 He considered merely how it could be done ; whether 
 the girls would be boarded out, and who would look 
 after them and see that they behaved themselves. 
 
 "I will see that they behave themselves," Flor- 
 ence said with enthusiasm. "All I need to know is 
 whether I shall be able to get a place for them and 
 how soon?" 
 
 "Of course," Delane replied, after a moment's re- 
 flection; "a number of houses are being built now. 
 Then there is an apartment house on the edge of 
 our land which was begun early in the spring, and 
 I think must be nearly ready for occupancy." 
 
 "Why couldn't I rent a flat there and get the girls 
 out as soon as Tommy is able to be moved from the 
 hospital? It is perfectly clear that Max will not 
 approve of this at all. I rely upon you to make 
 him see it in the right light." 
 
 "You don't need any pull with your brother," De- 
 lane laughed, "to fix the girls up at Greenvale. Our 
 houses are open to all first come, first served." 
 After a pause he added, "I think it is mighty fine of 
 you to undertake this. I don't know that I ever 
 met a more noble-hearted person than you are, and 
 I am going to do all I can to help." 
 
 Florence felt that she was on thin ice again, and 
 Delane was going to consider her rather too much 
 in the front of the Greenvale scheme. Here would
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 159 
 
 lie her difficulty in whatever she would be able to 
 accomplish with his aid. 
 
 "I merely want you to talk to Max," she said, 
 "and tell him that I am determined to carry this 
 thing through. He need not worry about the ex- 
 pense involved, so far as I am concerned, for Susan 
 Anderton has been wonderful and has offered to 
 pay the rent of a little flat." 
 
 "Susan is great, isn't she?" he ejaculated. 
 
 "Yes ; I am glad you appreciate her." 
 
 "I certainly do. I have just been over to see 
 her, but left a little sooner than I intended because 
 her young man came in." 
 
 How amused, Florence thought, Susan would be 
 at this mention of Rothwell as her young man. 
 
 Suddenly Delane said, "I suppose you see a lot 
 of Mr. Rothwell." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Florence answered. "My brother 
 and I enjoy him very much." 
 
 "I wonder when he is going back to England." 
 
 Florence did not care to discuss Rothwell with 
 Delane and made no reply to this beyond a casual 
 "I don't know." There followed a pause, during 
 which Delane sat looking at Florence in the rather 
 intense manner -which always had annoyed her. 
 She turned the conversation to other things, keep- 
 ing her visitor remote from personalities until he 
 took his departure somewhat late in the evening. 
 
 The result, however, of the chat this night was 
 that in less than a month the apartment house of 
 which Delane had spoken was completed, and Flor-
 
 160 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ence and Susan were negotiating for one of the 
 flats in it. Then Max was as nearly angry with 
 his sister as he ever had been ; he told her that she 
 was attempting something wild and reckless, even 
 going so far as to say that the experiment with the 
 girls might land her in the police court, to which 
 Mrs. Wainwright retorted that so long as it landed 
 her and not them, she would have no reason to com- 
 plain. But Max had little control over the situation. 
 Susan took out the lease in her own name, and Flor- 
 ence went ahead with the preparation of the place. 
 Rothwell entered into Florence's scheme with 
 great interest and came frequently to see her 
 and talk with her about it. They went together to 
 Greenvale and helped to install a certain Mrs. Potter 
 in the flat. Mrs. Potter was the widow of an aged 
 gardener who had worked years before for the Ken- 
 dalls, when they had a country place outside Boston. 
 She now went out sewing, and Florence often em- 
 ployed her and for several years had assumed a gen- 
 eral oversight of her. She considered her an ex- 
 cellent person for the present situation, for in 
 spite of being of the strictly New England type, she 
 was not inhumanly rigid in her ideas. Florence told 
 her quite frankly who the girls were and what 
 she hoped to do for them. Mrs. Potter remarked 
 that she would let the poor dears sew for her 
 on the work she "took out" to do at home; that 
 certainly would amuse them and, according to her 
 theory, uplift them at the same time. She realized 
 that they were to be allowed a certain amount of
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 161 
 
 freedom and must never for a moment suspect that 
 Mrs. Wainwright was trying to "make them over." 
 "They musn't know that we are moralizing them," 
 she said. It was to be merely a matter of country 
 air and quiet for the convalescence of Tommy, 
 Grade being included on account of her friend. 
 
 "Yes," she went on, "it will be just like altering 
 an old gown. The lace is shabby, like these girls' 
 lives; but we rip it off, put on something fresh and 
 bright, just as I shall instill right ideas into their 
 minds, and all is as good as new." 
 
 Whether the transformation would be as rapid as 
 Mrs. Potter imagined was somewhat doubtful to 
 Rothwell, who was much amused by the good lady. 
 
 "If she does too much ripping," he said to Flor- 
 ence, "there will be nothing left of her charges. 
 And do caution her not to read the Proverbs out 
 loud, or the story of Mary Magdalen." 
 
 Both he and Susan thought Florence had found 
 an excellent person in Mrs. Potter. Susan had been 
 out to the apartment several times to arrange cer- 
 tain matters of furnishings which she had most 
 generously undertaken. During all this time Max 
 preserved a stubborn silence, occasionally asking his 
 sister what she expected would happen when the 
 girls began to weary of Greenvale. 
 
 "Just at present," Florence had answered, "there 
 is no one in Greenvale for them to go wrong with, 
 even if they are bored. As for coming into town 
 in the evening, that is the one thing Tommy is not 
 able to do; and Gracie has agreed to watch out
 
 162 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 after her friend and stay with her. She has already 
 told me that she is so thankful Tommy is alive and 
 so grateful to me for sending her into the country 
 that she will do anything I say." 
 
 "All very well," Max would say to explanations 
 of this sort; "but you fail to realize the difficulties of 
 the situation." 
 
 "There isn't going to be any situation," Flor- 
 ence replied, "not if I know it." 
 
 "That is just the trouble," her brother laughed, 
 "of course you won't know it." 
 
 The day the girls were to go into their new 
 quarters Florence took Gracie out on a shopping 
 expedition to buy a few necessaries in the way of 
 clothing, as the small trunk at her lodgings had 
 disclosed a sad deficiency in this line. About noon- 
 time they joined Tommy at the hospital, and found 
 her dressed and ready for the trip to Greenvale, 
 but looking very frail after so many weeks in bed. 
 Gracie, through Mrs. Wainwright's kindness, had 
 bought her friend a small silver-topped tube of 
 smelling salts, this apparently being to her mind the 
 symbol of their going to live like ladies out of 
 town. 
 
 Delane picked them all up in his car, Florence 
 delaying the departure a bit until she had received a 
 telephone message from Rothwell saying that he 
 would not appear on the scene. She could quite 
 get his point that two men arriving at the flat 
 with the girls might start things in rather a high 
 key, although he had half promised to be pres-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 163 
 
 ent on "moving day," as he styled this occasion. 
 So they went on without him and arrived at Mrs. 
 Potter's to find that good woman hovering about 
 the kitchen, preparing luncheon. The girls were 
 so dazed by the bright aspect of the apartment, the 
 new furniture, the pretty curtains, and above all 
 by the bowl of flowers in the middle of the dining- 
 room table, that for a moment they were speech- 
 less. 
 
 "And we are really to live here?" Tommy at last 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Of course," Florence replied; "you are to board 
 with Mrs. Potter, and this is to be your home until 
 you get good and strong and forget that you ever 
 had a broken leg." 
 
 "And to think this nice feller's car did the trick," 
 Gracie said, smiling at Delane. 
 
 "Didn't I always say it was one of them blessings 
 in disguise?" Tommy asked, also beaming upon the 
 gentleman of the party. "Oh, look at the Victrola; 
 ain't it wonderful! I had one once on the install- 
 ment plan but had to send it back because I didn't 
 pay up prompt enough." 
 
 Susan Anderton, in furnishing the apartment, had 
 seen to it that nothing was lacking to make it at- 
 tractive. From the gay-colored sofa pillows and 
 the Victrola in the living room to the pretty china 
 and glassware of the dining room, all was quite 
 cosey and homielike. When the girls saw theiir 
 bedrooms one done in pink and the other in blue 
 their delight was beyond expression. Gracie
 
 164 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 chose the pink room, as that had always been her 
 color she said; while Tommy unpacked her suit- 
 case in the blue room. "More restful for an inva- 
 lid," was Mrs. Potter's comment. It had been her 
 idea to put the girls in separate rooms, occupying a 
 couch in the living room herself. Florence was not 
 quite sure whether this was because she wished to 
 stand guard at night before the "outer door," but 
 Mrs. Potter had explained that it would be better 
 for the girls to sleep apart so that they would not 
 talk through half the night about old ways and 
 days, which showed that she was a very practical- 
 minded person and perhaps had more keenness in 
 the matter of details than Mrs. Wainwright herself. 
 
 The luncheon was brought in from the kitch- 
 enette by Mrs. Potter, assisted by Delane, who had 
 put on an apron for the general amusement. It had 
 not been exactly Florence's idea that men should 
 be incorporated into this domestic scene at the very 
 outset; but now that Delane was here and had been 
 so kind throughout in making this experiment pos- 
 sible for her, there seemed nothing to do but make 
 the best of it. He certainly added to the gayety of 
 the situation, getting on with the girls perhaps better 
 than either Mrs. Potter or Florence would ever be 
 able to. 
 
 "Now pitch in," he said, as he removed his apron 
 and pretended that he was going to use it as a nap- 
 kin. "There's a real homelike atmosphere to this 
 place, so you must just eat a lot and get fat and feel 
 that you belong right here and can do as you please."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 165 
 
 "Yes," Florence hastened to interrupt, "I know 
 the girls are going to settle down here very comfort- 
 ably with Mrs. Potter." 
 
 "I think that rosebud paper on my room is 
 swell," Gracie said. "It beats the lilacs at Umber's 
 all to pieces." 
 
 "Have you got any 'jazz' for the Victor?" Tom- 
 my asked. 
 
 "I am not sure whether we have that tune," Mrs. 
 Potter remarked. "Miss Anderton did not bring 
 out many records; but when I went into town yes- 
 terday I bought the 'Maiden's Prayer.' ' 
 
 "What's that?" Gracie asked. "One of them 
 old-fashioned dances?" 
 
 "It don't sound much like a foxtrot, I'll say," 
 Delane laughed. 
 
 "Let's have a tune while we are eating," Gracie 
 said, as she started up from the table to set the 
 Victrola going. 
 
 Florence wondered if Mrs. Potter would have to 
 submit to music with all her meals. However, she 
 seemed to take to the girls remarkably, and sat 
 beaming. 
 
 "Say, ain't it great having Mr. Delane stay to 
 dinner with us," Gracie went on. Then, turning 
 toward him, she said, "You must come out often to 
 see us. Just feel that you can hang your hat up 
 here whenever you like." 
 
 Florence wished more than ever that Rothwell 
 were here in place of Delane; for while he would 
 not have lent so much festivity to the occasion, with
 
 166 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 him quite such a familiar attitude on the part of 
 the girls would not have been possible. It was all 
 very well to have a man about especially to make 
 these girls contented at the outset of things but a 
 rather particular sort of man was desirable. 
 
 "I am a pretty busy person," Delane was quick to 
 say, when he noticed Florence frowning at him; 
 "and I am afraid I can't be running out here as 
 often as I would like to." 
 
 "But all this place belongs to you, doesn't it?" 
 Tommy inquired. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," Delane answered. "But I mean I 
 won't be able to stop for social visits when I am out 
 here on business." 
 
 "Tommy must be rather quiet for a time," Flor- 
 ence interposed, "and it is just as well that she 
 should not see many people at present." 
 
 "With this dinner inside of me, I feel fine," that 
 lady exclaimed, taking another helping of oroiled 
 ham and eggs. 
 
 "But you must remember what I said the other 
 day," Florence went on, "that to get the full bene- 
 fit of your stay in Greenvale you must not over- 
 exert yourself." 
 
 "And she ought to have a nap every afternoon," 
 Mrs. Potter added. 
 
 "That will seem natural," Tommy laughed, "as 
 I always sleep most of the daytime." 
 
 Graoie laughed loudly at this; quickly looked at 
 Mrs. Potter and as quickly became absorbed in her 
 food again. From the look of bewilderment on
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 167 
 
 Mrs. Potter's face, Gracie gathered that perhaps 
 ladies did not sleep in the daytime. 
 
 Florence .could see from all this what a difficult 
 task it was going to be to get the minds of these 
 girls into a new line of thought. Mrs. Potter, with 
 her "Maidjen's Prayjer" ; and afternoon naps for 
 Tommy and an occasional bit of sewing for Gracie, 
 might do much in a certain way ; but how to change 
 their general trend of thought, how to bring a new 
 interest into their lives? Besides, whatever result 
 might be attained would be offset by Delane, if he 
 felt that Suite Ten of the Gardenside Apartments 
 was a place where he could hang up his hat when- 
 ever he wished. Florence thought that he was in- 
 telligent enough to see quite as clearly as she did 
 that too much of him might not be altogether good 
 for the girls who had been suddenly removed from 
 a rather gay and breezy life. Both she and Susan 
 had decided that a man about the premises would 
 be occasionally necessary. They could hardly ex- 
 pect the girls to feel much thrill at the prospect of a 
 convent life with Mrs. Potter as the Mother Super- 
 ior. It was largely for this reason that Hubert 
 Rothwell had been incorporated into the scheme and 
 had been led to take so much interest in it. As 
 things turned out, however, it appeared to be Delane 
 about whom the thoughts of the young ladies would 
 center. Florence would have to wait to see just 
 what their state of mind was going to be after a few 
 days in the new home. It was rather too early to 
 fear anything or to jump at possible conclusions.
 
 1 68 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 After lunch the Victrola was again started; and 
 Grade said she would like to have Mr. Delane teach 
 her the new steps. Fortunately for Florence's peace 
 of mind, he had to get back to work and could not 
 stay any longer. He shook hands all around and 
 hurried away, promising to come out again and to 
 bring some more records for the talking machine. 
 Tommy was persuaded to lie down for her after- 
 noon nap; and Gracie helped to do up the dinner 
 things. 
 
 Florence could not help noticing how awkward 
 she was about it. It was not that she did not know 
 how to wash and wipe dishes, but she appeared too 
 casual about it all. She laughed and talked, and her 
 mind seemed to be on everything except what she 
 was doing. She dropped and broke a teacup, which 
 incident did not embarrass or annoy her. She took 
 it rather as a joke, although she did say "Damn" 
 when the cup broke. She asked Mrs. Wainwright 
 if she had ever heard the old saying that it was 
 a good sign for a bride to break something when 
 she first moved into her new home. Florence ad- 
 mitted complete ignorance as to the truth of this; 
 and Gracie went on to explain. 
 
 "Oh, yes," she said, "one of the first fellers I 
 ever knew, Tom O'leary, got hitched up with a 
 girl by the name of Maggie Collins. He wasn't 
 very soft on her, but I guess he had to marry her to 
 get her out of a scrape. Some men are that easy, 
 you know ; and when they get next a girl like Mag- 
 gie, who was always whining and so scared that
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 169 
 
 something would happen to her, why, they just 
 get hitched, that's all. Well, they went out to 
 Somerville to live; and when they moved into their 
 flat my, but it was a cute little place the first day 
 they was there Maggie dropped a glass bowl which 
 was one of her wedding presents. She was mighty 
 afraid Tom would come down hard on her for it; 
 but when Tom got home that night and she told 
 him about it, all he said was, 'Oh, sure, my dear, 
 didn't you know that was a good sign? There 
 couldn't be a better one for a newly wedded pair. 
 To smash something, especially if it's china ware, 
 means we are to have a long life and a gay one'." 
 
 "And did they?" Florence asked. 
 
 "Sure they did not," Gracie replied. "They 
 hadn't been married a year before Tom smashed 
 Maggie up by throwing a plate at her, and she go- 
 ing to have her second kid. And then she left him. 
 In spite of that, I've always believed in signs." 
 
 It was perhaps lucky that Mrs. Potter was not in 
 the kitchen during this edifying recital of Maggie's 
 troubles. When she came back and found the tea- 
 cup broken, she said nothing beyond remarking that 
 of course accidents would happen. 
 
 Then the doorbell rang. Gracie listened through 
 the speaking tube. 
 
 "It's a man," she said. "He wants to know if 
 Mrs. Wainwright is here." 
 
 "Good gracious," thought Florence, "another 
 man, and so soon after Delane." She knew it was 
 Hubert and decided he must not come up. She
 
 i;o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 called down the tube and said that she would be right 
 down, and asked him to wait. 
 
 "Let's have a look at him. Tell him to come up," 
 Grade urged, standing at Florence's side. "You're 
 lucky to have so many men friends," she went on. 
 "I'll bet he is good looking." 
 
 Florence had to say something and explained that 
 it was some one to see her on business her brother's 
 land agent that he was going to show her some new 
 flats in Greenvale. The important thing now seemed 
 to be to get away before Hubert should arrive at the 
 door. He was much too attractive and would be far 
 too nice to Gracie for Florence not to feel some un- 
 easiness in the situation. 
 
 Before she left, Florence took Gracie aside and 
 told her briefly how her life would be arranged while 
 she was at Greenvale. 
 
 "Mrs. Potter is a seamstress," she said, "and she 
 has work to do at home. I am sure you can be a 
 good deal of help to her. I just wish, as I told you 
 before, that you would not think of going into town 
 for a few weeks. Tommy really needs your care, 
 and Mrs. Potter hasn't the time to look out for her." 
 
 "Dbn't you worry, dearie, about me not taking 
 care of Tommy," Gracie answered. "Many a 
 scrape she's got me out of, and I'll stand by her now, 
 if I never see town again." 
 
 "That's fine," Florence exclaimed. "You stand 
 by Tommy, and I will stand by you; then we shall 
 all come out right in the end." 
 
 Her parting advice to Mrs. Potter was to let the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 171 
 
 girls play the Victrola as much as they liked and 
 not to read aloud to them. 
 
 Hubert, in the hallway below, was disappointed 
 that he had not been allowed a glimpse of the girls in 
 their retreat, as he called the flat. 
 
 "You would have been all right in place of 
 Delane, but the two of you both in the same 
 day was rather a large order," Florence laughed. 
 "Whatever made you come out?" 
 
 "To go back to town with you," Rothwell replied. 
 
 "And rescue me from the other gentleman, I 
 suppose. But he has left already, so you are too late 
 for that." 
 
 "But not too late to see you." 
 
 "Shall we walk?" Florence asked, as they came 
 out into the main road where the trolley ran. 
 
 It was agreed that they would walk part way back 
 to town. As they chatted on the way and stopped 
 on the side of a hill where the distant spires and 
 domes of the city showed through an opening, 
 Florence felt that this was a very pleasant ending 
 to a somewhat strenuous day. She had again that 
 same feeling of repose with Rothwell which she had 
 noticed so often before ; the feeling that comes from 
 the companionship of some one who is perfectly 
 congenial, with whom one may be talkative or silent 
 as the mood suggests. As a matter of fact, they 
 walked on for a long distance in silence ; and Flor- 
 ence could not but wonder what her friend was 
 thinking about. Not of me, I am sure, she thought. 
 
 Her thought was probably correct, for Rothwell
 
 172 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 suddenly said, "I suppose you have reckoned on 
 what a big item your food bill out here is going to 
 be, with everything so dear." 
 
 Florence laughed. "Yes," she said, "I have tried 
 to take all that into account; but with Susan's aid, 
 I think I can foot the bills until I see how my plan 
 is going to work out." 
 
 "You're a brick to do it. I am most awfully 
 interested," Hubert remarked. 
 
 Florence was at Susan's the next evening to tell 
 her about the happenings of the preceding day. 
 
 "The start seems to have been first rate," Miss 
 Anderton said. "But keep Delane off the scene. 
 Of course you couldn't shake him yesterday; but tell 
 him how you feel about the question of male com- 
 panionship for the girls." 
 
 "I don't want to offend him." 
 
 "Don't worry about that. Just let him know 
 that he is to disappear so far as your part in Green- 
 vale is concerned." 
 
 "You would not place the same injunction upon 
 Hubert?" Florence asked. 
 
 "Oh, no ; he doesn't need it," Susan was quick to 
 answer. 
 
 She was getting ready to leave town for the sum- 
 mer. It was late June and quite time for a lady 
 of Miss Anderton's nomadic habits to become a part 
 of the annual migration from the city. She had 
 taken a small house on the South Shore and said 
 that she expected Florence to come down often to 
 see her.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 173 
 
 "And Hubert, what will you do with him?" 
 Florence asked. 
 
 "Oh, he will stay here," Susan returned; "at any 
 rate, so long as you are in town." 
 
 That was all very pleasant for Florence ; especially 
 as it was somewhat indefinite whether she would get 
 away at all during the summer. Certain things 
 were coming up in connection with her settlement 
 house work which required her attention ; and then 
 she did not care for the present to be too far away 
 from Mrs. Potter's establishment. Max, too, was 
 likely to be very busy and disliked the idea of com- 
 muting. They would probably keep the Marl- 
 borough Street house open and get off for the week- 
 ends as frequently as possible. 
 
 "Have you seen the girls to-day?" Susan asked. 
 
 "Yes ; I was out there this morning. They are as 
 happy as can be. Tommy was working on a waist 
 for Mrs. Potter, and Gracie was spending hours 
 manicuring her nails and shampooing her hair. 
 Mrs. Potter likes them both, but says Tommy has 
 the best disposition." 
 
 Just then the telephone bell rang, and Susan 
 went into the next room to answer it. She came 
 back in a moment to say that Mrs. Potter was on the 
 line and that Florence would better talk with her. 
 Through a rather jumbled and wordy explanation 
 it appeared that Gracie had gone out about seven 
 o'clock to buy some candy for Tommy and had not 
 returned. It was then about ten, and poor Mrs. 
 Potter, by the tone of her voice, was evidently in a
 
 174 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 state of acute agitation. She had purposely not 
 called Florence, she said, for fear the news would 
 disturb her, apparently believing that Miss Ander- 
 ton would know exactly what to do in the situation. 
 
 "But what will you do?" that lady asked. 
 
 "Nothing at all, just now," Florence replied 
 quite calmly. "Ten o'clock is not such a dreadfully 
 late hour of the night." 
 
 "I should say any hour was late for those young 
 women in their present circumstances," Susan re- 
 joined. After a moment she added, "This may be 
 the blowing up of our Greenvale bubble." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort," Florence exclaimed vehe- 
 mently. "What if there is a slip or two at the 
 first? Do you think_that will scare me off from my 
 efforts? Would you have me throw up my hands 
 in shocked amazement and beat a hasty retreat?" 
 
 "But then, you know," Susan interrupted, "you 
 can scarcely stand by and look on while " 
 
 "Don't we all look on at things every day of our 
 lives?" Florence continued. "Isn't it one of the 
 stunts of life to see how well we can do it? Per- 
 haps the higher we go in the social scale, the more 
 we have to look on at and excuse; or, to be thor- 
 oughly modern, merely smile at and tolerate. No, 
 my dear Susan, in the case of these girls, I shall look 
 on at many things until I have made every effort to 
 save them." 
 
 "You are superb," was all Susan said.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 In the matter of Gracie's disappearance there was 
 nothing that Florence had to look on at or see 
 through, as Mrs. Potter later came forward with the 
 explanation that Gracie had merely gone out to the 
 corner druggist to eat an ice cream, and finding the 
 air of the warm summer night very much to her 
 fancy, had taken a stroll around several of the 
 newly built houses of Greenvale. Perhaps, as Mrs. 
 Potter said, the poor dear had got lost in the wilder- 
 ness of half-finished streets, the general openness 
 of the district being something of a wilderness to 
 ithe good woman's vision, which heretofore had 
 sfeldom ranged beyond the closely settled streets 
 of Charlestown, her former residence. The only 
 thing that interested Florence was that Gracie had 
 come back. At this early date she did not wish to 
 play the spy upon her slightest movements; and it 
 seemed quite likely that the girl was telling the 
 truth and had merely gone for a walk. However, 
 she felt it advisable to run out to Greenvale 
 the next morning to see the girls, and in an aside 
 told Mrs. Potter not to "poor dear" them too much; 
 but, putting all sentiment by, to look upon them as 
 two perfectly normal young persons. 
 
 Susan was off to the shore that day, and Flor-
 
 1 76 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ence got back to town in time to say good-by. 
 Miss Anderton announced that she was planning a 
 picnic for the following Saturday as a sort of wel- 
 come to the Greenvale clan in the little house she 
 had rented for the summer. This all seemed very 
 delightful to Florence, and she promised to bring 
 Max down on the early train Saturday. 
 
 "Delane and his sister are to spend Sunday with 
 me," Susan flung out as a parting word. 
 
 "You are incorrigible," Florence exclaimed. 
 "However, it is your house and your party. I hope 
 you enjoy them." 
 
 "I should not ask them, if I didn't expect to," 
 Susan retorted. 
 
 "But the odd part is," Florence went on, "that 
 you didn't like that sort of people in the old times." 
 
 "I have knocked about in Europe with far com- 
 moner people than the Delane brood, 1 ' Susan re- 
 plied; "but over there one was so often taken in 
 by them because they usually had titles hanging on 
 their names." 
 
 The Saturday appointed for the picnic was a 
 splendid day; and Florence and Max went down by 
 train, the Delanes having descended upon Susan in 
 their motor the night before. Of course it was a 
 great event for Nora, a week-end at a South Shore 
 house; and when Florence discovered her on the 
 porch, in a sky-blue dress and rose-covered hat, 
 she really looked as though she were doing her ut- 
 most to live up to the situation. Delane was lying 
 in a Gloucester hammock with a glass of iced tea
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 177 
 
 by his side. He came forward smiling to greet 
 Mrs. Wainwright and her brother, with rather the 
 appearance of feeling that as house guest he must 
 do some of the honors of host. Hubert was off 
 somewhere to fetch Constance Floyd and her friend 
 Mortimer Otis, the latter being a young gentleman 
 who was spending the week-end at the Floyd cottage 
 not far away. 
 
 "Isn't this a tip-top day for a lark," Susan ex- 
 claimed, showing Florence about the house, "And 
 isn't this a wee dove of a house?" 
 
 Delane was at their heels, putting in a word here 
 and there about the views from the various win- 
 dows; and when the dining room was reached, in- 
 sisting that Florence should have something to drink, 
 Susan's somewhat diminished supply of the banished 
 spirits having been considerably increased by what 
 Delane brought down with him. 
 
 "You know Miss Anderton makes just the love- 
 liest drinks that ever were," Nora called in from 
 the verandah. 
 
 About one o'clock the picnic basket was ready; 
 and the little party proceeded to a group of fir trees 
 on the edge of the rocks. It was cool there, with 
 a delightful breeze blowing in from the sea; and far 
 away could be seen what was probably an ocean 
 steamer bound for Europe. 
 
 "Doesn't that make you want to go home ?" Susan 
 asked Rothwell. 
 
 "Not when I am in such pleasant company as 
 this," he answered; and then went on, laughing,
 
 178 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "you know this good lady really wants to get rid 
 of me. She has been trying all winter, and I am 
 sure when the summer came along she thought 
 nothing could keep me away from England in the 
 month of roses. But I just won't go, and she 
 might as well make up her mind to it now or never." 
 
 Florence looked up quickly at him as he said this 
 and wondered what was really keeping him so long 
 in America. Certainly Susan, having definitely re- 
 fused him, could not be the reason; but if it were 
 herself, he gave little enough indication of it. It 
 made her very happy to be here with him in the 
 open on this fine summer day, and what was to her 
 the rather distracting presence of Delane and his 
 sister could in no way dampen her good time. 
 
 The food was delicious ; cold chicken, sandwiches 
 of every known variety, and rarest of all luxuries, 
 a couple of bottles of champagne, which were 
 brought down from the house in ice by a boy Susan 
 was to employ about the place and whom she called 
 her "general man." Nora, perhaps because she had 
 been tipped off by Delane not to talk too much, was 
 unusually quiet, rrterely bursting forth occasion- 
 ally to admire the South Shore scenery, of which 
 she assumed an intimate knowledge, but which she 
 really knew very little beyond the long stretches of 
 Nantasket Beach. Delane made up for his sister's 
 silence by talking a great deal; and sitting on a 
 mossy rock just above and behind Florence, handed 
 things down to her from the basket in what he 
 considered his most cavalier-like manner. It was
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 179 
 
 really very amusing to her, as Hubert sat just op- 
 posite, and it did not much matter who passed her 
 the food. 
 
 "Do you know," Delane said, in the midst of dis- 
 secting a chicken wing, "that sometimes I get very 
 jealous, Susan, of your European friends." 
 
 "How is that?" she asked. 
 
 "Well, because they had you so many years, and 
 we poor mortals over here are just discovering you. 
 You're a grand sort." 
 
 This was rather prettily said, and of course Max 
 approved of it, as it showed his partner in the best 
 light. He looked over at Florence as much as to 
 say, "Now you see, this fellow is a gentleman, after 
 all." 
 
 But Florence had eyes only for Hubert and the 
 deep blue sea beyond. He seemed so much a part 
 of this scene in the bright sunny day. His black 
 hair blowing in the breeze, his soft shirt and flannels 
 so casually worn, were all delightful to her. The 
 sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and his arms, 
 slightly tanned, were strong and muscular like those 
 of a rower or tennis player. Florence watched his 
 hands and the finely shaped fingers as he opened a 
 sandwich and smiled quietly when he found it was 
 the kind he wanted. The wind caught his hair and 
 blew it about his forehead, his head being clearly 
 defined against the blue of the water. It was all 
 so fine and clear, so like the man, all strength and 
 simplicity. And he was cold, cold as the sea; that 
 was the whole trouble.
 
 i8o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 After they had all been eating steadily for some 
 time, although very little food had really been con- 
 sumed to judge by the still heaped-up basket it 
 seems always at picnics that one's guests eat so dis- 
 couragingly little of the vast amount of things pro- 
 vided the boy appeared again, this time bringing 
 a punch bowl of ice cream. 
 
 "Ice cream at a picnic!" Nora Delane cried. 
 "That certainly is going some." 
 
 Miss Floyd and her friend Otis, slightly dis- 
 gruntled by the presence of the Delanes, had betaken 
 themselves to a flat rock somewhat removed from 
 the rest of the party; and there, in duet fashion, 
 had carried on a conversation with much merriment 
 throughout the proceedings. However, at Nora's 
 ecstasies over the ice cream, Miss Floyd saw fit to 
 remark that ice cream had been quite the last word 
 at picnics for several seasons and related how her 
 mother had startled the South Shore colony by 
 serving a full-course dinner on the rocks. 
 
 "It must have been confoundedly hard to navigate 
 soup sitting on a wobbly rock," Delane spoke up, 
 at which every one laughed; and the Floyd-Otis 
 combination returned to its duet. 
 
 The sun was slanting through the fir trees and 
 a brisk breeze blowing in from the sea. People 
 stood up and moved about; the men lighted their 
 pipes. Florence and Hubert wandered down to a 
 flat stretch of sand at the bottom of the cliffs and 
 found themselves soon followed by Delane and his 
 sister. In a general conversation about swimming
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 181 
 
 and other out-of-door things, Rothwell mentioned 
 the fact that he preferred tennis to golf, and dis- 
 covered that Nora played tennis and was rather keen 
 about it. 
 
 "Let's go up and have a game," he exclaimed. 
 "The court at the house is in first-rate condition. 
 Do you play?" he said, turning to Mrs. Wainwright. 
 
 "I used to," Florence replied; "but, like dancing, 
 my tennis is very seedy." 
 
 Nora, feeling that she had captured the English- 
 man for the afternoon, was intent upon returning 
 to the house; and Rothwell, as he loved the game 
 and was really a crack player, hurried up over the 
 cliffs with Miss Delane, supposing that Florence 
 and Delane would follow. 
 
 "I will come up later and watch you," she called 
 out to the retreating figures. 
 
 Delane, stepping out to the edge of the water until 
 the waves lapped his shoes, looked along the coast. 
 Farther down was a small bay and leading to it a 
 kind of rocky path. There was a pebbly beach 
 in the curve of the bay shut in on both sides and 
 overhung by evergreens. 
 
 "Let's walk on a bit," he said. "There's an aw- 
 fully pretty place just beyond." 
 
 Florence had been thinking of many things as she 
 sat there with Delane slowly moving across her 
 horizon on the sands. If he were always to be in 
 the perspective of her life, she wondered if it would 
 not be just as well to let him come to whatever point 
 he had in view in connection with her. It had
 
 182 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 seemed absurd when Susan told her that he had a 
 "crush" on her. And yet in her experiences with 
 him during the past few weeks, at Greenvale and 
 now here at the shore, he had shown such a con- 
 tinued and apparent interest in her that Florence, far 
 from being annoyed, was beginning to be curious. 
 There was something a little pathetic in his dog- 
 like devotion to her; the way he looked at her and 
 listened to her every word. As her brother's friend, 
 surely she could speak plainly to him without fear 
 of wounding if his interest in her were really of 
 the sentimental sort, as Susan would have her be- 
 lieve. 
 
 "Yes, let's go along to that nice bay," she said 
 suddenly, jumping up. "I should like the walk." 
 
 This pleased Delane immensely, and they started 
 out across the uneven rocky path, Delane helping 
 Florence a number of times over pools of water. 
 If ever, deep in his soul, he had had some vision of 
 bliss, it was pictured now in the emotions he felt 
 in the midst of this scene. All that he had thought 
 about during the past months and the desire for her 
 he had felt could be held down no longer; and 
 when they finally reached the pebbly beach beneath 
 the overhanging trees, Delane's face was flushed and 
 his heart beating with the strongest emotion he had 
 ever known. Suddenly, the natural curiosity that 
 Florence had felt in the situation and all her won- 
 derment at Delane were gone. She knew at once 
 where she stood and what her relation to this man 
 was going to be. She did not have to be told that
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 183 
 
 she was loved, as she perceived and could actually 
 feel the burning warmth of his passion. 
 
 She wanted for a moment to run away, up over 
 the cliffs or back across the rocky path. But that 
 would be childish; for she knew she had purposely 
 led him on to find out on what ground they were 
 to face each other. That there would be from now 
 on a positive ground of approach between them 
 Florence could not doubt. And whether this were 
 to be smooth and flat like some pleasant meadow 
 where flowers grow and where everything is seen 
 clearly, or whether it would be a place of high rocks 
 and ridges, across which they could see each other 
 only with difficulty, was the question. Certainly, 
 in view of her brother's relation to Delane, Flor- 
 ence would have to use her best insight in the matter 
 to make the way as soft as possible for her protag- 
 onist. The whole business in which she found 
 herself seemed of a sudden very large and importu- 
 nate, as Delane stood before her, outlined in all his 
 rugged health, big against the sparkling sea. 
 
 It was impossible for Florence to measure in any 
 way this man's conception of her. It had been a 
 thing of such slow growth and yet so insistent in 
 his consciousness from the first time he had beheld 
 her, that probably Delane himself had been unaware 
 until this moment of the strength of his passion. 
 He had long known that he was deeply in love with 
 Mrs. Wainwright ; he had long hoped for an oppor- 
 tunity to speak to her. But his connection with her 
 had been really so slight, as far as the intimacies
 
 184 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 of life go so little approaching even to the plane 
 of a happy comradeship that he had felt like a 
 man lost to himself; like one who possesses infinite 
 treasure but has no way of enjoying his wealth. 
 All through those days soon after he first met Flor- 
 ence, when Max noted his moodiness and absent- 
 mindedness; and later when he came into closer 
 connection with her through the matter of Tommy's 
 accident and the Greenvale affair, he had expected 
 there might be some closer understanding, some sign 
 given, arising from their mutual interests. But 
 there had been nothing. Florence was always the 
 dim object of his desire, hovering night and day 
 like a dream figure on the edge of the realities of 
 life. So his love had grown stronger, and like 
 plants that push long roots into the earth, showing 
 only a suggestion of their vigor in the few green 
 leaves above the soil, Delane's love had burrowed 
 silently and was encircling his heart with innumer- 
 able tendrils; while on the surface of his life there 
 was no indication of the thing which had gone down 
 deep, deep into his soul. 
 
 Florence leaned against the mossy bank to rest 
 a moment after the walk along the rocks. Delane, 
 looking at her silently, took a few steps away and 
 turned his back on her. Suddenly he lifted his 
 hands high above his head, and with something that 
 sounded like a low moan, turned quickly and came 
 over to where Florence was. 
 
 "Mrs. Wainwright," he began, "you have never 
 really known me, have you? You have never tried
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 185 
 
 to find out what sort of a person I am. It has 
 always seemed as though you did not want to know. 
 Perhaps you haven't liked me; but you have been 
 awfully nice to me, but may be that was only be- 
 cause you tried to be." 
 
 Florence winced a little at the truth of this. 
 Delane did not notice it and was speaking again, 
 more rapidly than before. 
 
 "But I don't care what you have thought of me, 
 how much you have not liked me. I want you to 
 know you have got to know that I love you." 
 
 Florence moved away from out of the shadow 
 of the cliff, and, smiling slightly, stood very erect 
 before Delane and looked straight into his eyes. 
 
 "I have loved you since the first time I met you at 
 your brother's, that night when you were so nice to 
 me. Very few people in the world have been kind 
 to me ; and when you were so good and made things 
 so smooth for me, scared and shy as I was like a 
 young heifer, well, I fell for you then and there. 
 And since that time the thought of you has been in 
 everything I have done ; and your face has been be- 
 fore me and the longing for you in my blood, until, 
 God above us! you must know it all and let me 
 speak out the love that's in me." 
 
 Florence was standing now in the open, with her 
 eyes looking out to the sea, and the sunlight that 
 came through the trees at the top of the cliff just 
 touching her hair and the back of her neck. De- 
 lane came nearer to her. 
 
 "Don't think that I love you with any conven-
 
 1 86 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 tional, stupid kind of love where a man asks a 
 woman to be his wife in the intermission of a 
 dance, and then after they are married dresses her 
 up like a pretty doll and shows the world how much 
 money he can spend on her; but if she displeases 
 him in any way, it's all over, and he is off to the 
 next beauty who is willing to be his pet. I love 
 you in the good, old-fashioned way, the only way 
 that real love can be spelled; and if they can find 
 a better kind with their divorces and childless mar- 
 riages, let them find it. It is not for such as me. 
 Here we are by the sea, with the wind off the waves 
 in our ears, and in my heart your beauty. That is 
 the love I have for you, dear Florence, a big out- 
 of-door love that the sound of all the oceans in the 
 world could not drown." 
 
 Taking Florence's hand, he said very low and 
 huskily, "Look at me, look at me. Give me some 
 word that I have made you feel what I do. Let me 
 go on loving you; let me make you happy; be mine." 
 
 If Florence had not stepped away quickly at this 
 moment, Delane would have seized her, as his arms 
 were almost about her. She was now very near the 
 edge of the water; her cheeks were burning, and her 
 eyes aflame. She was not angry, but frightened. 
 
 "Please stop," was all that she could say to De- 
 lane, as he stood somewhat taken by surprise at her 
 evident attempt to get away from him. There was 
 a very terrible expression on his face, almost of 
 anguish, as though he feared the worst to be true, 
 and that Florence felt a physical repugnance to him.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 187 
 
 "You will hear me you must hear me!" he 
 gasped out. 
 
 "Rease," Florence began again, finding it diffi- 
 cult to speak, "I don't wish to hear any more. 
 That you love me as you say you do, I cannot help. 
 It is one of those things over which neither you nor 
 I have any power. I am old enough to understand 
 all you say. On my part, I can only answer that I 
 am very sorry." 
 
 "You mean you mean there is no hope ?" De- 
 lane interrupted, still keeping his distance from her. 
 
 "I mean that while you have bowled me over by 
 what you have just told me, I feel glad that you 
 have come out openly with it all. To me how 
 shall I express it to me " 
 
 But whatever she was going to say was broken 
 into and stopped by cries from the cliff above of 
 "Florence, Florence Jim, where are you? Tea is 
 being served on the verandah, and you must come 
 back at once." 
 
 "Damn!" Jim ejaculated and sank down on the 
 nearest rock, burying his face in his hands. 
 
 Susan, who had lingered in the picnic group 
 with Miss Floyd, Max, and Otis, had not seen 
 Nora and Rothwell when they pursued their way 
 to the house by a different path from the one they 
 had taken down to the beach. Hence, when some- 
 what later Susan and her little group started home, 
 and she spied Hubert and Miss Delane hard at ten- 
 nis and was told by them that they had left the 
 others at the foot of the cliff the others being
 
 i88 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 what was for Miss Anderton the terrifying combi- 
 nation of Florence and Jim she hurried back to 
 the edge of the rocks and, glancing down distract- 
 edly here and there to the places where she thought 
 they might be, had at last caught sight of Florence. 
 
 The cry was really a welcome one, at least to 
 Florence; although later she wished she had had 
 time to indicate more definitely to Delane what his 
 attitude must be toward her and in what light she 
 would have to look upon him hereafter. On the 
 way up to the house she did have a chance to say 
 that she should not mention to her brother a word of 
 what had happened. She felt he would be angry 
 if he knew, and that she would do almost anything 
 rather than embarrass the good relations existing 
 between Max and Delane. 
 
 "You may trust me," she added, "to act as if 
 nothing had occurred between us." 
 
 "How about Susan?" Delane asked. 
 
 "I don't see that Susan comes into the matter," 
 Florence replied. 
 
 But Susan did come into the matter, just as she 
 was bound to come into all matters, whether near or 
 remote to her. After Max and Florence had left 
 that evening for town and Miss Nora Delane had 
 retired to her chamber to revel in the latest popular 
 novel, propped up in bed under the rays of a charm- 
 ing pink drop-lamp, Delane alone with Susan on 
 the moonlit porch unburdened himself as perhaps 
 he had never done before. It was as though it did 
 not count what he said or how far he disclosed the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 189 
 
 state of his heart, now that he had shown his cards 
 to Florence. 
 
 "I probably should not have gone so far," he 
 said, after telling Susan in some detail of the scene 
 on the beach. 
 
 "But I don't see that you did go far," Susan 
 returned. "You were certainly the gentleman 
 throughout." 
 
 "Yes," Delane went on gloomily; ."but it wasn't 
 because I wished to be. There are times when a 
 person would like to be anything but a gentleman." 
 
 Susan made a little movement of deprecation 
 which did not escape him. 
 
 "I mean there are times when a fellow would 
 like to say his whole mind, or rather, act it, if that 
 expresses better the idea; and when it drives you 
 mad to feel that you are hedged about with all the 
 conventionalities of life." 
 
 "You are an admirable soul, Delane," Susan in- 
 terrupted. "I only wish that the girl you would 
 like to walk off with were not Florence. She's not 
 the sort to be kidnapped." 
 
 "It was beautiful down there by the water," Jim 
 continued, not heeding this. "And the girl I love 
 standing there with the light blowing in her hair ; the 
 sound of the waves over us and love singing in my 
 heart. I had to speak; I had to tell Florence what 
 she has come to mean to me. And she was cold 
 and afraid, and moved away from me." After a 
 pause he added slowly, "Then she told me to stop; 
 and made a pretty, civil little speech and said that
 
 190 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 no one should know of what had passed between us. 
 It was as though the whole transaction had been 
 something criminal, and I was trying to steal her 
 away across the deep blue sea in a boat, like the old- 
 time stories." 
 
 "Florence, I am sure, was surprised rather than 
 made afraid by what you said," Susan put in. 
 
 "Both," Delane exclaimed. "She was both, and 
 a bit angry too. But what had I said to make her 
 afraid of me? What has a girl to fear anyway 
 from a man who loves her as I do? And why 
 shouldn't she tell her brother about it all, or think 
 that he will be angry if he knows? Max is a man 
 of flesh and blood, and my pal. Wouldn't he be 
 pleased to see a match between me and his sister? 
 You bet he would. I know Max better than his 
 sister does." 
 
 Susan wondered how she could convey to Delane 
 the knowledge that Max Kendall most certainly 
 would not care to see a match between Florence and 
 his partner in business. She did not wish to hurt 
 him; and she had tried so hard the night he was at 
 her house to make him see the difference between 
 Florence's world and his own. Then she had placed 
 the emphasis upon her friend's absorption in her 
 work; perhaps now it would be necessary to speak 
 the plain truth. And yet her admiration for De- 
 lane and the appeal of his strong, frank passion 
 held her tongue-tied in any effort she might make 
 to awaken him to the situation.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 191 
 
 At last she said, "Why don't you speak to Max 
 about this and tell him the whole story?" 
 
 "You mean press my suit for the sister through 
 the brother?" 
 
 "Not exactly that; but find out what his attitude 
 is before you say anything more to Florence. How- 
 ever," Susan added, "if Florence does not care for 
 you, as I suspect is the case, I don't see that any- 
 thing further need be said." 
 
 "Give up now, after one small attempt?" Delane 
 ejaculated. "I guess you don't know me," he went 
 on excitedly. "That isn't the way I behaved with 
 Greenvale, is it ? Max was faint-hearted and would 
 have thrown up the whole proposition if I hadn't 
 prodded him on. The contractors told us the land 
 was impossible of development; there was no trol- 
 ley near the place. Well, did I throw up my hands 
 at all that? Didn't I convince Kendall and win 
 over the contractors and push the matter of the 
 railway franchise until we got the cars? I didn't 
 back down on that proposition, and I guess I am 
 not going to back down on this one either. Not 
 just yet," he said, as he got up and strode over to 
 the edge of the verandah and looked out across the 
 moonlit sea. 
 
 There was a long silence. It seemed to Susan 
 that the deep boom of the ocean was like the throb- 
 bing of fate hanging over Florence's life and that of 
 Delane. What could she do against such forces? 
 
 "My, but the sea is beautiful to-night!'' Delane
 
 192 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 finally said, turning again to his friend. "I wish 
 Florence hadn't gone back to town." 
 
 In that brief sentence Susan knew he had said 
 more than in all the more excited passage of a few 
 moments ago. 
 
 The dull booming of the ocean went on. Delane 
 seemed so helpless; mankind seemed so helpless in 
 the presence of that great throb of life which was 
 like the desire which is in the hearts of all men for 
 happiness and love.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Beyond the amazement Florence felt after the 
 scene with Delane on the rocks, her chief impression 
 was that her feeling of dislike for him was more 
 deeply planted within herself than she had supposed; 
 that her original lack of sympathy with him had 
 developed, on account of the close quarters to which 
 they had come, into something very like a repellent 
 attitude toward him. This being the case, she saw 
 that it would be necessary some day to have a more 
 definite understanding than had been possible dur- 
 ing the interrupted scene at the picnic. However, 
 the appearance of Mrs. Potter drove thoughts along 
 this line out of her mind. Mrs. Potter was having 
 trouble with the girls. 
 
 "It is not that they are misbehaving themselves," 
 Mrs. Potter hastened to explain, when Florence 
 had finished her breakfast and was ready for an 
 interview with the official chaperone of Greenvale; 
 "but they do not pull together or with me." 
 
 Florence smiled serenely, as she had not looked 
 toward any marked "pulling together" between souls 
 of such different types. At any rate, not during the 
 first few weeks of her Greenvale household. A 
 mere getting on with each other and a semblance of 
 harmony on the surface was about as much as she
 
 194 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 dared hope for. Her relief at Mrs. Potter's words 
 lay in the fact that the latter had announced that 
 her charges were behaving themselves. 
 
 "You must not expect too much at the beginning," 
 Florence remarked. 
 
 "I did expect though," Mrs. Potter went on, "that 
 Gracie would know how to sew and would be of 
 some assistance to me. It is worse than having no 
 one to help ; for I have to take out nearly everything 
 she does." 
 
 "I thought the matter of assistance was going to 
 be rather the other way round," Florence ventured. 
 
 This remark was lost on Mrs. Potter, who ex- 
 claimed, "What can I do with two lazy girls on my 
 hands? Tommy is always pleasant and cheery, but 
 will not work. She doesn't even like to help me in 
 the kitchen, as she says she was sent out to the 
 country to rest. The other one tries to be indus- 
 trious but seems to have no faculty with the needle. 
 As I said, I have to take out nearly every stitch of 
 sewing she does. The other day she ruined Mrs. 
 Morton's new blue satin waist, cut straight 
 through a lovely old piece of lace which had got 
 caught on something." 
 
 Florence nearly laughed, so intense was Mrs. 
 Potter and so complete her failure to see anything 
 beneath the surface of the girls' inability in domestic 
 affairs. She herself had expected very little from 
 them in this line. 
 
 "Of course the flat is beautiful," Mrs. Potter re- 
 sumed. "I have not lived in such a pleasant place
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 195 
 
 since my husband passed on; that was when we 
 were in Somerville and had a little garden of our 
 own. I had hens then and used to make quite a 
 bit of pin money off them. I gave Mr. Potter a 
 French clock one Christmas with the money I made 
 from my hens. I feel much better, of course, to 
 get out of that stuffy old street in Charlestown where 
 I have lived ever since dear William died. But I 
 didn't have so many worries there." 
 
 It was easy to appreciate the difficulties ; but Flor- 
 ence felt she must go slowly, taking sides with the 
 girls whenever it was reasonably decent for her to 
 do so, if only for the sake of keeping them in Green- 
 vale as long as possible. Later she hoped she 
 could place them somewhere in definite work. For 
 the present, to soothe Mrs. Potter's troubled mind 
 and allay her worries was her chief object. It al- 
 most seemed as though it might be more of a task 
 to persuade her to remain in Greenvale than to 
 keep the girls there. 
 
 "You must not be too exacting," Florence said, 
 after a moment. 
 
 "Exacting!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter. "Is it 
 exacting for me to expect those girls to do a little 
 work, to help me with my sewing and wash up 
 the dishes? Only this morning Gracie broke 
 another plate, and Tommy's clothes are in such a 
 condition that I will probably just have to sit down 
 myself and do some mending on them. I don't 
 see how they grew up without knowing more about 
 household matters."
 
 196 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Would you know much about such things if 
 you had never had a home?" Florence inquired. 
 
 "But every one has a home, some time. Of 
 course I know what you told me about them and the 
 sort of way they have been living, and I feel sorry 
 for them. But between you and me there's a screw 
 loose somewhere." 
 
 "There usually is," Florence interrupted. 
 
 "It isn't reasonable to suppose," Mrs. Potter 
 continued, "that those girls are right in their heads, 
 or they would not have led such harum-scarum 
 lives." 
 
 Florence rose and went over to the window. She 
 wondered if all her plans were to be upset through 
 the failure of this woman to understand what she 
 was trying to do. 
 
 "It is merely to give them a chance," she said at 
 last. "That is all I wish for the present, and you 
 must help me now that I have gone so far." She 
 turned and came back to Mrs. Potter and stood 
 looking down at her. "I often think that I would 
 like to see all the miserable families living in the 
 worst degradation of poverty, without sufficient 
 clothes or proper food, given one chance in life. 
 Do you realize that the fine home conditions, the 
 education, comforts and luxuries which have come 
 down to you and me are what these people have 
 never known? Their heritage of poverty, sickness 
 and sin has gone on endlessly. It is bad enough to 
 have had money, to lose it and to have to struggle 
 for your daily bread and butter. But how much
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 197 
 
 worse to have your parents and grandparents ob- 
 scure people who never knew where their next meal 
 was coming from; to be born and raised in such 
 cpnditions and to go on to a worse poverty and 
 obscurity. They are in a dark corridor where per- 
 haps in the beginning there was a little light, but 
 that light is so far away down the long passage of 
 time that now they are in utter blackness ; and the 
 light ahead that should shine for them in the name 
 of humanity and progress flickers and goes out. I 
 only ask that these people be given one chance. Let 
 the families have a clean home, decent clothing and 
 sufficient food for one immortal moment in their 
 lives; then see what would happen." 
 
 Mrs. Potter sat with the promise of a smile upon 
 her face, feeling undoubtedly that her way in life 
 lay among a class of people so different from the 
 ones Mrs. Wainwright was talking about that she 
 could scarcely be expected to fully understand what 
 was being said. Attendance at Tuesday evening 
 prayer meetings and a lifelong s-inging of hymns 
 which tended to the lachrymose had done very little 
 to help this woman understand the humanities of 
 life. Yet Florence proceeded. 
 
 "I know what you and the w.orld think," she said, 
 "that in nearly every case they would throw away 
 the opportunity; that the men would be shiftless, 
 drink if they could find the liquor, and neglect 
 their wives and let the children go dirty the same 
 as ever. But I don't believe this would be true of 
 all, and I never shall. Until society can afford to
 
 198 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 risk the experiment and in a wholesale manner wipe 
 out the slums burning up the wooden infernos of 
 disease and vice and set large communities of 
 these people on their feet in human working con- 
 ditions, I shall believe that somewhere in the bottom 
 of their souls lies a spark which would respond." 
 Mrs. Potter thought it was high time to put in a 
 remark, if her own little worries and cares were 
 to receive any attention. 
 
 "But some of the poor do rise out of it; some of 
 the very poorest become rich and famous," she said. 
 "Look at Mr. Carnegie and Abraham Lincoln." 
 
 "Not the kind of people that I am talking about," 
 Florence answered. "I speak of the ones who often 
 have no work at all; are not skilled in any trade. 
 The ones who frequently figure in the police courts 
 and whose dull faces used to hang over the bars of 
 the saloons." 
 
 "Very unpleasant people indeed," Mrs. Potter 
 interrupted. 
 
 "Give them one chance, I say," Florence went 
 on. "Let them for once be clean, breathe good 
 air; and let them feel that some one has at last 
 stepped between them and their long heritage of suf- 
 fering. It all sounds chimerical, and you are smil- 
 ing that society should be foolish enough to attempt 
 such a thing." 
 
 "I was only wondering," Mrs. Potter said quietly, 
 "who would furnish the cash." 
 
 "But societies and civilizations from time im- 
 memorial have gone into wars; have given the last
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 199 
 
 dollar of the community to send armies into 
 the field ; to enlarge navies, and clothe and care for 
 a million men that they might go out to die. Well, 
 why not to live? Why not tax your community 
 heavily as it is taxed in time of war and. use the 
 money to make men fit to live ? Charitable organi- 
 zations, personal effort, the philanthropy of rich 
 men, and societies for the prevention of this and 
 the prevention of that, are all doing what they can; 
 but the thing must be started on a different basis. 
 It is not merely a matter of raising wages, averting 
 strikes and coming to understandings between em- 
 ployer and employee. It is the business of the 
 whole world, each country doing its share; and the 
 watchword shall be justice and an equal chance for 
 every man. Democracy will break down, is break- 
 ing down, under the false theory that every man 
 has equal ability. No two men are equal in ability, 
 just as no two minds are exactly alike. One iota 
 of intelligence in the one makes the difference. 
 But all men should have an equal chance to pursue 
 life according to their varied talents. This will 
 not be possible until the blackness of our slums and 
 the degradation of poverty are removed ; and when 
 society, turning from thoughts of progress to the 
 ideals of humanity, shall cry, 'Let there be light.' ' 
 
 Florence stopped, smiling a little when she thought 
 of her audience. Mrs. Potter looked bewildered. 
 
 "My husband was a great man for those demo- 
 cratic principles," she said at last. "He used to 
 say, 'I guess I am just as good as James Swiggins,'
 
 200 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 he was our next-door neighbor, 'even if Jim 
 has been able to send his boy to college.' But then, 
 we never had any children. I guess I am just as 
 well off, though, in my old age, for never having 
 gone through the experience." 
 
 "Come, Mrs. Potter," Florence said, laughing, 
 "you have had enough of my social theories; let's 
 go out and see the girls." 
 
 This served to bring Mrs. Potter back to earth, 
 for the poor woman was becoming somewhat vague. 
 When they reached Greenvale an hour later Flor- 
 ence thought her "experiment" was indeed not in 
 its most promising mood. The flat looked disor- 
 derly; the breakfast dishes were unwashed, and a 
 number of pieces of sewing were lying about on the 
 floor, while Gracie and Tommy were talking to- 
 gether in the dining room with the Victrola in full 
 swing. Florence, realizing Mrs. Potter's agitation, 
 pretended to view the matter calmly; although she 
 could not fail to be displeased to see how long habit 
 and the inability of the girls was showing itself. 
 
 "Come now, Gracie," she said, as an opening 
 wedge, "this is not the way I behave in my home in 
 the morning. The house has to be tidied up ; what- 
 ever sewing there is to be done, attended to; and 
 things put to rights. I don't see why you should 
 take this liberty with Mrs. Potter; for this is her 
 home, as well as yours for the time being, and you 
 must respect it. I did not send you out here merely 
 to have a good time. I want you to learn to be 
 industrious and to behave yourselves like ladies ; for
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 201 
 
 I think neither of you girls realize how bad it looks 
 to be wasting the morning in this way. You might 
 just as well learn it now as later." 
 
 This was the first time Mrs. Wainwright had 
 ever lectured to them, and both Gracie and Tommy 
 were embarrassed. They did not seem to be sorry 
 for what they had done but rather afraid they might 
 be sent back to the city and were plainly ill at ease, 
 wondering if their patron were very angry with 
 them. 
 
 Florence took off her hat and coat, put on one of 
 Mrs. Potter's aprons and, going into the kitchenette, 
 began to pile up the dirty dishes preparatory to 
 washing them. The amazement on the part of the 
 girls was not greater than Mrs. Potter's. Finally 
 Gracie stepped forward and took hold of Florence's 
 arm. 
 
 "That's no work for you to be doing. Let 
 Tommy and me do the clearing up," she exclaimed, 
 showing at last some interest in the matter. 
 
 She picked up the dish pan, filled it with hot 
 water from the kettle, and was soon busy with soap 
 and towel. 
 
 "We will all do it together," Florence said, "and 
 then it will be the sooner over." 
 
 This idea pleased the girls immensely, and they 
 helped with a right good will, insisting that Mrs. 
 Potter should stay out of the kitchen and attend 
 to her sewing. 
 
 "It is rather fun doing housework, isn't it, when 
 there are a lot of people messing about together?"
 
 202 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Tommy remarked, as she wiped and polished the 
 knives and forks. 
 
 "It is certainly easier that way," Florence replied. 
 
 Gracie began to hum a popular song. "There's 
 an awfully good picture at Jordan's Olympic this 
 week," she said, in the midst of her singing. "Pearl 
 Burr in ' Buttons and the Man' ; and I was wonder- 
 ing if it would be all right for us to go in to see it 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Perfectly all right," Florence answered quickly, 
 "if you are certain you will not run into any of 
 your old friends and waste your time sitting around 
 in cafes. You know that sort of thing really isn't 
 any fun. There are lots of things that are much 
 better sport." 
 
 "Oh, no, we won't do that," Gracie said, "for 
 Mr. Delane will take us to the movies any day we 
 want to go. I only have to telephone him, you see." 
 
 Florence did not know just what to say to this. 
 It was all very well for Delane to take an interest 
 in the girls, especially as he had done so much to 
 make the present project possible; but she could 
 not approve of the idea of his being so friendly and 
 so much one of the family that he could be sum- 
 moned by telephone at any moment, like an old pal. 
 
 "I hardly think it right to presume too much on 
 Mr. Delane's time," she said at last. "Of course, 
 you would have to see the picture in the afternoon, 
 as you know that you agreed not to go out in the 
 evening until Tommy is stronger. I am sure it 
 would be asking a great deal of a very busy man
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 203 
 
 to suggest that Mr. Delane should do anything in 
 the afternoon." 
 
 "The afternoons are all right for him at this 
 time of the year," Tommy interrupted. "He is 
 coming out to-day to take us to ride. Gee! that's 
 funny dope," she added, after a moment, "to be 
 riding around with the swell young feller in the auto 
 that broke your leg." 
 
 Some of the difficulties that were bound to occur 
 in Florence's Greenvale scheme seemed to be ap- 
 pearing with remarkable swiftness. There was 
 Mrs. Potter's dissatisfaction; the lack of industry 
 and purpose on the part of the girls; and now the 
 appearance of the male element on the scene, which 
 perhaps affected Florence more unpleasantly than 
 any slight domestic friction in the flat could have 
 done. She had known from the first that some sort 
 of a man would be desirable, if Gracie and her friend 
 were to remain reasonably contented in the coun- 
 try. She would almost have liked a husband for 
 Mrs. Potter, who, in spite of his age, would at 
 least have been in trousers. She only wished that 
 the man had not appeared in the person of Delane. 
 Why she should feel so strongly this uneasiness 
 about him she could not quite tell; except that she 
 had felt it from the beginning, during those days 
 at the hospital over the sick bed of Tommy. But 
 since his declaration of devotion to herself, it 
 would be logical to expect that he was not in the 
 state of mind to pursue the general feminine in 
 place of the special.
 
 204 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 It occurred to her now that the only thing to do 
 was to let Delane play around with the girls until 
 she should see things which would necessitate a 
 halt in the proceedings. She could not see the 
 whole scheme fall through on account of her own 
 squeamishness. She decided to stay to luncheon 
 that she might be on the spot when Delane came to 
 take the girls out riding and show him that she was 
 quite aware of his interest in them. 
 
 The presence of Mrs. Wainwright at the table 
 had a very cheering effect upon Mrs. Potter's little 
 household; and that lady became so brightened in 
 spirits that she said she would go herself to the 
 movies with the girls whenever they wished. 
 Grade, frowning at Tommy, remarked that she did 
 not believe Mrs. Potter would like "Buttons and the 
 Man" .because Pearl Burr was such an awful 
 "vamp," and that some of her clothes would surely 
 shock "Aunt Agnes." 
 
 "Why the 'Aunt Agnes?' " Florence asked. It 
 was the first time she had heard this title for Mrs. 
 Potter whose given name happened to be Mary. 
 
 "Oh, because it sounds sort of like a 'Maiden's 
 Prayer,' " Tommy replied, at which every one burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 Mrs. Potter did not seem to mind the nickname 
 and ate her stewed kidneys and baked potato with 
 great relish. 
 
 Delane appeared promptly at half-past two and 
 was not at all surprised to find Mrs. Wainwright 
 there. In fact, Florence was somewhat discoun-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 205 
 
 tenanced by his desire that she should -join them on 
 the ride. He was apparently trying to make it evi- 
 dent to her more clearly than ever that it was only 
 because of his fondness for her that he was playing 
 attendance upon Gracie and Tommy. 
 
 In a confidential aside he said, "I am doing every- 
 thing in my power to make them contented here 
 and to make this plan of yours a success. You 
 know they have got good stuff in them, especially 
 Gracie. I realize that girls of their type won't 
 stay marooned out here in the country with an old 
 lady ; so I just drop in on them every chance I get. 
 Of course you don't mind." 
 
 Florence made no direct answer to this; but she 
 intimated that persons of the sort he was talking 
 about were very susceptible to anything in trousers, 
 and that perhaps a little of him would go a great 
 way. 
 
 "You can be very funny, Mrs. Wainwright." 
 he said. Then after a moment, "I hope I didn't 
 annoy you much by what I said the other day." 
 
 "It depends on what you mean by much," Flor- 
 ence replied. 
 
 "That I did not take you too much by surprise." 
 
 "I was quite as surprised as it is possible for a 
 person to be," Florence said. 
 
 "But you must have known " 
 
 "I knew nothing; had no suspicion of your 
 feeling toward me." 
 
 "Then you have thought about it?" Delane pur- 
 sued.
 
 206 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Don't let's talk of that here," Florence mur- 
 mured, as the girls came into the room, dressed to go 
 out. 
 
 Florence would not accept the invitation to ride 
 into town; but waving good-by to the party in the 
 motor, returned to the house for a chat with Mrs. 
 Potter. In the course of the conversation it was 
 revealed that Gracie had been taken one evening by 
 Delane into town for dinner. As she had had so 
 little excitement, it seemed all right to let her go, 
 Mrs. Potter thought ; and had said nothing about it 
 for fear of worrying Florence. 
 
 "With any one else, naturally I would have said 
 No," Mrs. Potter explained. "But Mr. Delane is 
 a friend of yours, and I knew she was in safe 
 hands." 
 
 Safe hands? Florence wondered. One thing 
 very plain to her was that Mrs. Potter, with her 
 trusting attitude and lack of experience in the ways 
 of the world, might require quite as much oversight 
 as the girls. 
 
 That evening Rothwell dropped in to see Flor- 
 ence. Max was out, which suited Florence's pur- 
 poses perfectly, for she wanted to ask Rothwell 
 about several things. He was staying at the shore 
 with Susan and said that he had run up to town 
 especially to see Mrs. Wainwright, probably, she 
 thought, at Susan's suggestion. 
 
 "I want to. know,"" Florence began*, "if you really 
 like Jim Delane ; if you think he is the right sort. I 
 should like to get a man's opinion of him. Of
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 207 
 
 course, my brother's idea of him is not much good 
 since he is so frightfully partial." 
 
 "Why, I don't know that I have ever thought 
 much about Delane one way or the other," Rothwell 
 answered. "People like him I don't usually think 
 of as being the right or wrong sort, they are just 
 themselves, you see, and it is not necessary to pi- 
 geonhole them." 
 
 "What a perfect system you English have," 
 Florence said, smiling. "For you there is really 
 only one kind of people, and the rest don't matter." 
 
 "I don't know about that," Rothwell went on. 
 "The outsiders are all very well, sometimes notice- 
 ably so, as in the case of Delane. But they are still 
 outsiders, aren't they?" 
 
 "Americans haven't that word 'outsiders,' " Flor- 
 ence continued. "And I think it rather shows our 
 different point of view because we don't use it as you 
 do. I admit we often err the other way and fail to 
 make distinctions between people, necessary distinc- 
 tions which are good for both classes. Our soci- 
 ety loses a certain tone in consequence. But it is 
 natural for us to have a healthy curiosity about 
 people in every walk of life. That curiosity, so in- 
 herent in the American temperament, leads to a kind 
 of understanding and sympathy. That is our social 
 grace, perhaps our only one." 
 
 "You will confess, though, won't you," Rothwell 
 said, after a moment, "that I get on better with De- 
 lane than you do; and this in spite of calling him an 
 outsider."
 
 208 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "That is the curious part," Florence exclaimed; 
 "he interests me, but I frankly acknowledge I do not 
 like him." 
 
 "There you are," Rothwell continued. "Delane 
 does not interest me in the slightest, but I have taken 
 something of a fancy to him." 
 
 Florence was silent a moment. Then she said, 
 "Perhaps your system works better than ours. You 
 never make an effort to get inside another person's 
 skin, but you have a natural good humor toward 
 people which certainly makes for social amenity. 
 What I want to know is, would you trust Delane?" 
 
 "Surely your brother is the man for you to ask 
 that," Rothwell was quick to reply. 
 
 "Oh, Max swears by Delane. He admires his 
 business ability, and he likes him as a man." 
 
 "Then why do you need any further light on the 
 subject?" 
 
 "Because there are different angles in a subject," 
 Florence answered. "There are aspects of Delane 
 that I must consider which would never enter my 
 brother's mind at all." 
 
 "And you think I am a better thermometer re- 
 specting certain values," Rothwell laughed. "You 
 mean in connection with Greenvale ?" 
 
 "Yes," Florence said. "Delane has helped to 
 make it possible for me to place those two girls of 
 mine in Greenvale. He has shown an interest in 
 the project from the beginning; and he is now danc- 
 ing attendance upon Gracie and Tommy, so that 
 they may have a little diversion," she added, with a
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 209 
 
 laugh. "But a number of things have happened 
 lately which have made me wonder if he is doing all 
 this merely to gain my good will, to square himself 
 with me. Is his interest really sincere? That is 
 what I would like to find out." 
 
 "But how should I know?" Rothwell inquired, 
 with the blankest expression imaginable. "I have 
 seen Jim with Susan, with you and Max, here and 
 there quite casually; and I have always had a jolly 
 good time with him." 
 
 "You delightful soul!" Florence cried, jumping 
 up. "Don't bother your dear old head about the 
 complicated things of life; but come into the other 
 room and play the piano for me." 
 
 There was not the slightest doubt in Florence's 
 mind that she was in love with Rothwell. On the 
 night of Susan's party, when she had felt that over- 
 whelming attraction in him, she had tried to fight 
 against it. She had continued to do so for a long 
 time after, even when she knew that he was above 
 all other people the one she liked best to be with. 
 Then during Susan's absence from Boston, when 
 she had made special efforts to give him a good time, 
 she had fought against the knowledge that he was 
 anything more to her than a friend. But now she 
 wanted him as a lover ; and as he sat playing to her 
 this evening, she felt all his charm. His very cool- 
 ness of attitude was part of the charm he held for 
 her. Perhaps because he had never been sentimental 
 with her had never regarded her other than as a 
 good pal with whom he had had many jolly times
 
 210 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 added to the fascination. He really played the 
 piano delightfully. He did so many things well; 
 and yet his mind was as simple as a child's. Flor- 
 ence wondered if she would care to have a husband 
 like that, at the same time letting her fancy run on 
 until she could imagine perfect happiness with such 
 a man. How different from her brother, who was 
 always concentrated upon the essentials of life. 
 How much he seemed to miss because of that; and 
 yet, Florence wondered, as Rothwell broke into the 
 splendid opening bars of the Grande Valse of 
 Glazunov, if it were not just on account of missing 
 the finer shades of life that American men had been 
 able to go so far in the realities of business and 
 finance. The success that comes with achievement 
 in the world of affairs brings with it a certain lack 
 of appreciation. Rothwell belonged undoubtedly to 
 the decorative side of life. 
 
 The music stopped. Rothwell sat looking across 
 the piano at Florence, who was in the corner of the 
 room under the shaded glow of a big lamp. 
 
 "Did you like that?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes ; play some more. I love it all." 
 
 He struck a few chords at random and then 
 dashed into a Chopin etude, the one known as the 
 "Butterfly." Rothwell was essentially masculine, 
 hearty and full of the love of out-of-door life, and 
 yet he played Chopin with infinite grace and feeling. 
 Florence had known men who played delightfully or 
 painted, and she had met professional pianists in 
 Paris and known one or two rather well. But they
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 211 
 
 had been very different; so little suggestive of any- 
 thing beyond their art. Although long hair had 
 long since passed out of fashion for the concert 
 stage, they were the sort of men who suggested the 
 bizarre in appearance. They were aneamic or with 
 the burned-out expression of men who have suc- 
 cumbed to every passion. Rothwell's face was cast 
 in a fine mold. His features were sensitive and his 
 eyes very beautiful; but the whole effect was of the 
 perfectly normal type. This was what had so often 
 impressed Florence. She loved his strength, and 
 she admired the delicacy of his mind. 
 
 "To play like that there must have been a time 
 when you studied very hard," Florence said, as the 
 music came to an end. 
 
 "Yes, I played quite seriously for a number of 
 years," Rothwell replied. "I had a chum who 
 painted, Harry Mawson, a splendid fellow. He 
 went over to Paris to study his art, and I went with 
 him. We took a studio together and had great fun ; 
 although I think my playing rather got on Mawson's 
 nerves when he was trying to concentrate on a par- 
 ticularly good model." 
 
 "Of course you did not know Susan then," Flor- 
 ence put in. 
 
 "No, indeed; she is a later event in my life. 
 Mawson was killed in the war. Since then in fact, 
 since the war I seem to have cared very little about 
 my music. I think I like life too much to spend 
 my days cramped up over a piano, trying to make 
 myself into a virtuoso. And then you see Susan has
 
 212 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 been rather an absorbing interest the last year or 
 two." 
 
 There was a pause, and Florence seemed to feel 
 for the first time the intensity of this man's devotion 
 to her friend. She never had believed it could be 
 anything but a deep admiration on the part of Hu- 
 bert, the discrepancy in years between himself and 
 Susan putting out of her mind any thought of the 
 romantic. But she realized now that it was some- 
 thing far deeper and more vital -than mere friend- 
 ship. 
 
 "The pity is," Hubert said at last, "the lady won't 
 marry me." 
 
 Florence would have been inclined to laugh if 
 she had not seen so clearly the sadness behind his 
 words. 
 
 "I suppose I shall go back to England and end 
 my days in bacherlorhood," he went on, getting up 
 from the piano. 
 
 "That should not be necessary," she ventured. 
 
 Hubert stood looking down at her. The lamp- 
 light surrounded him with a kind of rosy halo. 
 How Florence wanted to cry out, "Look at me; 
 take me as your wife. I am ready; I am only 
 waiting for the word. I love you. I know now 
 the strength of that love; for you have only to stand 
 there all aglow before me to make my whole being 
 thrill with the desire of you." 
 
 But those words could not be said. Florence 
 merely looked at him and then down at the floor; 
 and Hubert was moving away from her. The in-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 213 
 
 timate word had not been spoken. Would she ever 
 be able to touch the vital note in him? Would she 
 ever arouse in him the feeling that he caused in her ? 
 Would he go out of her life, leaving only the sweet 
 memory of a great beauty which had passed across 
 her vision like those glimpses that one gets some- 
 times on the sea between sundown and twilight 
 when all is illumined by the unearthly color that no 
 poet or painter could ever depict, the light that 
 never was upon heaven or earth but which lies deep 
 down in the soul of every mortal? 
 
 She did not know. After Hubert had gone, Flor- 
 ence sat a long time in the dimly lighted room while 
 her thoughts floated far away, dreaming of a pos- 
 sible happiness. She felt like weeping, but instead 
 of giving way to that mood, she turned out the 
 light and went upstairs saying to herself, "I wonder 
 if I am getting foolishly sentimental."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Florence was with Hubert most of the next day 
 when they went together to one of the country 
 clubs near town; they had luncheon, played nine 
 holes of golf, and spent the rest of the afternoon 
 cooling off with the aid of tall glasses of iced tea 
 sipped on the porch of the clubhouse. Roth well re- 
 turned in the evening to Susan and the sea breezes 
 of the shore, as he had a tennis match to play early 
 the next morning. That evening Florence was still 
 in what she had chosen to call her sentimental mood 
 about Hubert when Max came into the room, an- 
 nouncing that if the building fever kept on at its pres- 
 ent pace in Greenvale, and land values there continued 
 to rise, he would be a rich man before very long. 
 
 "That is fine," Florence said, getting up. "But 
 I am tired of the business of life. It all amounts to 
 so little in the total reckoning." 
 
 "I don't know what you are talking about," Max 
 put in. "But my totals won't be small, if that is 
 what you mean." 
 
 His sister laughed. Suddenly she said, "Does 
 Delane ever talk about me?" 
 
 "He used to talk a good deal about you, just 
 after he first met you. He was always trying to 
 arrange some party with you, or expecting that I
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 215 
 
 would bring him up to the house to see you. But 
 I knew how you felt on the subject, and I did not 
 let him get very far." Max was silent a moment. 
 "I wish you liked Jim better," he added. 
 
 "I wish I did," Florence said a little sadly. "It 
 would simplify matters so." 
 
 "You mean that you know Jim is pretty keen 
 about you." 
 
 "Of course. But you wouldn't like me to recip- 
 rocate, would you ?" 
 
 "My dear girl !" Max exclaimed, crossing over to 
 Florence and putting his arm about her. "What- 
 ever made you think of that?" 
 
 "Because I try to think of everything that has 
 to do with your happiness," she answered. 
 
 "I would be the last person to want Jim Delane 
 as a brother-in-law," Max went on vehemently. 
 "My welfare can go hang before he shall ever make 
 love to you." 
 
 Florence started to say something, and then she 
 stopped. She knew it was better not to tell her 
 brother that Delane had already declared himself to 
 her. She had cause to wonder later if it would 
 not have been wiser if she had told him all ; but there 
 was the fear that he would speak to Delane and 
 might antagonize him, which quite naturally might 
 lead to a difficulty in their business relations. 
 
 She continued to wonder ; but as the months went 
 by and she saw nothing of Delane, who had gone 
 into the country for a holiday, she never spoke of 
 him to her brother. Max was too busy to leave the
 
 216 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 office for a vacation ; but Delane could indulge him- 
 self, seeing how the success of Greenvale was not 
 such a necessary factor in his finances as it was to 
 Kendall. The departure of Delane to the country 
 had really taken a burden off Florence's mind, as she 
 was never altogether comfortable now when he was 
 about, feeling that at any time he might break forth 
 into the subject of his devotion to her. But she 
 thought he must have come now to a realization of 
 her attitude toward him; that Susan had probably 
 helped her in this matter, and that those complica- 
 tions which she had imagined earlier in the summer 
 had vanished into air, as such things are likely to 
 do when seen in perspective. 
 
 It was autumn now, and Susan was preparing to 
 leave the shore. Florence went down for a last 
 visit with her. Rothwell, who was staying at a 
 nearby hotel, spent most of his time at Miss Ander- 
 ton's. There were some fine walks with him along 
 the cliffs in the sharp September wind. One day 
 he and Florence set out late in the afternoon. 
 Everything was gold and blue. The bayberry 
 bushes and thorn berries had turned red; the sun 
 made them a deep copper color. The sunlight came 
 slanting through gray clouds and had the rich yellow 
 tone of early autumn. The sea was indigo. Roth- 
 well, swinging a stick and without a hat, marched 
 on ahead of Florence in the narrow footpath at the 
 top of the rocks. He seemed to her all edged 
 with gold, a fine figure against the deep blue sea. 
 
 At last they sat down in a sheltered corner of
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 217 
 
 the cliffs ; sat very close to each other, and Hubert 
 could feel his companion pressing slightly against 
 him. Florence had never been so near him, had 
 never felt before the charm of his personality so 
 close to her. He was gazing into the beyond and 
 humming a melody, one of the things he was in the 
 habit of playing. She was swept away into space 
 by this nearness to the man she loved. He must 
 feel it, he must respond, she thought. A flock of 
 birds going south for the winter shot like an arrow 
 across the sky and disappeared into the radiant 
 distance. 
 
 After a time Hubert put his arm around Flor- 
 ence and took her hand. She allowed herself to 
 slide over against him, her head resting on his 
 shoulder. Not a word was said. The wind sang 
 through the low growth of bushes behind them. 
 Far down the long sweep of shore two men were 
 pulling in a boat. The sun caught them now and 
 then, and they stood out in bright relief like figures 
 in a play when all the light is directed on them. A 
 thin spiral of smoke, so indistinct that it was almost 
 a part of the sky, hung on the edge of the horizon 
 where some steamer was dipping down across the 
 great curve of the world. For Florence, perfect 
 bliss; for the man, a slight uneasiness and a wild 
 confusion of thoughts in his brain. Rothwell was 
 not sure just how fond he was of this woman beside 
 him. That he admired her and liked being with 
 her there could not be a shadow of doubt in his 
 mind. But did he love her? If he were not head
 
 218 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 over heels in love with her, upon which point he 
 thought he saw himself quite clearly, he wondered if 
 he would ever feel any more strongly attracted by 
 any one. Perhaps he was not the sort to fall dizzily 
 in love; and yet he knew what his attitude toward 
 Susan had been. That for him had been a deep 
 devotion. He never had been much good at the 
 ordinary flirtation kind of thing, and the mere fact 
 that a very beautiful girl was sitting beside him 
 could not change the general habit of his mind. 
 "Confound it," he declared to himself, "this is all 
 too mental. I am reasoning all this out in a cold- 
 blooded manner. But doesn't this prove," his train 
 of thoughts ran on, "that I am not desperately smit- 
 ten in the present situation?" 
 
 And so they sat for perhaps an hour ; when Flor- 
 ence, feeling the wind to be getting rather brisk 
 and realizing that no warmth was to be expected 
 from her companion to offset the temper of the 
 climate, proposed that they go home. It was a wel- 
 come suggestion to Hubert, who was beginning to 
 feel a slight awkwardness and was wondering just 
 how much he ought to say if he spoke at all of the 
 ambiguous situation which seemed to have arisen 
 between himself and Mrs. Wainwright. When they 
 got back to the Anderton cottage Florence was both 
 radiant and angry. The man seemed to her impos- 
 sible. Would he never see things as they really 
 stood? She said good night as shortly as could 
 be done with decency and retreated to her room. 
 
 "What is the matter with Florence?" Susan asked.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 219 
 
 "I have seen quite plainly this afternoon that she 
 is very fond of me." 
 
 "And of course you remained an icicle," Susan 
 exclaimed. "I would like to give you a good beat- 
 ing." 
 
 "But how can you expect me to love every pretty 
 girl that you throw in my way?" 
 
 "Florence Wainwright is not a girl, and I don't 
 expect you to flirt promiscuously," Susan blurted 
 out. "But she is just the match for' you, and I see 
 that you are a goose." 
 
 "Don't be hard on me, dear Susan," Hubert 
 laughed. "Surely I must have time to make up my 
 mind." 
 
 "Oh, damn your mind. It's your heart that 
 ought to tell you what to do." 
 
 "That's just the trouble," Rothwell went on, 
 quite undismayed by his friend's vehemence. "It 
 doesn't." 
 
 The next day he stayed away; but another man 
 appeared on the scene. This was no other than 
 Delane. His arrival was most unexpected, for he 
 was supposed to be in the White Mountains some- 
 where in a camp with his sister and several con- 
 genial spirits. He said he had not intended to be 
 away so long, but that he had not been altogether 
 well and his doctor had advised country air; while 
 Max had assured him that things were going all 
 right at the office, and thbre was absolutely no hurry 
 for him to return. 
 
 "But I had to see Max before he went to New
 
 220 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 York," Delane continued, in explanation of himself. 
 
 "Yes ; he is going over to-night," Florence replied, 
 "and I am returning to town this a fternoon to pack 
 him off." 
 
 "That is such a pity, just as I have arrived," 
 Delane exclaimed. "By the way, I was with Max 
 all day yesterday; and he especially told me to say 
 that you were not to hurry up to town to-day to see 
 him off. That he was quite all right and wouldn't 
 be away more than a fortnight." 
 
 "That is all very good of Max," Florence said, 
 "but I was leaving to-morrow, anyway. Poor 
 Susan has certainly had enough of me for one sea- 
 son. It seems as though I had been coming and 
 going all summer. There must be other friends that 
 you would like to have stay with you before you 
 close this house," she continued, turning to her 
 friend. 
 
 "I will invite Jim at once," Susan replied. "But 
 you know how simple it would be for me to put 
 you both up." 
 
 A sort of companion combination seamstress 
 and ex-lady's maid had been with Susan through- 
 out the summer ; so that Rothwell's frequent appear- 
 ances and these casual invitations to other men had 
 not caused a flutter among the South Shore colony, 
 although it must be admitted that some of the more 
 elderly Floyds and Crumpletons a family of more 
 than "Social Register" standing, having had two 
 great-grandfathers in the Revolution and no end of 
 silver on the Mayflower looked rather askance
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 221 
 
 at the buxom Miss Anderton and her free and easy 
 ways, savoring, they thought, a little too much of 
 the shores of the Mediterranean to be in the picture 
 out here on the rock-bound Atlantic coast. 
 
 "Of course I will stay," Delane laughed; "and 
 you must persuade Mrs. Wainwright to do the 
 same." 
 
 "It is impossible," Florence said. "I want to see 
 Max before he goes ; and more than that, my settle- 
 ment house begins its work for the winter to-morrow 
 with a special meeting in the morning to devise 
 ways and means really one of the most important 
 meetings we have the entire year and I must not 
 miss it. I will have to go this afternoon," she 
 concluded, "Please look up the trains for me, 
 Susan." 
 
 Miss Anderton, whose sureness never failed her 
 in the matter of details, announced there was an 
 excellent train at five-four, which would get Flor- 
 ence to town in plenty of time to see her brother 
 before he left on the "midnight." 
 
 "If you take that, you will be able to have tea 
 here before you go," she added. "I will get Hu- 
 bert over; for he will want to say good-by and 
 probably has not the slightest idea that you are run- 
 ning away from us to-day." 
 
 "And I will take you to the station in my car," 
 Delane declared. 
 
 Efforts to get Rothwell for tea were not success- 
 ful. He was not at the hotel. The clerk there 
 thought he had gone out on a sailing party but was
 
 222 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 not sure just where he was or when he would re- 
 turn. Florence looked a little dubious. She won- 
 dered if there were not an earlier train. 
 
 "Only a horrid old local that picks up the trippers 
 from Nantasket," Susan explained. "Besides, you 
 want your tea." 
 
 They sat on the verandah and watched a big 
 black cloud which was sweeping in from the sea 
 in the form of an immense sector of a circle. It 
 had ragged edges and looked ugly. The water 
 near the shore was very calm and the color of lead. 
 There was a dead stillness in the air and that pecu- 
 liar feeling that gives one the impression of a 
 world suspended at the bottom of a vacuum. A 
 strange light hung over the clean-cut edge of the 
 horizon. The rolling country to the west was dis- 
 turbingly distinct, each house and tree and hill 
 standing out like paper silhouettes in an unreal pan- 
 orama. It was like a land of the dead with no 
 breeze to rustle the trees, no song of birds, and no 
 movement or sound from the great flat expanse of 
 water that lay darkly under the shadow of the ap- 
 proaching storm. 
 
 "I hope Hubert's sailing party will return before 
 that cloud bursts over us," Florence said, as she 
 made ready to go. 
 
 "There is not a boat in sight," Delane remarked, 
 looking out across the sea. 
 
 "He may not be sailing at all," Susan put in 
 cheerfully. "I find that hotel clerks and officials 
 generally are a very unreliable source of informa-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 223 
 
 tion. Whether the liberal system of education of 
 which America is so proud or a certain dullness of 
 brain causes this vagueness, is more than I can say. 
 But I do know that scarcely anywhere on the Con- 
 tinent or in England is there such casualness about 
 small things as one finds right here in this country." 
 
 "You have the wrong audience if you are going 
 to attack the sacred institutions of our land," Flor- 
 ence interrupted. 
 
 "I am not criticizing America," Susan replied 
 quickly. "I love it. Would I stay here so long if 
 I didn't like it? But I often wonder why the rank 
 and file of people consider themselves so infinitely 
 superior to all other races under the sun, when they 
 show such an inaptitude to the little things of life, 
 which are really the only things that make life at all 
 possible. Doesn't a telephone girl nearly always 
 show a surprising degree of inattention to what you 
 are trying to say to her, and soda-fountain clerks 
 ask you twice what drink you want before you get 
 it? Perhaps specializing in the higher branches of 
 science and night schools befuddles the brain and is 
 the explanation of the somnambulent attitude of 
 the proletariat in the daytime." 
 
 "You are very amusing," Florence said, as she 
 kissed Susan good-by, "and I would like to stay and 
 explode your arguments. But I know that you 
 never could be convinced that over here we are 
 quite up to the mark of European standards." 
 
 "You are way beyond it," Susan answered. 
 "That is the trouble. You have jumped from the
 
 224 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 first rung of the ladder to the top, and consequently 
 are a little dazed by it. The European is a perfect 
 child beside you ; but at each step of his civilization 
 he has had his feet firmly on the ground. He hasn't 
 skipped." 
 
 "Well, if he hasn't, I must,' f Florence said hur- 
 riedly, as she started off with Delane. 
 
 The rain was just beginning to fall as they rode 
 down to the station. The sky was very dark, and 
 the sea had been blotted out entirely by the clouds 
 that were rolling in from the east. When they 
 reached the station there was no one there, not 
 even the ticket clerk or station agent. There was 
 no evidence of an approaching train or of one that 
 had just left. Florence looked at Delane in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "Have we missed it?" she asked. 
 
 "It is more likely that Susan has missed it," De- 
 lane replied. "She probably does not understand 
 our time-tables any more than so many other things 
 about us which she fails to grasp." 
 
 "I thought you were Susan's champion," Flor- 
 ence interrupted. 
 
 "I am, except when she goes on the way she did 
 this afternoon. She ought to know that America is 
 a pretty fine country in spite of everything." 
 
 "It was because of Mr. Rothwell," Florence con- 
 tinued. "She knew he hadn't gone sailing and was 
 annoyed when the clerk at the hotel would not throw 
 any light on the subject. But what are we to do 
 if there isn't a train?"
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 225 
 
 "Oh, I will get you to town all right," Delane 
 said, going into the station. 
 
 The schedule on the board was examined, and 
 it was found that Susan's "five-four" ran only on 
 Sundays. The local and earlier train was the only 
 one on week days until a train somewhat late in the 
 evening. 
 
 "That evening train will never do," Florence said 
 dolefully. "Max will be gone by that time." 
 
 "Don't you worry, my dear lady," Delane said. 
 "Jump into the machine, and I will get you up to 
 town sooner than the train would have done." 
 
 "I am sure of that," Florence replied. "Sooner 
 than the train that runs only on Sundays. But how 
 about the storm, and your dashing off to Boston 
 just after you have come down here to visit Susan? 
 Besides, she will be horribly nervous if we are to 
 have a regular tempest." 
 
 "I am not worrying about her," Delane laughed. 
 "As for myself, I can get back here to-night." 
 
 Florence tried to look cheerful, but she felt any- 
 thing but that. Delane was driving his own car, a 
 speedy little roadster; and the prospect of a ride 
 with him to town was not altogether to her fancy. 
 On Delane's part, he was only too glad that his big 
 car and chauffeur were not on the scene; for in 
 that case there would have been small excuse for his 
 going along too. 
 
 But there seemed nothing else to do but go, if 
 Florence wished to see Max that night. So they 
 were off in the wind and rain ; and Delane promised
 
 226 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 that he would outride the storm, which now was 
 coming rapidly upon them with all the accompani- 
 ment of lightning and thunder. The top of the 
 car was up, the side curtains put on, and everything 
 made as tight as possible for a journey which was 
 bound to be wet. On account of the beating rain, 
 it was hard to see any distance ahead, but they 
 made good time, and Florence was not more than 
 moderately uncomfortable in spite of the almost in- 
 cessant flashes of lightning. However, she was 
 getting wet and cold, and Delane suggested that 
 they stop for supper at some inn on the road; but 
 Florence said that would only delay them and that 
 she was not hungry. 
 
 Then something happened, which of course is 
 to be expected in the best of weather where motors 
 are concerned. Delane got out in the rain and 
 tinkered with the engine. At last he said he knew 
 what was the matter, but that he must stop at the 
 next village and get a garage to fix him up. There 
 was really nothing seriously wrong with the car ; but 
 Delane wished to make as much of it as possible, 
 thinking a stop for supper would be pleasant and 
 feeling sure that in spite of the delay he could 
 make town before Kendall left. When Florence 
 was assured of this, she was not at all loath to eat 
 and dry herself a bit; for the storm had pursued 
 them all the way, and the rain was beating in from 
 every side. A mile or two farther on, they came 
 to a brightly lighted house somewhat back from the 
 road, which advertised chicken dinners and made a
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 227 
 
 speciality of hearty food beneath its modest sign of 
 "tea house." 
 
 A big fire was blazing in the dining room, and 
 Delane escorted Florence to a table in the angle of 
 the chimney, which position served to dry them off 
 while the candlelight and glow from the fireplace 
 made them as cozy and comfortable as could be 
 desired. Florence knew perfectly well when she 
 sat down to supper that her companion would be- 
 come sentimental. The way he leaned toward her 
 across the table, smiling pleasantly all the while, 
 showed clearly what was in his mind. She was 
 hardly prepared, though, for his rather all-embrac- 
 ing remark when he said, "The only time I am really 
 happy is when I am with you." 
 
 After which he put out his hand as if to take 
 Florence's, which was resting on the table, and con- 
 tinued, "I hope you don't mind me being quite frank 
 with you. I never had the knack of beating around 
 the bush and saying a lot of things I didn't mean." 
 
 "Perhaps frankness is the best way for both of 
 us," Florence replied, withdrawing her hand. "But 
 I thought that day on the beach had settled all 
 this between us. I am sure if you really care for 
 me, you will not bring up this subject again." 
 
 "But you ran away from me," Delane persisted; 
 "and I was left not knowing what your state of 
 mind might be." 
 
 "A little intuition would have told you." 
 
 "A man is not supposed to have any; the women 
 have a monopoly of that article."
 
 228 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Then using my intuition for want of yours," 
 Florence went on quietly, ''I say that I know exactly 
 what is in your mind. My advice is that you eat 
 your supper and stop thinking of me." 
 "I never could stop thinking about you." 
 "There is no time like the present for trying." 
 "Won't you just let me make a confession; tell 
 you one thing?" 
 
 "If it isn't too personal, perhaps," Florence an- 
 swered. 
 
 "I have written letters to you, telling you how I 
 feel about you, and then have torn them up for 
 fear they would make you angry, or get into Max's 
 hands." 
 
 Florence made no reply. She looked down at 
 her plate, feeling a sudden wave of pity for this 
 man who so evidently was smitten pretty badly by 
 love. What a comedy the whole thing was: her 
 deep regard for some one else and Delane's devo- 
 tion to her, but all at cross-purposes and coming 
 in each case against a blank wall. 
 
 "I'll show you one or two of the letters some day," 
 Delane began again, "if you want to see them. I 
 just couldn't destroy them all because they expressed 
 so well what I feel." 
 
 Florence tried to laugh and consider the whole 
 thing as a joke. 
 
 "The next thing I know," she said, "you will be 
 publishing them under the title of 'Letters of a 
 Love-sick Youth.' " 
 
 This evidently hurt Delane a little. He made no
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 229 
 
 answer but stared straight at Florence for a moment, 
 finally saying, "I guess you don't understand." 
 
 "I only meant," she returned, "that people like 
 to appear in print these days, especially about mat- 
 ters nearest their heart. Come, Jim," she went 
 on, thinking that perhaps a familiar, friendly sort 
 of attitude would serve the quickest to turn his 
 thoughts into another channel, "I am too old not to 
 know my own mind. You know I am not in love 
 with you. How can you expect me to listen to you 
 when you talk in this way?" 
 
 The directness of her remarks evidently had their 
 effect upon him. He was silent a long time and 
 scarcely looked up from the table. 
 
 At last Florence said, "I wish you would tele- 
 phone to my house and see if Max is still there." 
 
 Delane hurried away to do this; he could get no 
 answer over the line to Boston and consumed sev- 
 eral minutes in the men's room, having some rather 
 generous drinks from the flask of a friend whom 
 he ran into and who, like himself, was marooned 
 by the storm. When he came back to the table, his 
 face was a trifle flushed, but he seemed quieter than 
 usual, and Florence thought there was no more 
 danger of his breaking into rhapsodies about herself. 
 
 The supper was finished; and a little after seven 
 they were on their way again. The storm had 
 gone on before them, leaving only a spattering of 
 rain and a gusty wind. Delane drove rapidly and 
 said nothing. Florence was beginning to feel quite 
 comfortable, realizing that she would soon be home
 
 230 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 with time for a quiet chat with Max before he took 
 his train. They entered Boston through the Fenway 
 and could see all about traces of the storm : branches 
 were lying across the road, sand and dirt were 
 flowing into great pools, and everywhere was that 
 washed-out, dejected look which a city has after 
 being swept clean by torrents of rain. People were 
 scarce upon the streets ; a broken umbrella lay in the 
 gutter, and from the upper stories of houses faces 
 looked out to inspect the sky. The sky itself was 
 fitfully lighted by distant flashes, and a few dark 
 clouds hurried over its surface, trying to catch up 
 with the main division of the storm. Like an army 
 that has passed through a country, the tempest leaves 
 its marks of grimness. 
 
 There were no lights in the Kendall house as 
 Florence and Delane went up the steps. In the 
 vestibule she turned the electric switch; but no 
 light was forthcoming. Delane, stepping into the 
 hall, struck a match. Florence called out, "Max, 
 Max! Are you here?" Delane's match went out; 
 she advanced a few steps into the living room ; the 
 front door closed behind her, and utter darkness 
 reigned.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Florence was not at all sure, as she groped about 
 in the blackness of the room, whether Delane had 
 come in behind her or was waiting outside. There 
 was something terrifying in the silence and dark- 
 ness. She tried to find the electric light in the 
 living room, and stumbling against a chair, heard 
 what sounded like a book fall heavily to the floor. 
 Then Delane's voice came from the far end of the 
 room. 
 
 "I guess the storm has put the lights on the 
 blink," he said. 
 
 "Wait a moment," she answered, and hurried into 
 the dining room to fetch the candelabra. There 
 were only two candles in this which she could light ; 
 she came back into the front room and asked De- 
 lane for a match. He came toward her, knocking 
 against something on the way ; . and then she saw 
 the flame of his match. He lighted the candles and 
 placed them on a table by the wall. They were 
 just below a large oil painting of Florence's father 
 and showed up the features of his face in a very 
 effective manner. The picture seemed like one of 
 the old masters from the high light which the candle 
 threw upon the face. The portrait was, in fact, 
 the only thing in the room that could be seen at all
 
 232 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 clearly, and the splendid old gentleman dominated 
 the scene. 
 
 "That's a grand picture," Delane said. "Of your 
 father, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes," Florence murmured in reply. 
 
 The two flickering flames were not sufficient to 
 illuminate the big room; and Florence was aware 
 of the long shadow of her companion, thrown in a 
 huge mass against the wall and ceiling. It seemed 
 to hang over her and the entire apartment. 
 
 "I must see if anything has happened to Max," 
 Florence said, and started out of the room with the 
 candles, leaving Delane in darkness again. 
 
 She went upstairs and into Max's room. There, 
 by the dim light, she saw that his bag and the dis- 
 patch box which he always carried on his business 
 trips were gone. Max had left a note for his sister 
 on the table in the hall, telling her that he was 
 starting on an earlier train than he had expected to 
 take; but of course Florence did not discover this 
 in the darkness. She wished she could speak with 
 Susan, to have communication with the outside 
 world, now that she found herself alone in the 
 house with Delane. It was certainly awkward that 
 he should have come in with her. Yet she realized 
 that if it had been a question of Rothwell, she 
 would have been extremely annoyed if he had not 
 come in, leaving her to enter the dark house alone. 
 She was not exactly afraid, but she was distinctly 
 uncomfortable. She heard a door open and close 
 downstairs. What could Delane be doing? She
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 233 
 
 felt she must talk with Susan ; to say that she had 
 arrived home all right and find out how her friend 
 had come through the storm. The telephone exten- 
 sion was in her room. She picked up the receiver 
 and sat waiting in the light of the candles for an 
 answer. There was no response. Repeated at- 
 tempts to get "Central" were of no avail. The 
 lightning and wind undoubtedly had upset the tele- 
 phone system as it had the lights. For a moment 
 Florence was really frightened. With no lights, no 
 telephone, to be alone with Delane in this great house 
 made her uneasy. Of course she could call down- 
 stairs to him, say good night, and retire to her room 
 and go to bed, leaving the gentleman below to make 
 his exit when he would. But this seemed very un- 
 sportsmanlike, especially since he had brought her 
 to town and was cold and wet like herself. She took 
 up the candelabra again and went down to the 
 living room. She could see the spot of Delane's cig- 
 arette, as he sat in the corner, smoking. 
 
 "I thought you were not coming back," he said, 
 getting up as she came into the room. 
 
 "I was almost minded not to," Florence replied; 
 "for I am really very tired, as I am sure you are. I 
 shall go straight to bed after giving you something 
 to eat, that is, if there is anything to eat in the 
 house. You see we have had no maids this summer 
 and have been getting our meals out most of the 
 time." 
 
 "Aren't you afraid to stay alone in this big 
 house?" Delane said, after a moment.
 
 234 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "It is not the first time I have been here alone at 
 night. Max is away occasionally." 
 
 Delane sat down and lighted another cigarette. 
 
 It occurred to Florence that it might be difficult 
 to get rid of him. He was making himself com- 
 fortable in the big chair and gave no indication of 
 leaving. She had proposed something to eat, as a 
 man is likely to terminate a visit after he has been 
 fed. 
 
 "You might light the fire, if you are cold," Flor- 
 ence said, "and I will see what I can produce in the 
 way of food." 
 
 "Please don't bother on my account," Delane re- 
 plied. "But I will make a fire, for I know you 
 must be cold after the ride." 
 
 While he was busy getting the logs to burn, 
 Florence went out to the pantry and was able to 
 extract from a rather empty cupboard a box of 
 sardines and some plain crackers. She brought 
 these things into the dining room and told Delane 
 to come out and help himself. A cup of tea would 
 have tasted very good to her ; but she knew it would 
 take some time to boil the water, and her main idea 
 was to get the improvised luncheon over as soon as 
 possible and see the last of her companion. 
 
 "There is a bottle of supposedly Canadian Club 
 whisky in the sideboard, if you want to take a 
 chance on it," she said, as she came back from the 
 pantry. 
 
 "A drop to warm me up will do the business in 
 first-rate style," Delane said, as he took out the bot-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 235 
 
 tie and poured himself a decidedly liberal "drop." 
 
 "I can't vouch for it," Florence went on; "but 
 if it hasn't killed Max, I guess you will survive." 
 
 The one source of light was placed in the middle 
 of the dining-room table; and Florence and her 
 companion sat down to a very frugal repast, made 
 somewhat better for Delane by his drink of whisky. 
 They munched crackers and said nothing. Delane's 
 silence was becoming rather trying to Florence, al- 
 though she much preferred to have him that way 
 than in a too talkative mood. How irritating the 
 whole thing really was, she thought. A tete-a-tete 
 has such infinite possibilities but is so dreadful with 
 the wrong person. 
 
 "It was awfully good of you to bring me to town 
 in this storm," Florence said. "And I want to 
 thank you. I must say good night, though, very 
 soon." 
 
 "It isn't late," Delane remarked. 
 
 "Not very late," Florence replied, "but you must 
 remember that we have had a hard ride. I should 
 think you would be tired yourself." 
 
 "No, I am not tired. I am never tired when I 
 am with you." 
 
 There was a pause in which Delane took a few 
 more drinks from his glass. 
 
 "I wish you liked me. I wish you could feel 
 the way I do." 
 
 He got up and poured himself another glass of 
 whisky and then sat down again opposite to Flor- 
 ence.
 
 236 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "I shall have no desire to feel as you do if you 
 take any more of that moonshine bottled in bond," 
 she declared, trying to be facetious when she felt 
 decidedly otherwise. "Please don't drink any 
 more." 
 
 "Just this one," Delane answered. "Drink never 
 affects me." 
 
 There was a long silence while he sat looking at 
 Florence across the table. His gaze seemed to 
 destroy her; to absorb her whole being and make 
 her shrink within herself. The same feeling of 
 alarm came over her which she had experienced 
 when alone upstairs. She had seen cats look at 
 people the way Delane was looking at her now. 
 Florence had never liked cats; perhaps that was 
 why she did not like this man. 
 
 "I could sit here and talk to you all night," he 
 said. "I could just sit here and look at you and 
 be perfectly happy." 
 
 "Perhaps you could," Florence was quick to in- 
 terrupt; "but I think you won't." 
 
 She made a movement to leave the room, when 
 she was suddenly aware that Delane had arisen 
 and was standing directly in front of her and very 
 close. 
 
 "You talk about the lower classes; you work 
 among them," he was saying; "but why can't you 
 have a little compassion for me? Why must you 
 reckon me so out of your world that you set yourself 
 against me and torment me, and make me wild with
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 237 
 
 the thought that you are so far above me that I 
 may never have your love?" 
 
 "What you are saying is absurd," Florence an- 
 swered hastily. "I never considered you other than 
 as the friend of my brother, the man who has done 
 so much for him. I have great admiration for you, 
 but I don't love you and never can. Please don't 
 make me say this to you again and again. It will 
 make our seeing each other very hard." 
 
 "I could make you happy. What more do you 
 want?" 
 
 "A great many women ask nothing more; they 
 do not even know the meaning of love when they 
 marry. But I am not like that ; nothing could ever 
 make me want to be. Besides," she added, "I am 
 happy as I am." 
 
 "Does deep and lifelong devotion mean nothing 
 to you?" 
 
 "I can't listen to you when you talk this way." 
 
 "I will make you listen to me; I will make you 
 love me." 
 
 "Is there anything more I can get for you?" 
 she asked, not knowing what he was going to say 
 or do next and feeling that the sooner she got 
 away from him the better. 
 
 "I don't want anything " 
 
 "Then I must leave you." 
 
 "I don't want anything but you !" Delane gasped 
 hurriedly. 
 
 He took a step nearer to Florence, almost pres-
 
 238 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 sing her against the table. He was speaking very 
 quickly, with his face close to hers. 
 
 "Since knowing you, I have never wanted any- 
 thing else. I have never thought of anything else 
 or anybody but you. The image of you is in my 
 heart; your beauty haunts me and drives me mad. 
 I talked some fine language to you down there at 
 the shore last summer; but I didn't say half the 
 things I wanted to. Now you must hear me ; must 
 know what I feel." 
 
 "Mr. Delane let me go; I won't listen to you," 
 Florence said, trying to get away from him. But 
 he was holding her back against the table, and she 
 could not move. 
 
 "Last summer I didn't have the courage to tell 
 you everything," he went on. "I knew you were a 
 lady, that you were Max's sister, and I wanted to 
 be as decent as I could. But you gave no heed to 
 me; you acted as if you were frightened. Now I 
 am past fear of frightening or hurting you. I 
 only love you madly, wildly call it anything you 
 will; but hear me out. I can't go on the way I 
 have been, feeling about you as I do." 
 
 In this last there was the cry of a tortured animal, 
 of some one on the rack of suffering; and it sent a 
 cold thrill through Florence. In a flash she knew 
 the sort of situation she had to deal with, to save 
 herself from which would require all her strength. 
 How she hated and loathed the man for his brutality 
 and lack of decency. She pushed past him and
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 239 
 
 stepped out into the room. But he seized her hand 
 and drew her back. 
 
 "Look here !" she cried, "We will have no hyster- 
 ics. You have been drinking and don't know what 
 you are saying. Let me save you before you for- 
 get yourself beyond all reason." 
 
 "I want to forget," Delane continued more hur- 
 riedly. "I don't care what you think of me after 
 to-night. I only want you to know that I am dead 
 serious; that you can't turn me aside and consider 
 me a poor lovesick wretch who is the victim of 
 your beauty. Do you think that I have only been 
 flirting with you? That I have only cared for 
 you a little ? Don't you know that I have loved you 
 from the first moment I saw you, and that such 
 love as mine cannot go on forever in this blind way ? 
 Seeing you and being with you to-day have driven 
 me mad. Call it madness if you will. Love is 
 madness ; anything that consumes the very soul and 
 drives every thought away but the one thought and 
 desire for you is madness. I don't deny it. But 
 say that you will love me; that you will have me. 
 Why is one man so different from another? Why 
 can't you love me as well as some one else ? Surely 
 you are human; surely what I feel must awaken 
 something in you. What is the matter with me? 
 Tell me that." 
 
 "Let go my hand!" Florence almost screamed, 
 trying to get away from him. "I won't let you 
 say these things to me. Please have some regard
 
 240 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 for me on account of Max. What would he say if 
 he knew how you are behaving?" 
 
 She pulled away suddenly and stepped into the 
 living room, which was in total darkness. Delane 
 was quick to follow and was speaking again in a 
 husky voice, straight into her face. 
 
 "I don't care what Max thinks. He has never 
 been in love. I don't care what you think. You 
 were bound to find out some time or other. I 
 couldn't go on forever smiling and dancing attend- 
 ance on you while this thing was in my heart. 
 There are times when a person is willing to give up 
 his life for just one thing, for a kiss from the 
 woman he loves. Let me have that kiss and leave 
 you, then I shall know what it is to be happy. I 
 love you. All your scruples and all your fears 
 cannot stop that love. Tell the sun to stop shining ; 
 tell me to stop loving you ; it is all the same." 
 
 He had seized her hand again and, almost em- 
 bracing her, was drawing her over toward the fire- 
 place, where there was a faint glow from the hearth. 
 Florence made a movement as if to strike him. 
 Suddenly he seized her in his arms; and pressing 
 her down upon the sofa which was in front of the 
 fireplace, he kissed her wildly, holding her so close 
 in his embrace that she could make no effort to get 
 away and stifling every cry by the passion of his 
 kisses. 
 
 It was horrible ; horrible to Florence and horrible 
 to Delane, who knew somewhere deep in his sub- 
 conscious self that he had done the unforgivable
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 241 
 
 thing and had killed any possible regard she might 
 ever have had for him. One of those supreme mo- 
 ments when the soul is annihilated by the fire of the 
 eternal animal of which man's physical self is made. 
 What an irony there is in the fact that the heights 
 to which a great love brings the spirit can be ren- 
 dered into the very dust by the passion which springs 
 from that love. The soul through love comes to 
 dwell on a kind of higher plane of the senses, where 
 life is quickened and made more beautiful; and then, 
 a certain ultimate point having been reached, the 
 power of the flesh, which denies and destroys, hurls 
 all the perfect structure into the abyss. The prince 
 becomes a pauper; the man, a brute; and the fine 
 thoughts, a maelstrom of passion. Through the 
 soul in its development to the perfect love comes 
 the realization of the senses; and because man falls, 
 through the sensual experience comes the destruc- 
 tion of the spirit. But then from that fall and that 
 knowledge he rises again to the heights with his 
 gaze ever fixed on the stars. But Delane did not 
 know this. Like nearly all poor mortals, his gaze 
 was earthward. To the earth he had dragged and 
 debased his love, and there it must lie. 
 
 At last there was a frantic struggle on Florence's 
 part. She freed her arms, and almost hurling De- 
 lane from her, was able to get to her feet, staggering 
 and feeling that in a moment she would collapse. 
 
 "Now go, go!" she managed to say. "I never 
 want to see you again. Never come into my house ; 
 never speak to me. I hate you, I hate you!"
 
 242 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 She felt her way uncertainly across the room, 
 trying to find the door. 
 
 "What about Max? What about Greenvale?" 
 Delane asked, letting himself sink heavily on to the 
 sofa, with his head in his hand, and pushing back 
 his hair like a man dazed. 
 
 "What about your work and all your social 
 theories?" he went on, not knowing what he was 
 saying. "You are only a proud aristocrat, after all, 
 and you consider yourself disgraced because a real 
 man has made love to you." 
 
 "Love! You call that love!" Florence gasped, 
 as she braced herself against a chair by the door. 
 She thought she was going to faint. "Please go," 
 she murmured, sinking into the chair, but still 
 keeping her senses. 
 
 Delane gave no heed. "You like to think you 
 are one of the people; you like to mix with the 
 underworld to relieve the monotony of your stupid, 
 conventional life. You send prostitutes into the 
 country, thinking you can reform them by a little 
 fresh air." He laughed like a man crazy. "You 
 bring me into your wild scheme for these girls, and 
 you are nice to me because I can be of use; but all 
 the while you hate me and consider me outside your 
 circle. Oh, I know your ways. Have you ever 
 called on my sister? Have you ever asked her to 
 your home? Haven't you always felt uncomfort- 
 able when I was around, for fear I would do or 
 say the wrong thing? Well, I have done it now. 
 You know you were right, that may be some
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 243 
 
 satisfaction to you; and I know damned well I have 
 been a fool. I was an idiot to have loved you ; but, 
 good God, how could I help that!" 
 
 Florence started up again. She knew she would 
 scream if he did not leave her. She felt dizzy and 
 could hardly walk. 
 
 "Go, go ; I beg of you," she said huskily. 
 
 "Yes; I am going," Delane said, moving across 
 the room. "You have nothing to be afraid of. 
 Call me a knave, anything you like. I am out of 
 your class. To-night has settled it. Have done 
 with me ; I have shown you what I am. What does 
 your brother want of my dirty money? I have in- 
 sulted his sister. Tell him all about it, I have 
 nothing to fear from him. But I will put your 
 prostitutes out of Greenvale. I won't have a re- 
 spectable suburb frequented by people like that. I 
 have got my way to make in the world. It isn't 
 all fixed for me as yours is. You can step into 
 your slums and out again to your home in Marl- 
 borough Street; but I won't have your slum prop- 
 osition foisted upon Greenvale. You might as well 
 know that now." 
 
 He had gone as far as the door. Florence had 
 managed to drag herself into the dining room where 
 she was trying to find some brandy in the cupboard. 
 She was terrified lest she should fall senseless be- 
 fore Delane should leave the house. 
 
 Getting his hat and coat in the darkness, he finally 
 passed out into the vestibule, and Florence heard 
 the front door close behind him. She had a strange
 
 244 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 feeling then that he had not really gone. She began 
 to tremble violently, and cold chills of terror ran 
 through her. With a little cry she fell in a heap 
 on the dining-room floor. But Delane did not hear 
 that cry. He was outside, starting his motor and 
 cursing the gods that made him.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 The failure of Delane to return after presumably 
 leaving Florence at the station had caused Susan 
 some little uneasiness. Of course the storm was 
 very bad, and he might have met with a mishap; 
 but in that case she certainly would have heard of it. 
 Having expected him back within half an hour, it 
 was difficult to find an explanation for the non-ap- 
 pearance of her guest. Rothwell, who had come in 
 to steady Susan's nerves during the worst part of 
 the thunder and lightning, saw nothing unusual in 
 the situation. He said that Delane probably had 
 gone on to town with Florence. 
 
 "It is hardly likely that she would let him," Susan 
 retorted, "considering her dislike of him; and I 
 don't think any one would have attempted to motor 
 up to town in the midst of such a storm." After 
 a moment she added, "Now if you had been there, 
 things might have been different. You are a great 
 goose not to pay more definite attention to Flor- 
 ence. Where will you find a woman her equal?" 
 
 "I was thinking that the other day," Rothwell 
 said, in a very quiet sort of tone. 
 
 "Good Lord," Susan laughed. "What will just 
 thinking accomplish!" 
 
 "It is odd, though, that they did not telephone,"
 
 246 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Hubert went on, evidently wishing to change the 
 subject from a discussion of himself in his relation 
 to Mrs. Wainwright. 
 
 "I would not have answered the 'phone if they 
 had. It is very dangerous during an electrical 
 storm." 
 
 It was now late in the evening, and Rothwell was 
 just about to go back to his hotel. He realized 
 Susan's nervousness and uncertainty about her 
 friends and said he would call up Boston to see if 
 Florence had arrived home all right. About the 
 time that he was told by the local operator that all 
 the lines were down, Florence was just regaining her 
 senses, after having fainted when Delane left her. 
 
 Locking herself in her room, she managed to get 
 to bed, where she lay for hours staring vacantly into 
 the night, wondering if it were really herself who 
 had been through that terrible scene. It all seemed 
 too dreadful and too remote from anything she 
 could have imagined as happening to her. She had 
 read of such things, of brutal men attacking de- 
 fenceless women and making them succumb to their 
 passion. Of course, what had occurred was not 
 so bad as that; but her soul seemed as utterly de- 
 stroyed by the strength of Delane's embrace and the 
 madness of his kisses as it would have been if she 
 had passed through the ordeal of some more un- 
 speakable experience. She wondered if she could 
 ever forget it ; if the terror of that night would ever 
 be wiped off her mind. Terrible things have a way 
 of leaving a very deep and lasting imprint upon the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 247 
 
 soul. It is as though the tragic were written with 
 indelible ink, while the pleasant and happy episodes 
 of life are sketched lightly upon the fancy like a 
 Japanese water drawing, having all the charm and 
 elusiveness of those impressions. She seemed to 
 have grown suddenly old within a few hours. The 
 world had become very terrible to her. 
 
 It was after midnight when she tried again to 
 reach Susan over the telephone. There was no 
 reply, and she knew she must wait until morning 
 before getting in touch with the outside world. 
 "The outside world." That was the way everything 
 seemed to her now. The unexpectedness and horror 
 of the scene through which she had just passed; the 
 darkness of the house and the flickering candle 
 light against which Delane's figure had appeared so 
 large and terrifying to her, made it all like a night- 
 mare, a memory, a dream which would always 
 haunt her and which she could never share with any 
 one. Of that she was very sure. As she lay star- 
 ing into the blackness of her room, this thought had 
 been always with her, that no one could ever 
 know. 
 
 There was the outside world, the world of activ- 
 ity in her work; Max's world in relation to his 
 business and to Delane; and the smaller circle of 
 Rothwell and Susan, who at the present moment 
 seemed to play a very small part in her affairs. In 
 all her points of contact with these different spheres, 
 there never could be a hint or suggestion of what 
 had occurred between Delane and herself. She
 
 248 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 feared what Max would do if he knew. She was 
 too proud and happy in her Greenvale experiment to 
 allow that to be destroyed by Delane, if there should 
 be a falling out between him and her brother. It 
 would be her memory of this awful night against 
 all these outside interests. It would be hard, she 
 knew, to keep her secret in the face of having to 
 see Delane occasionally, as was bound to happen. 
 That he would talk and go to Max as the repu- 
 diated lover, as the man who had it on his conscience 
 that he had insulted Kendall's sister and brutally 
 forced himself upon her, was beyond any likeli- 
 hood. Florence understood him too well to fear 
 what he might do. Delane only talked when he was 
 successful; his personality seemed to have exist- 
 ence only when things went his way. He would 
 never admit defeat, either in a matter of love or of 
 business. 
 
 Florence did not know much about the details of 
 the Greenvale affairs, but she was perfectly well 
 aware that Delane held the upper hand financially. 
 Like all newly made men however, he was afraid 
 of scandal and would not be likely to throw Kendall 
 down and have it published broadcast why there 
 had been a break in their relations. On the other 
 hand, Kendall was the sort that would give up the 
 whole enterprise and ruin himself into the bargain 
 if his sister's honor were at stake. That was why 
 Florence knew she must be silent; why her secret 
 must be forever shut away from the o'utside world. 
 She must be silent to save herself, but more impor-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 249 
 
 tant a thousand times than that, to save her brother's 
 career. This was the thought which was constantly 
 in her mind. 
 
 It seemed impossible that life would ever have 
 quite the same joy for her, the same fresh outlook. 
 When Delane seized her roughly he had hurt her 
 hands, her body had been crushed; but it was her 
 spirit which really suffered. Her husband's death 
 had made her feel that life had stopped for her; 
 that she had ceased to live in a world which went 
 on just the same. But it had not made her feel 
 old. This last episode had seemed to shrink and 
 shrivel her soul, so that in the morning she was al- 
 most afraid to get up and look at herself in the 
 mirror. When the morning did come, Florence had 
 a sensation of weakness and sickness so that she was 
 not at all sure whether she would be able to go 
 about her duties for the day. 
 
 The committee meeting of her settlement house 
 was scheduled for ten o'clock. Before she started 
 for it she was able to get Susan's house over the 
 telephone and was told by the maid that Miss An- 
 derton had gone to Boston for the day. That 
 seemed very odd, Florence thought, as Susan had 
 distinctly told her she was not going to town again 
 until she packed herself off for the winter. Proba- 
 bly Delane had not gone back to the shore the night 
 before, and Susan scented trouble. At any rate, 
 she would certainly come to the house as soon as 
 she arrived in town, and Florence knew how guarded 
 she would have to be with her friend. Perhaps the
 
 250 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 committee meeting would be the best place for her, 
 both for the purpose of avoiding Susan and taking 
 her mind off herself. She got up so late that she 
 had just time to make it and went out feeling very 
 ill indeed. She hoped that when she got into the 
 fresh air and saw her associates of the Trumbull 
 Square House she would feel better. 
 
 Only a few people were there, as three ladies of 
 the committee had not been able to leave their 
 pressing summer duties to come to town to devise 
 ways and means for the winter work. After a 
 brief consultation as to the funds which would be 
 necessary for the new work to be undertaken, and 
 after going over the expenses of the preceding 
 season, Mrs. Montgomery Johnson, a lady whom 
 Florence scarcely knew, proposed that Mrs. Wain- 
 wright should prepare a paper on her activities in 
 Greenvale, as she and several of her friends had 
 heard of what Mrs. Wainwright was doing with 
 her house for "fallen girls," as she expressed it, in 
 Boston's newest suburb. 
 
 "We think it awfully interesting, but a rather 
 dangerous venture," Mrs. Johnson went on; "and 
 we would like to have a paper on the subject read 
 at our next open meeting." 
 
 "Oh, really," Florence said, from her place near 
 the center of the room, "what I am trying to do 
 with a few girls in Greenvale is entirely my own 
 personal affair and is in no way connected with the 
 Trumbull Square House work. It would be most 
 difficult for me and for all of us if it should be
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 251 
 
 considered so ; and I am sure I did not expect that 
 you would even hear of it." 
 
 She had been most careful throughout in her 
 efforts on behalf of Gracie and Tommy, that what- 
 ever she did for them should be quite apart from 
 her regular work in the slums. It was very evi- 
 dent to her, as it would be to any one, why this 
 should be necessary. The Trumbull Square House 
 was a well-known institution, and it would be most 
 hurtful if it should become a matter of common talk 
 that the House was sponsor for the sort of thing 
 which Florence had undertaken. The scope of this, 
 really so slight in so far as it had any bearing on 
 the general public, would be misinterpreted if talked 
 about and exploited. 
 
 "How many girls have you now at your house 
 in the country?" Mrs. Johnson asked. 
 
 "If you don't mind, I would rather not talk about 
 it," Florence replied. "I was able to place two un- 
 fortunate girls with an elderly woman to look after 
 them in one of my brother's flats in Greenvale. 
 That is about all there is to it; and, as you will 
 understand, that is hardly a matter about which I 
 could read a paper, even if I cared to do so." 
 
 She hoped that this rather general statement 
 would stop any further discussion of her interests 
 in Greenvale. It was odd, she thought, that any- 
 thing should have been said about it this morning, 
 especially after what Delane had thrown out the 
 night before in reference to the fate of the girls. 
 Florence had felt then that his remark was merely
 
 252 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the angry outburst of a drunken man; but she was 
 inclined to consider it more seriously, as a result 
 of Mrs. Johnson's inquiries. Florence reasoned 
 that there was really nothing Delane could do to 
 upset her plans. Susan held the lease of the flat 
 where Mrs. Potter and the girls were installed. 
 Delane could do nothing to interfere on that score. 
 That he should find some cause for complaint of 
 the girls seemed hardly likely, as Florence had every 
 reason to believe they were behaving themselves ; and 
 the longer they stayed in Greenvale, the easier it 
 would be to manage them. However, in view of 
 Delane's threat and of what Mrs. Johnson had just 
 said, she thought it might be advisable to get them 
 out of Greenvale within the next month or so and 
 place them permanently in work of some sort, as she 
 had intended doing from the first. Above all, she 
 did not wish any publicity in connection with her 
 plan for Gracie and Tommy, and the fact that it 
 was being talked about at this committee meeting 
 was decidedly distasteful to her. 
 
 The morning dragged on wejarily, with much 
 idle talk, many figures, and long pauses. There was 
 much scribbling and jotting down of notes; sugges- 
 tions made and counter-suggestions, and a some- 
 what long consultation over the debit and credit 
 columns of the books of the House. Florence had 
 not been at all well when she came into the committee 
 room; but now she was feeling positively ill and 
 knew she must get home as soon as possible. Just 
 as she was about to leave, Miss Roper, the executive
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 253 
 
 head of Trumbull Square affairs, took her aside and 
 asked if there was any truth in the statement that she 
 was running a house somewhere in the country for 
 fallen girls. 
 
 "Because," Miss Roper went on, "you know that 
 is a subject into which we are putting a great deal 
 of study, not only here but in other cities ; and if you 
 are doing anything yourself in the investigation of 
 this particular matter, we should like to have the ben- 
 efit of it. Of course this House as an organization 
 must be very careful that its name is not connected 
 with any mere experiment. This you will perceive 
 yourself; and I would like to ask you as a favor if 
 you will be very careful that nothing is known of 
 what you are doing. Your connection with our 
 work here would lead people to believe that the ven- 
 ture in Greenvale was part of our scheme in social 
 service endeavors. To deal effectively and properly 
 with the fallen girl is an extremely difficult problem; 
 and the Trumbull Square House will not be able to 
 undertake anything in that direction until the final 
 and full reports of the Chicago and New York com- 
 mittees have been made." 
 
 "I am aware of all that," Florence said, wonder- 
 ing if the stream of Miss Roper's talk would ever 
 end. It was the sort of thing she had heard so often : 
 the very thing that had made her take Gracie and 
 Tommy into the country to see what she could do for 
 them by the application of a little plain humanity. 
 She felt now, more strongly than ever, that final re- 
 ports of committees and investigation of special sub-
 
 254 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 jects went a very little way toward reforming char- 
 acter. Character was at the base of the whole mat- 
 ter, and poor relief and social service work must aim 
 to construct that as the foundation for any effort 
 they would make. 
 
 She really could not stay any longer in the over- 
 heated room; so telling Miss Roper that she would 
 act with the greatest discretion, she made her adieux 
 and started home. Florence would have liked a 
 bite of luncheon, a little air and a good walk; but she 
 felt too ill for any of these things. She found a note 
 under her door announcing that Miss Anderton 
 would return at one o'clock. This was a great re- 
 lief to her, for she was becoming somewhat alarmed 
 by her growing feeling of sickness and the thought 
 that she would be alone in the house if anything 
 happened to her. She threw herself down on her 
 bed to await Susan's arrival. When the bell finally 
 rang, Florence was hardly able to get downstairs to 
 open the door; and Susan was horrified to see her 
 friend looking so pale and haggard. 
 
 "I knew something had happened to you," was 
 the first thing she said. "Come upstairs at once 
 and let me put you to bed. Have you had anything 
 to eat; where did you get your breakfast; and why 
 couldn't I get into the house when I called this morn- 
 ing?" Susan went on rapidly. "When I did not 
 hear from you last night, and Delane telephoned 
 early this morning that he was not coming back and 
 asked me to send his bag to town by express, I de- 
 cided to put on my hat and appear on the scene at
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 255 
 
 once. I am very glad I did ; although I had no idea 
 you were ill, my dear. Tell me all about it." 
 
 "There is nothing to tell," Florence said weakly. 
 "The ride* was too much for me ; I caught cold, and 
 this morning when I really should have stayed in 
 bed, I had to go out to my committee meeting. It 
 was there I began to feel ill." 
 
 "So you motored all the way to town?" Susan 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes; it was all because of your wretched train 
 which did not run. I thought I must get here be- 
 fore Max left, and Delane said he would bring me 
 up. We had a horrible ride. I think I never was 
 so cold ; and it simply poured all the way." 
 
 "You were not dressed for it, and in an open car, 
 a very poor arrangement," Susan said in her most 
 matter-of-fact manner. "Max must have been sur- 
 prised to see you walking in out of the storm," she 
 added, after a moment. 
 
 "But Max had gone," Florence replied. 
 
 "What a pity. And Delane?" 
 
 "He went to his club for the night, I suppose." 
 
 As Susan sat holding Florence's hand, she real- 
 ized that her friend was in a high fever; and that 
 something decisive must be done at once. 
 
 "I shall fetch a doctor and a nurse," she said, 
 suddenly getting up. 
 
 "It seems rather absurd," Florence murmured. 
 'I will certainly be all right to-morrow." 
 
 'Never mind about to-morrow. Who's your 
 doctor?"
 
 256 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Our regular physician is out of town; but Otis 
 is all right, Mortimer Otis, who has just grad- 
 uated from the medical school. It will buck him up 
 a bit to have a patient." 
 
 "Then I will telephone him now and also have 
 some lunch sent in to you." 
 
 Like an old general who is called back to service 
 in an emergency, Susan was never so effectively her- 
 self as when, in a situation of difficulty, she could 
 muster and direct the forces at her command. She 
 was able to reach Otis at his house, and the young 
 physician said he would come over immediately. 
 In which case Susan thought she would not go out 
 until he arrived, not wishing to leave her patient 
 alone even for a moment. She proposed that she 
 should go downstairs and get something for Flor- 
 ence to eat ; at which Florence quickly sat up in bed 
 and said she did not want anything to eat; that the 
 mere idea of food nauseated her. 
 
 "Besides," she went on eagerly, leaning over 
 toward Susan, "there is absolutely nothing in the 
 house that you could get me." 
 
 She looked very strange and seemed excited. 
 
 "You will find in the dining room the remains 
 of what I was able to get hold of last night, a few 
 crackers and a box of sardines. I was rather hun- 
 gry. Delane came in for a moment, and we had 
 something to eat." She looked about nervously. 
 "I know there is nothing else, because I tried to find 
 something this morning." 
 
 This was really not so at all, as Florence had
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 257 
 
 hurried out of the house without even looking into 
 the rooms on the lower floor. They held an evil 
 memory for her. She would never be able to dis- 
 associate them from the blackness of that night. 
 She had thought of the disorder of the dining- 
 room table and wished to offer Susan some expla- 
 nation of it before she should see it for herself. 
 What she had quite failed to realize was that there 
 was a considerable amount of disorder in the living 
 room, unobserved by her in the darkness of the 
 night before. Also, that the bottle from which 
 Delane had so copiously imbibed was still standing 
 on the table where he had left it. 
 
 "Then I will go out and fetch some food as soon 
 as Otis gets here," Susan replied, rather dismayed 
 by her friend's sudden excitability. 
 
 "Oh, that is all right, that's all right," Florence 
 said, sinking back on her pillow. "I don't want 
 anything; the doctor will probably say that I am 
 not to have anything." 
 
 "At any rate," Susan continued, "I shall make 
 an investigation of your pantry. I am sure I can 
 at least find some tea." 
 
 "No, I can't take anything," Florence exclaimed, 
 seizing Susan's hand and detaining her. "Don't 
 leave me; don't go downstairs." And turning her 
 face away, she began to cry. 
 
 "This is very odd," Susan thought. Every mo- 
 ment she was more mystified. It was not like 
 Florence to be hysterical, to suffer from nerves. 
 She was one of the calmest people Susan had ever
 
 258 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 known. That was one of the reasons why she had 
 been so successful in her work, carried on often in 
 situations requiring the greatest nerve. Susan did 
 not know what to say. She tried to soothe and 
 comfort her friend and told her that she probably 
 would not be very sick but that she would send for 
 Max, if that would make her feel more comfortable. 
 
 "No, indeed, don't send for Max," Florence 
 almost wailed. "He would only be alarmed, and 
 he has important business to attend to in New 
 York." 
 
 "Where is he staying?" 
 
 "It's in the note, there on my table." 
 
 It was the note Max had left for his sister, and 
 which she had found that morning when she went 
 out. Susan picked it up and read that Max would 
 be at the Prince George Hotel while in New York. 
 She felt rather easier after having gained this piece 
 of information, for she certainly would send for 
 Kendall, regardless of Florence's wishes, if she 
 thought the occasion warranted it. 
 
 Shortly after this Otis came in. He made an 
 examination, found a very high temperature, indi- 
 cations of hysteria, and pronounced the case to be 
 one of threatened pneumonia. Allowing for the 
 youth of the physician, Susan interpreted this as a 
 very bad cold. She had known members of the med- 
 ical profession before who always found symptoms 
 of pneumonia and thereupon pulled their patients 
 through marvelously to recovery. However, it was
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 259 
 
 evident to any one that Florence was seriously ill; 
 and Susan made arrangements with Otis to have 
 a nurse sent in at once. She would bring her own 
 maid up from the shore to look after the house. 
 Then she slipped quietly downstairs. 
 
 As she descended to the lower hallway, she was 
 perfectly well aware that there was something more 
 behind Florence's condition than a ride to Boston 
 in the rain and a rather tiring committee meeting 
 could have caused. What that something was she 
 had no way of rinding out, at least, not for the 
 present. To see that Florence was properly taken 
 care of was her immediate object. However, as 
 she glanced down the lower hall, the dining-room 
 table as seen through the doorway arrested her at- 
 tention. The two doors into the living room were 
 closed; but she had a straight view into the room 
 beyond. The bottle of whisky and the disordered 
 remains of the luncheon were all there upon the 
 table, as they had been left the night before; but 
 now with that added effect of complete demorali- 
 zation which daylight always brings to such a scene. 
 
 Susan stopped short and then proceeded to enter 
 the room for a closer inspection. The chairs were 
 in a rather curious position, she thought; one of 
 them evidently having been pushed away hur- 
 riedly from the table, as it was facing the wall 
 with its back toward the room. Susan hit with her 
 shoe the glass stopper of the decanter which Flor- 
 ence was taking out of the cupboard just as she
 
 2<5o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 fainted. She picked it up and put it back where it 
 belonged. There were cigarette ashes strewn about 
 the table and also on the rug. Something about 
 the disorder of the place and the bottle of spirits on 
 the table made her grow suddenly cold with a curious 
 feeling of alarm. It was not the sort of scene in 
 which she could picture Florence under any con- 
 ditions. She turned and saw that the door into the 
 living room was wide open. She hurried in there. 
 
 The first thing that caught her eye was one of the 
 small chairs overturned and a book lying on the 
 floor. She moved slowly across the room and came 
 to the fireplace and sofa. Two of the sofa pillows, 
 looking very much tossed about, were on the floor; 
 the other one, still in its place, was crushed as though 
 some one had been lying on it. There were spots 
 of candle wax on the small table below the portrait 
 of Mr. Kendall. Also, cigarette ashes and more 
 spots of candle wax here and there upon the floor. 
 Susan stood in the middle of the room, utterly dis- 
 mayed. She could in no way, however remotely, 
 connect Florence with the appearance of this room 
 as she found it. What was the explanation ? Then 
 she saw a small black-leather cardcase lying on the 
 floor near the sofa. She reached down and picked 
 it up. It was Delane's. Several of his cards were 
 in it. Susan slipped it into her dress and stood a 
 moment in the midst of the general disorder, think- 
 ing. 
 
 Without speaking to her friend upstairs, she went
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 261 
 
 quickly out of the house. Hurrying to the nearest 
 hotel, she sent the following telegram: 
 
 Mr. Max Kendall, Prince George Hotel, New 
 York City. Florence ill. Not serious, but please 
 come as soon as possible. 
 
 ANDERTON.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 The next few days were busy ones for Susan. 
 She closed her cottage at the shore, brought her 
 maid up to town to run the Kendall house, and in 
 general looked out for Florence and everything 
 connected with her. Florence did not have pneu- 
 monia; but a very bad cold developed, combined 
 with attacks of hysteria which rather puzzled the 
 young Doctor Otis. Max, upon receiving Susan's 
 wire, had telephoned home late that afternoon. 
 Finding that his sister's condition was in no way 
 alarming, he said he would not return for a couple 
 of days unless it was absolutely necessary, as it 
 would take him that time to arrange his business 
 affairs in New York so that he could leave. He 
 tried to get Delane at the Boston office to see if he 
 would come over to New York to take his place; 
 but Delane could not be found. The head man at 
 the office reported he had not put in an appearance 
 for two days. It was supposed that he was at the 
 shore visiting Miss Anderton, as he had given that 
 fonvarding address for his mail. Susan had very 
 little time to think of Delane or to wonder where 
 he was. However, one or two attempts on her 
 part to get him by telephone were without result. 
 She said one morning to Florence that Delane
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 263 
 
 could not be found, to which her friend made no 
 reply. There was certainly something curious in 
 the whole business. Susan did not like mysteries 
 unless she herself could be on the inside of the mys- 
 tery. It was especially annoying at this time, when 
 she needed all her attention for the details connected 
 with Florence's illness. But things of which she 
 had only a vague knowledge always haunted her, 
 try as she would to put them out of her mind. 
 One day she interviewed Doctor Otis and asked him 
 what he thought the symptoms of hysteria in Flor- 
 ence meant. She would suddenly burst out crying ; 
 she stayed awake at night and insisted that she did 
 not wish to be left alone. Often in her sleep she 
 would moan, "Let me go, let me go," "The light, 
 the light I must have light," all of which was 
 strange and unusual for a patient suffering merely 
 from a cold. 
 
 "What do you make of it?" she said to Otis. 
 
 "I think Mrs. Wainwright has had a sudden 
 fright; has been terrified by something," he replied. 
 "It is probably some experience she has had in the 
 parts of town where she works, some man has 
 frightened her, or perhaps tried to attack her when 
 she was investigating a case. Husbands are often 
 not any too willing to have their homes invaded by 
 charitably inclined persons. Of course the cold 
 itself is nothing more than what she has often had ; 
 the sort of thing one is likely to contract in the 
 autumn." 
 
 "I am perfectly sure there is something behind it
 
 264 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 all," Susan went on. "I know certain things which 
 make me think this. I can say nothing definite to 
 you or to any one at present; but I would advise 
 you, if one may use the word advise to a doctor, to 
 treat Mrs. Wainwright primarily for hysteria and 
 let the cold take care of itself." 
 
 "It might be well to have in Doctor Randlett, the 
 nerve specialist," Otis said, after thinking a moment. 
 "I will see if he is in town." 
 
 "Your specialists are all very well," Susan re- 
 marked; "but I hardly think a specialist will be 
 able to discover the cause of this particular case." 
 
 Otis went away somewhat mystified himself and 
 thinking Miss Anderton a most extraordinary sort 
 of person. 
 
 On the third day Kendall arrived from New 
 York. Upon seeing him, Florence had the worst 
 attack of hysteria she had experienced at all. She 
 cried and begged Max not to do anything, to say 
 nothing. Inquiries as to what he should say noth- 
 ing about brought no information, and neither Ken- 
 dall nor the nurse could make out what Florence 
 was talking about. 
 
 Susan had taken possession of her old rooms in 
 the third story where she stayed when she first came 
 to Boston as Florence's guest. She was literally on 
 top of the Marlbo rough Street menage, directing the 
 servants, the nurse, and even making attempts upon 
 the doctor, as we have just seen. On the day Max 
 arrived home, she was sitting with him after dinner 
 in the living room, and she hinted to him that there
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 265 
 
 was something behind Florence's condition about 
 which they did not know. 
 
 "In my opinion, it is plainly a case of overwork," 
 Max replied. 
 
 "How can you call it overwork?" Susan asked, 
 "when your sister has had so little to do all summer. 
 Looking after her girls in Greenvale has certainly 
 not caused her much trouble, or worry either. And 
 in the summer months her duties at the settlement 
 house are very slight. The actual work there really 
 only began the day she was taken sick. It was at 
 the first committee meeting that she began to feel 
 so ill." 
 
 "I mean her exertions of the past year or so," 
 Kendall explained. "The effects of that sort of 
 thing are usually not felt at once." 
 
 "And not quite in this way," Susan put in. 
 
 "All the women to-day take too much upon them- 
 selves," Max went on. "I think that is why so 
 many men do not get married. They know that 
 they will see very little of their wives, even if they 
 decide to settle down and have a home. I am sure I 
 can see very little attraction in the thing, if your 
 wife is to spend all her time playing bridge or dash- 
 ing about doing welfare work. Very often the hus- 
 band is more of a home body than the wife." 
 
 It was quite evident that he did not regard his 
 sister's illness as anything about which to become un- 
 duly alarmed. He was the sort of person who is al- 
 ways able to reckon the result of a thing from the 
 special causes that he may have in his own mind.
 
 266 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 That of course is a very easy way to get through 
 life, but it is likely to lead to surprises. 
 
 Susan was not sure just how far she should go, 
 having so little information herself as to what took 
 place in the Kendall home on the night of the storm. 
 That something took place she was perfectly certain. 
 The rooms as she found them the following morn- 
 ing testified to this much. And then Florence had 
 admitted to her, when she was trying to explain to 
 Susan the appearance of the dining room and the 
 finding of the decanter of brandy half removed from 
 the cupboard, that she had fainted when she reached 
 home after the ride to Boston in the rain. But the 
 fainting business only furnished Susan with another 
 enigma ; for she had never known her friend to faint. 
 She remembered that even when it was her trying 
 duty to announce Jack Wainwright's death, Florence 
 had been calm and steady, with wonderful courage. 
 
 After a moment, Susan said to Kendall, "Have 
 you seen Delane since you got back ?" 
 
 "No," he said. "He was not at the office to-day; 
 but he called up from somewhere in the country." 
 
 "Did he say where he was?" 
 
 "I don't think he did. Merely said he would be in 
 to-morrow and asked to have his mail held for him." 
 
 "I suppose you did not talk with him, and that he 
 has no idea Florence is ill," Susan put in. 
 
 "How should he?" 
 
 "I was only wondering why he has not called up 
 the house to find out how Florence is feeling after 
 the rather trying journey they had together."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 267 
 
 "Journey together. What do you mean?" Max 
 asked. 
 
 "Didn't you know that he brought her up to town 
 in his motor the night of the terrible storm?" 
 
 Max made no answer. Something flashed across 
 his mind which Florence had said to him. When 
 she asked him if Delane ever talked about her, she 
 had also asked her brother if he would wish her to 
 reciprocate Delane's attentions to her. The conver- 
 sation they had a few weeks before all came back 
 vividly to him. He had never been able to under- 
 stand the query his sister made, unless it had been 
 merely to try out how far his personal regard for his 
 partner in business went, and whether his attitude 
 toward him as a friend should include a similar tone 
 in Florence. The close way in which Susan sat 
 looking at him now, and her mention of Delane and 
 his ride to town with Florence, all seemed to point 
 to the fact that she knew something which he did 
 not; that perhaps she had some information which 
 she would like to share with him, but was not at all 
 sure just how she should go about it. It is very 
 likely that the attitude of suspicion which Max had 
 always felt in respect to Susan and the feeling that 
 there was a double purpose in nearly everything she 
 said or did caused him to see something behind her 
 present remarks. The way she spoke, the way she 
 looked at him, made him slightly uneasy. 
 
 "I knew nothing of the ride," he said at last. 
 "Since my arrival to-day, I have not been able to 
 talk with Florence. She appeared so upset upon see-
 
 268 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ing me that I thought it was best for her to remain 
 perfectly quiet. The nurse merely told me that she 
 had taken a severe cold on the night of the storm." 
 
 "It seems that Florence missed her train," Susan 
 went on ; "Delane, who had taken her to the station, 
 offered to bring her all the way to town. Of course 
 she accepted because she wished to get here before 
 you left ; but it must have been a miserable ride, and 
 she is suffering for it now." 
 
 Susan wanted immensely to go on and tell Kendall 
 of the disordered rooms which she had found and 
 of what she suspected as to a scene between Florence 
 and Delane ; but she distinctly felt it her duty toward 
 her friend to say nothing of this. She felt sure Max 
 ought to know if anything unpleasant had happened 
 to his sister ; but with Florence in her present condi- 
 tion, it hardly seemed her place to say anything defi- 
 nite, even if definite facts had been at hand. That 
 was the whole trouble, that she knew nothing for 
 certain. That was why she would like to see Delane 
 and incidentally present him with the cardcase she 
 had picked up. 
 
 When Max went to the office the next morning he 
 found that Delane had arrived before him. He was 
 amazed at the appearance of his partner. He looked 
 old and worn and very tired. Although as neatly 
 dressed as ever in fact, to-day rather more care- 
 fully put together than was his custom during busi- 
 iness hours he showed all the marks of recent dissi- 
 pation. Max knew that his partner drank and more 
 heavily during the past year than he used to, as so
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 269 
 
 many moderate drinkers of the old days were going 
 in for the thing with a determination not to be frus- 
 trated by Federal laws and prohibition agents ; but he 
 had never seen him really intoxicated. His lack of 
 animation and the expression of his face explained 
 quite clearly his absence of the past few days. He 
 hardly seemed the man Max had known; and his 
 casual greeting and the way he turned immediately 
 to some papers on his desk was not at all like the old 
 genial and always high-spirited Jim. 
 
 "Any news since I have been away ?" Max asked. 
 
 "Nothing of importance," Delane replied. "I 
 have been out of town myself. Ask Benton." 
 Benton was the head man at the office now and 
 looked after the details connected with Greenvale 
 affairs. 
 
 Max took Benton into his private office and had a 
 long consultation with him. The matters in New 
 York having to do with an issue of bonds which the 
 Greenvale Holding Company was putting out had 
 to be gone over rather carefully. When he was 
 through with Benton, he found that Delane had gone 
 out and was not expected back until after luncheon. 
 This was all very queer, as on any other occasion De- 
 lane would have been eager to talk with him and dis- 
 cuss the latest developments in their business. 
 
 He seems to be avoiding me, Max thought, as he 
 picked up his hat to go out. In the hallway he ran 
 into Susan Anderton. He was rather startled when 
 he saw her, thinking she might bring bad news of 
 Florence. Susan very seldom came to his office.
 
 270 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 But her assertion that she was looking for Delane 
 put an end to his fears. 
 
 "Come out to lunch with me," Max said. "You 
 won't find Jim in there now." 
 
 "Thank you, I have had my luncheon. I will 
 wait until Delane returns," upon which Susan dis- 
 appeared into the offices at the end of the hall. 
 
 Max was now becoming disturbed in no uncertain 
 way. That Susan should seek Delane during busi- 
 ness hours, apparently having some message to give 
 or receive from him, was certainly odd. It almost 
 took his appetite away. He felt in a hurry to be 
 back to see what was going on between his partner 
 and his sister's friend. Susan was perplexed too 
 at running into Max ; for she had designed to avoid 
 him if possible by going to his office at the time he 
 probably would be out. 
 
 Several things had happened at the house since he 
 left that morning which made her visit necessary. 
 Mrs. Potter, quite upset, more talkative than ever 
 and more hopelessly bewailing her task with the 
 girls, had arrived all in a flutter and stated her 
 troubles to Susan, closeted with that lady in the 
 third-story room. Gracie had disappeared; had 
 vanished into space, as Mrs. Potter expressed it, hav- 
 ing left the Greenvale flat on the same day Florence 
 was taken sick. Mrs. Potter had tried to get Mrs. 
 Wainwright at once by telephone; but when she 
 found what the state of affairs was in the Kendall 
 home, she had delayed making known her troubles, 
 hoping that Gracie would return or Mrs. Wain-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 271 
 
 wright would soon be able to see her and advise as 
 to what she should do. But Florence did not im- 
 prove and Gracie stayed away. Then it was that 
 Mrs. Potter had taken the matter into her own 
 hands and sought Susan. She seemed to be 
 thoroughly annoyed and upset that things had hap- 
 pened just as she said she knew they would. She 
 had been certain the girls would break loose some 
 time or other and asked Miss Anderton if that had 
 not been her opinion also. 
 
 "Hardly," Susan replied; "I had sufficient faith 
 to rent the flat. Where do you think the girl is?" 
 
 "I haven't the slightest idea," Mrs. Potter said. 
 "One morning Delane called her up; at noon she 
 went out to get a little air, telling Tommy that she 
 would return immediately. She has not been seen 
 or heard from since. It is really too dreadful," the 
 poor lady wailed. "Of course, we can't say a 
 word to Mrs. Wainwright until she is better. How 
 is the dear soul getting on?" 
 
 "She is gaining, although far from well," Susan 
 answered. "But she must know nothing of this." 
 
 The connection of Delane with Gracie's disap- 
 perance was perfectly apparent to Susan, especially 
 as Max had told her the night before that his partner 
 had not been in the office for several days. Flor- 
 ence's disapproval of his attentions to Gracie and 
 Tommy also came to mind. Then it was that Susan 
 decided to seek him out; to lay her cards on the 
 table, if necessary, and see what his next play would 
 be.
 
 272 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 She had waited in the private office about half an 
 hour before he put in an appearance. He impressed 
 Susan very much as he had Max earlier in the morn- 
 ing. He was looking extremely bad; and Susan's 
 usual friendly greeting was returned in a cold man- 
 ner. Delane's "And what can I do for you, Miss 
 Anderton?" was distinctly in contrast to his former 
 style. 
 
 "I have come to do something for you," Susan 
 replied in her most cheerful way. "Here is your 
 cardcase which you may have missed." And she 
 took out of her bag the little black leather case 
 which she had found. 
 
 Delane looked utterly dismayed when he saw it 
 and rather confused. He felt in his various pockets 
 and then said, "'No, I haven't missed it. Where did 
 you find it?" 
 
 "On the floor at Mrs. Wainwright's." 
 
 "Oh, I must have dropped it when I was leaving 
 the other night," he went on. 
 
 "Certainly," Susan said. "It was over by the 
 fireplace near the sofa in the living room." 
 
 Delane looked at her very quickly and sharply; 
 then he started to laugh but almost immediately 
 became serious again. 
 
 "Thank you very much for bringing it to me," 
 he said. "But you scarcely need to have put your- 
 self to th^t trouble. I could have got it when I 
 came up to the house." 
 
 "But it is hard to tell when that will be," Susan 
 interrupted. "Florence -is very ill, you know."
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 273 
 
 If a bomb had been exploded in the room, Delane 
 could not have looked more surprised than he did 
 at this announcement. His face got very red; he 
 muttered something about "being so sorry to hear 
 it," and then became silent. 
 
 "Yes," Susan went on, "Florence caught a very- 
 bad cold the night you brought her up to town." 
 
 "So it is only a cold then," Delane said, sur- 
 prised and relieved. 
 
 "Not entirely. She is suffering from attacks of 
 hysteria which neither the doctor nor any one else 
 can explain." 
 
 "Those things are often very hard to account for," 
 Delane put in. 
 
 "Yes, very baffling," Susan replied; "for usually 
 the cause is hard to get at. Did Florence appear 
 quite all right the night you saw her?" 
 
 "Yes ; so far as I know. She was very tired, of 
 course. The ride in the open car was disagreeable; 
 about the worst storm I have struck in a long time. 
 It was rotten luck that I had'nt come down to the 
 shore in my limousine. You have not seen my 
 new Pierce, have you?" 
 
 "No, I think not. But you say Mrs. Wain- 
 wright seemed all right when you got her home?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, she was all right beyond being pretty 
 wet; but I tried to cover the distance as fast as 
 possible. We even stopped for dinner on the road 
 to avoid the worst part of the storm. But it was 
 nasty and cold all the way." 
 
 "It is so unusual for Florence to be ill ; especially
 
 274 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the way she is now," Susan said. "We can make 
 nothing of it." 
 
 "I am terribly sorry. I must send her some 
 flowers. Has she any preference?" 
 
 "I think any sort of flowers are cheering when 
 one is ill," Susan replied, showing no indication 
 of leaving. 
 
 Delane was most evidently eager that she should 
 go. He got up, went to the door, looked out into the 
 hall, and theni came back and stood near Miss 
 Anderton. 
 
 "You must excuse me if I leave you now," he said. 
 "I have rather pressing matters to attend to." 
 
 "I should think you might," Susan said, laugh- 
 ing; "when you are able to disappear into the coun- 
 try for three or four days at a time, while Max is in 
 New York." 
 
 Delane, who had started across the room, stopped 
 short and looked back at Susan. He did not like 
 the way she spoke to him; the sort of attitude she 
 was taking with him and the manner which sug- 
 gested that she knew about certain things which he 
 wished to keep dark. Her rather sarcastic remark 
 about going to the country was the last straw. 
 
 "I am sure I can go where I please without ask- 
 ing your leave," he said impatiently. 
 
 "Look here, Jim Delane," Susan interrupted. 
 "You and I are good pals at least, we always have 
 been; and it is up to you whether we continue so. 
 I don't care how often you go to the country. In 
 fact, I invited you to stay with me at the shore ; but
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 275 
 
 I would like to ask you where Gracie Linton is." 
 
 "Grade Linton?'' he managed to say at last, in a 
 surprised tone. "Oh, you mean the Gracie out at 
 Greenvale the girl in the flat." 
 
 "Yes ; the girl that was in the flat." 
 
 "Why, isn't she there now?" 
 
 If the tone Delane took were all deception, and 
 he was fencing to gain time, then Susan thought he 
 did it pretty well. But she was not to be discour- 
 aged by his assumed surprise and innocence. 
 
 "I thought that perhaps you could tell me where 
 she is," Susan said suddenly. "You can behave as 
 you please with girls of the Gracie sort, or any other 
 kind so far as I am concerned. I did not come 
 back to America to be the moral guardian of young 
 men. The lord knows there are enough people 
 doing that kind of thing. But I will not have you 
 upsetting my friend's pet scheme and all her plans 
 for those girls by kidnapping one of them." 
 
 Delane began to laugh and sat down opposite 
 Miss Anderton. 
 
 "You have great imagination," he said, after a 
 moment. 
 
 "Thank you for the compliment," Susan replied. 
 "But in some cases where facts are at hand, imagi- 
 nation is not required. For instance, chairs over- 
 turned; disorder everywhere; your cardcase on 
 the floor, and sofa pillows thrown about are rather 
 too evident to need any fancy to dress them up." 
 
 "I don't know what you are talking about," De- 
 lane said vehemently.
 
 276 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "You will know before I get through," Susan 
 went on. "You made me your confidante once. 
 There is no reason why you should not be honest 
 with me now and make a clean breast of it." 
 
 Just at that moment Max opened the door and 
 stepped into the room. He had heard Susan's last 
 remark. He looked utterly dumfounded, and came 
 up quickly between Delane and Miss Anderton. 
 
 "You two people appear very serious," he said. 
 "What is it that Jim should make a clean breast of ?" 
 
 "Miss Anderton has let her imagination run 
 wild," Delane said, trying to laugh. "Perhaps if 
 you talk with her, you can find out what she is 
 driving at. It is beyond me." 
 
 "Come into my office," Max said to Susan, as he 
 led the way out. 
 
 Closeted with him, Susan proceeded to tell what 
 had happened at Greenvale. How Gracie had dis- 
 appeared and how everything connected with it 
 pointed to Delane having a hand in the matter. 
 
 "This is very bad," Max said. "But I am sure 
 you are mistaken." 
 
 "Of course I have no proofs," Susan replied. "I 
 suppose you know that Delane has been out to see 
 the girls a great deal. That he helped them to get 
 settled in Greenvale, and ever since they have been 
 there he has often taken them to ride, has gone to the 
 'movies' with them, and, showed them one little 
 attention after another. It troubled Florence, and 
 she spoke to me about it. She said that although 
 she was glad to have a man on the horizon to keep
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 277 
 
 the girls contented, she was sorry Delane was the 
 gentleman in the trousers. She would have pre- 
 ferred Rothwell. Unfortunately Hubert has been 
 out of town; but I think he would not find much 
 amusement in dancing attendance upon the Green- 
 vale menage." 
 
 "I was wondering where he was, and why he had 
 not appeared on the scene since Florence's illness," 
 Max put in. 
 
 "Yes ; he is off now on a yachting trip with some 
 English friends of his who have been staying down 
 near me. He will be gone several weeks," Susan 
 went on to explain, "and I am sure will be terribly 
 sorry when he gets back to hear what has happened. 
 But as to Greenvale. Delane has been far too in- 
 timate with the girls. A few days ago the day 
 after the scene at your house Gracie disappeared 
 and has not been heard from since. That same day 
 Delane telephoned her early in the morning and, 
 from what Mrs. Potter was able to overhear, evi- 
 dently made an appointment with her. He van- 
 ished at the same time and has not been seen until 
 to-day. The whole thing is as simple as an arith- 
 metical problem. You know how vague he was to 
 you as to his whereabouts in the country. Mrs. 
 Potter is frightfully disturbed; and of course we can 
 say nothing to Florence. I have taken the matter 
 into my own hands. I will not stand by and see the 
 Greenvale scheme wrecked, so that when your sister 
 recovers she will find the little flat broken up and 
 her girls fallen into their old ways."
 
 278 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Max looked very serious and was silent a moment. 
 
 "You said 'the scene at my house.' What did 
 you mean by that ?" 
 
 "Oh, I meant nothing definite," Susan replied. 
 "I know nothing definite; but considering Delane's 
 infatuation for Florence and the appearance of the 
 living room on the day after he brought her up to 
 town, I have been led to suppose that there was 
 some sort of a scene between them." 
 
 Max jumped up quickly and began to pace up and 
 down the room. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that Jim ever told Florence 
 that he loved her?" 
 
 "Of course. Didn't you know that he told her 
 last summer down at my place at the time of the 
 picnic?" 
 
 "Know! How should I know ?" 
 
 "I supposed Florence had told you. Delane gave 
 me a detailed account of it. In fact, I surprised 
 them together in the middle of a scene on the beach. 
 Oh, Delane has been hard hit in the matter of Flor- 
 ence." 
 
 "I always felt there was something going on in 
 his mind about her. But this is ridiculous, absurd !" 
 Max exclaimed. "I won't have him making love to 
 my sister. And you mean that you think some- 
 thing of the same sort occurred in my house the 
 other night?" 
 
 "I am very sure that something occurred, but 
 I should say of a more vehement sort than anything 
 before," Susan retorted.
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 279 
 
 "If I thought," Max said suddenly, then stopped 
 short, glaring down at Susan. "No, I won't believe 
 it," he said at last. 
 
 He had always been a little distrustful of Susan. 
 He had never liked the way she meddled with other 
 people's affairs. Like European diplomacy, Miss 
 Anderton was rather too complicated for the simple 
 mind of Kendall. Why should he listen to her 
 now? Why should he not believe that she was 
 merely hatching up some plot to pull Delane and 
 himself apart? Perhaps she had quarrelled with 
 Delane and had a personal motive in her suspicions 
 and the story she was telling. 
 
 "I couldn't help but believe something," Susan 
 continued, when she saw that Max remained silent. 
 Then she told him just how things looked the morn- 
 ing she came to Marlborough Street. 
 
 "Let me talk with Jim," Max said, starting out 
 of the room. "I won't have such things happening, 
 if what you say is true." 
 
 "Of course I can't accuse him of anything," 
 Susan said hurriedly. "But there is certainly 
 something very queer going on. There can be no 
 doubt about that ; and I thought you ought to know, 
 especially in reference to the Greenvale matter." 
 
 Susan was alarmed for fear she had said too 
 much. She often had got herself into difficulties 
 by saying more than she intended; but the present 
 occasion seemed one when silence was not the best 
 policy, even if possible at all. If Delane were mis- 
 behaving with Gracie and had offended Florence in
 
 28o KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 any way, it was better that Max should know it 
 now than later. 
 
 "Let me talk with Jim," was all Max said, as he 
 went out.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 Delane had gone into the large office which the 
 two men used for their conferences with contrac- 
 tors and builders, and Max found him there after he 
 left Susan. He was not sure what tone he should 
 take. If what Susan said were true, then it would 
 be necessary that he should come quickly to some 
 point in the matter. It was hard for him to believe 
 Susan; yet allowing for her exaggeration, he could 
 see that certain things were going strangely and that 
 Delane's behavior was not at all what he had been 
 accustomed to. In short, he knew there was some- 
 thing which he must find out, but he little realized 
 the seriousness of the situation. 
 
 "What has that woman been telling you?" Delane 
 said, as Max came in. 
 
 "Perhaps you can guess, or know already." 
 
 "I know she is lying, if she is trying to discredit 
 me with you." 
 
 "Look here, old man," Max said, sitting down at 
 his desk; "we can't get anywhere if you are going to 
 fly off in a temper at the very first word I say." 
 
 "No one is flying off in a temper; but I won't 
 have Susan Anderton, or any other busybody, com- 
 ing down here and filling your ears with a lot of 
 rubbish."
 
 282 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "Just answer me one question," Max interrupted 
 quite calmly. 
 
 "Fire away; but I don't just see why I should be 
 put in the witness stand for you." 
 
 "Take it that way if you wish," Max said, as 
 calmly as ever; "it will make it easier for me to find 
 out what I want to know." 
 
 "Well, what do you want to find out?" 
 
 "Did you ever tell Florence that you loved her?" 
 
 "Yes, of course I did," Delane replied quickly. 
 "It was down at the shore last summer, the time 
 Susan was giving her picnic. Your sister seemed 
 to be frightened by what I said and hurried away 
 from me, saying that you should never know any- 
 thing about it. Of course, that has made it neces- 
 sary for me to keep quiet on the subject." 
 
 "Did you ever speak to her again on the matter?" 
 
 "Yes and no," Delane said, rather confused. 
 "I told her a few days ago that I felt just the same, 
 and that I hoped some time she would get to like me 
 better." 
 
 "You know that is impossible." 
 
 "I don't see why." 
 
 "Simply because she doesn't love you and never 
 could. But was that all you said?" Max went on. 
 
 "On the night I brought her up to town, I tried to 
 talk to her a little about it when we were having 
 dinner." 
 
 "Then when you got home, I suppose you went 
 into the house?" 
 
 "Yes ; I went in, for Florence asked me to have a
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 283 
 
 bite of supper. We were both cold and wet and 
 rather done up after the ride. I don't know when 
 I have been so tired." 
 
 "And you said nothing whatever that night of 
 your love for her?" 
 
 There was a dead silence. Delane looked down 
 at the floor, then out of the window. Finally he 
 said quite slowly, "No; I said nothing; there was 
 no chance to." 
 
 "Is that the -truth?" Max asked, looking at him 
 very seriously. 
 
 "See here," Delane exclaimed, jumping up from 
 his chair, "what right have you got to cross-examine 
 me in this way? If I love your sister, haven't I a 
 perfect right to? Don't you think I am as good 
 as any other man who comes along and throws him- 
 self at her feet? She wouldn't have minded a little 
 bit if Roth well had made love to her. I suppose 
 you know that she is dead gone on him. And how 
 do we know who he is, some damned English ad- 
 venturer, I suppose, trying to pick up a fortune in 
 America." 
 
 It was Kendall's turn to be excited. "I won't 
 have you talking about Florence in this way or say- 
 ing such things about one of her friends, about one 
 of my friends. But you have just the same as ad- 
 mitted that you thrust yourself upon her, that you 
 took advantage of the situation of being alone with 
 her there at night. I don't know what you said to 
 her, I don't much care ; but I feel pretty sure of the 
 sort of answer she made you. The point is that you
 
 284 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 had her at a disadvantage and took that occasion to 
 talk about your love for her." 
 
 "What if I did? Haven't I a right to love whom 
 I please; and haven't I a right to talk about it like 
 any other man? I have been crazy about Mrs. 
 Wainwright ever since the first time I saw her. 
 Nora could tell you that and of the way I talked 
 of nothing else after that night you brought me to 
 your house a year ago. And my love for her has 
 been growing all this time. Well, then, how could 
 you expect me to be with her, so near her all that 
 afternoon and evening when we rode up to town 
 together, without saying something? Who are you 
 to tell me whom I am to love and how I shall be- 
 have?" 
 
 "There is one thing I can tell you pretty definitely, 
 that when you are in my house, you have got to 
 behave like a gentleman; and if you don't, you must 
 answer to me." 
 
 "Who says I didn't behave like a gentleman?" 
 Delane went on hurriedly, losing his temper more 
 completely with every word he uttered. 
 
 "Susan and I know nothing of what actually 
 happened," Max replied. "But Susan saw the con- 
 dition of the living room the next morning; and I 
 have seen Florence in one of her attacks of hysteria, 
 and I have been told by the nurse how she cries 'Let 
 me go' and calls out your name. Does all this have 
 no bearing on the subject? Do you take me for a 
 fool?" 
 
 Delane had grown rather pale at Kendall's last
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 285 
 
 remark and stood leaning on his desk. He straight- 
 ened up suddenly. 
 
 "I tell you I won't have you meddling with my 
 affairs," he almost shouted. "I was good enough 
 for you ; my money was very convenient ; my money 
 made you. And now, because I have happened to 
 take a fancy to your sister and tell her so, as any 
 real man would do, you turn on me as though I 
 were some low-down rowdy." 
 
 Max saw how hopeless the scene between them 
 was becoming. 
 
 "Please be reasonable," he said, still holding him- 
 self in hand. "Let's talk this thing over and see 
 just where we stand." 
 
 "I don't have to talk my affairs over with you to 
 know where I stand," Delane retorted. "And I 
 think I know pretty well where you stand if my help 
 is taken away." 
 
 The threat was not lost upon Kendall, but he 
 made no answer. It was merely the frothing at 
 the mouth of a man who was very angry. 
 
 "Do you think I am going along with you in this 
 Greenvale business, if you say I have HO right to 
 approach your sister on a matter which is nearer 
 my heart than anything in the world? I have al- 
 ways loved her, I adored her. I did everything I 
 could to make her see it. I handled her with kid 
 gloves; I talked fine nonsense. I went on for 
 months before I ever said a word to her, before I 
 ever let her know that she was different to me from 
 any other girl. And then, when I had a good chance
 
 286 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 last summer, I spoke to her and told her just how 
 things stood. I swear to you that there was nothing 
 wrong in what I said or did ; but she looked at me 
 as though I were crazy, as if I were some barbarian 
 who was going to run off with her. Then we were 
 interrupted, and Florence hurried up to the house. 
 There was no other chance for a long time to say 
 anything. I thought of coming and laying the 
 whole matter before you ; but I knew that would do 
 no good. Then I hoped that perhaps Florence 
 would feel differently when she saw that my devo- 
 tion was sincere. Finally events threw us together 
 in a very close and intimate way. The ride to town ; 
 the little dinner together, and the dark house " 
 
 "When you forgot yourself," Max interrupted. 
 
 "Call it what you like," Delane said quickly. "I 
 tell you I have a right to my feelings. If you don't 
 think me good enough to make love to your sister, 
 then you are not good enough to do business with 
 me. You and Florence always act as if you were 
 not quite sure of me when we meet outside of our 
 business relations." 
 
 "That is absurd," Max put in. "You know I 
 have always been your friend and stood up for you 
 on every occasion." 
 
 "That's all very well. You admired my brains 
 and liked my business ability. You needed some 
 one like me to make the approach to the shrewd 
 men we have to deal with. You enjoyed seeing 
 my cleverness used to turn your land into dollars; 
 but the feeling of stand-offishness was there all the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 287 
 
 same. I saw it and Nora saw it. We were not 
 your kind. It was all right to use us and to have 
 certain connections with us ; but as to social equality, 
 that was an entirely different ma-tter. Why have 
 you never entertained Nora and me at your house? 
 Why have you never taken us about with you, if 
 I was the pal you said I was? It was because we 
 were different; were not of your set, and you 
 couldn't mix up your fine name with Irish million- 
 aires who were not set down in your damned Blue 
 Book. For I tell you that's what I am, a million- 
 aire; and I could buy out your interest in this 
 Greenvale scheme so quick that you would not know 
 you had turned over in your sleep. I had the mis- 
 fortune to love your sister, and I had the courage 
 to show it, to show it as any one else would have 
 done with red blood in his veins. I am not one of 
 you swells who make your proposals for marriage 
 like an invitation to dinner and then enter into 
 childless marriages." 
 
 "I won't listen to you when you speak like this," 
 Max cried. "You are talking a lot of rubbish, and 
 you don't know what you are saying." He paused 
 a moment. Then asked, "But just how do you rec- 
 oncile your affair with Gracie Linton after boast- 
 ing of all this devotion to Mrs. Wainwright?" 
 
 "Gracie Linton ! Now you're on that, are you ?" 
 Delane exclaimed. "How much longer* are you 
 going to preach morals to me and tell me what I 
 shall do and shall not do ? It is about time I turned 
 the spotlight on your private life."
 
 288 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 By this time Delane had quite lost control of him- 
 self. He was talking like an insane man. 
 
 "So Susan has been filling your ears with the 
 Gracie business. Well, what has she got on me 
 there? What proofs has she got that I have been 
 doing anything to the Linton girl ? Miss Anderton 
 makes a fine detective for you, doesn't she? She 
 had better go into the thing and not waste her pre- 
 cious time on me. Of course, if you care to have 
 people in Greenvale like those two girls she took the 
 flat for, all right; but I don't, and go they must. 
 If Gracie has flown the coop, so much the better. 
 A pretty time she must have had out there with 
 that old cackling hen of a Mrs. Potter to watch and 
 spy on her every movement. Somebody ought to 
 form a society to save the poor from the social 
 workers." 
 
 "If you had any regard for Florence," Max said, 
 "you would not talk this way; and if you consider 
 her wishes at all, you won't disturb the girls." 
 
 "What regard should I have for Florence when 
 she has turned me down, and when you go after 
 me the way you are doing? What regard should 
 I have for either of you, if you can't trust me?" 
 
 "That is just it," Max put in. "I thought I 
 could trust you. I supposed you were my pal, my 
 friend; but I see you in your true colors now. I 
 realize that what Florence said was true." 
 
 "There you are," Delane shouted. "She never 
 liked me. She was always telling you how far 
 beneath you I was and filling you with her own dis-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 289 
 
 like and distrust of me. I wonder we have got on 
 as well as we have for so long. But I am through 
 with your sister. You need have no fear of me on 
 that score. As for Gracie Linton, that is none of 
 your affair." 
 
 "So you admit it," Max exclaimed. 
 
 "I admit nothing," Delane replied. "You're a 
 fine fellow, aren't you," he went on, rather more 
 quietly, "to talk all this business of love-making to 
 me, when you have nearly reached your fortieth year 
 and are still unmarried. You probably have never 
 loved or had a girl in your life." 
 
 "We won't discuss my personal affairs," Max 
 said. 
 
 "Then we had better put the soft pedal on mine. 
 Haven't I as much right to put the lid on my affairs 
 as you have on yours? What if I do know where 
 Gracie Linton is; what if I have had a hand in the 
 matter; that's hardly anything for you to get hot 
 under the collar about." 
 
 Max could not stand there any longer and hear 
 this kind of talk. One thing was very evident; that 
 Delane had done something he was sorry for and 
 was trying to brave the thing out with all the swag- 
 ger he could command. 
 
 "I have only one more thing to say," Max re- 
 marked, as he started to go. "And that is that you 
 must get Gracie back to Greenvale at once. You 
 know where she is, I don't. It is up to you to save 
 the situation. Good-by." 
 
 He returned to Susan and told her briefly the
 
 2QO KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 outcome of his conversation. She agreed with Max 
 that Delane's angry outburst and the harsh things 
 he had said all pointed quite clearly to a guilty 
 conscience. They walked home together, trying to 
 find some way out of the tangle and worried by the 
 effect it would have upon Florence when she should 
 learn of what had happened to Gracie. 
 
 Meanwhile, Delane had hurried off in his large 
 touring car to a little hotel in the country about 
 thirty miles from Boston, where Gracie awaited him. 
 She was a very different looking person from the 
 young lady of a few weeks before. A rather copi- 
 ous supply of Delane's money had fitted her out 
 with a number of attractive gowns; her hair was 
 done with great care, and on the whole she presented 
 a very much manicured appearance. 
 
 Of course, Delane said nothing about his con- 
 versation with Max or of Florence's illness ; but 
 Gracie knew by his manner that something had dis- 
 turbed him. He was irritable and unwilling to talk 
 to her; and would not listen when she proposed go- 
 ing in town to the theatre. During the evening she 
 worried about Tommy, thinking she ought to let her 
 know where she was, send some word to her, or call 
 her up by telephone. 
 
 "Go ahead," Delane said rather brutally. "Get 
 in touch with Greenvale, if you want to; but you 
 know what the result will be. The Kendall crowd 
 will be down on us in full force if they find out 
 where you are. Please be sensible," he said, after 
 a moment. "Do just as I tell you, and everything
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 291 
 
 will be all right. Aren't you happy out here with 
 me?" 
 
 "Of course I am," Gracie said, coming over to 
 him. "Ain't I liked you ever since the day you 
 broughit Tommy the chocolates at the hospital? 
 You know Green vale was fierce. I think I prefer 
 Umber's Restaurant and a room in an attic to Mrs. 
 Potter and morality. Why, it was almost as bad 
 as it used to be at home." 
 
 Delane laughed at this and drew Gracie to him. 
 The fact that they were together in this way so 
 soon after the night at Florence's house and what 
 Delane had said then of his eternal devotion was 
 really not so strange as it seemed. He had taken a 
 great fancy to Gracie the first time he saw her at 
 the hospital after the accident to Tommy. He had 
 kept in close touch with the girls during their life 
 at the flat. He had always had some one of this 
 sort on his books; that is, until Florence had come 
 into his life. Then for a long time, on account 
 of what he thought was a really deep love for her, 
 he behaved himself pretty well, so far as women 
 were concerned. He had all those fine ideas which 
 people of his type indulge in when it seems to them 
 that a lasting love has transformed the world. He 
 lived with this thought constantly in his mind; he 
 went on with the idea that some day he would win 
 Florence. Then when all he had hoped for fell 
 flat, when in his passion he saw that he had over- 
 stepped the bounds of what a person may do, he 
 dashed off in a rage to Gracie. His appearance as
 
 292 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 something very definite in her life was not at all 
 unexpected; for he had once asked her, on one of 
 those numerous rides together, whether she did not 
 think she could be happy with him. Of course, he 
 did not mean marriage; but Gracie was hardly the 
 person who needed any explanations on that score. 
 She had answered rather merrily, "Set the time, old 
 boy, and I will do the rest." This conversation had 
 taken place soon after Susan told him how impos- 
 sible it would ever be for him to win Florence. It 
 is not at all certain, though, that he would not have 
 taken the same attitude toward Gracie if his suit 
 with Florence had been more promising. There 
 was nothing difficult or inconsistent, to his mind, in 
 reconciling the two matters. Certain people have 
 the faculties of the chameleon in the matter of the 
 affections. As things turned out, when he found 
 that Florence and her class live and breathe in a 
 different atmosphere from his own, he had flown 
 in utter desperation to the arms of the girl who 
 would give him all and more than he desired. 
 
 Gracie continued to worry about Tommy; and 
 the next morning, after Delane had gone out, she 
 telephoned to the Greenvale flat. She was able to 
 talk with Tommy and to tell her somewhat briefly 
 where she was and with whom she was living. She 
 made her swear that she would say nothing of all 
 this to Mrs. Potter. Then Tommy told her friend 
 of Mrs. Wainwright's illness, which news was re- 
 ceived quite calmly; whereupon Tommy reproved 
 Gracie for the way she had run off. She ended the
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 293 
 
 conversation by sending her regards to Jim, which 
 remark Mrs. Potter, who had transformed herself 
 just outside the door into a living statue in a listen- 
 ing attitude, overheard. 
 
 That settled the correctness of her suspicions. 
 Delane had kidnapped Gracie, just as she had sup- 
 posed. The point which the statue had not been 
 able to discover was where were they and what 
 should she do? A visit. from Miss Anderton, who 
 came out to the flat to see how things were going, 
 solved the situation rather quickly. Susan had a 
 very convincing way with people when she wished 
 to find out something. After learning from Mrs. 
 Potter that Gracie was somewhere with Delane, 
 Susan took Tommy in hand; and in the course of 
 an hour, during which time she was obliged to listen 
 to many lies and to beat about the bush in her 
 most desperate manner, she had the whole story 
 and started off for town. An interview with Max 
 followed, after which several things happened which 
 caused him to make up his mind to a quite definite 
 line of action.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 The first of these things was the appearance in 
 one of the evening newspapers of the following 
 headline : 
 
 BACK BAY LADY'S SCHEME FAILS 
 As a sub-heading came this : 
 
 FALLEN GIRLS PROVE POOR PROPOSITION 
 
 Below was a half-column account of Florence's 
 Green vale venture, telling of her interest in social 
 welfare work and what she had attempted on her 
 own account with two girls in the country. Al- 
 though no names were mentioned, the tone of the ar- 
 ticle was decidely offensive. 
 
 "One of these girls," it went on to say, "has dis- 
 appeared recently, evidently wishing to hit the high 
 spots after a period of country quiet. The lady her- 
 self, who stood sponsor for these unfortunate girls, 
 is ill and confined to her bed, unable to stand the 
 strain of seeing her pet scheme in social welfare 
 work fall to pieces. Residents of the new and 
 promising suburb of Green vale are highly indignant 
 that such a doubtful venture should have been at- 
 tempted in their midst. People with families of 
 decent lives can hardly be expected to put up with
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 295 
 
 this sort of thing. However, Mr. James Devlin 
 Delane, one of Boston's leading business men and 
 organizer, and the largest stockholder of the Green- 
 vale Holding Company, assures the residents of 
 Greenvale that the flat which housed these girls from 
 the slums will be taken over by him, and that they 
 need have no further fear that the reputation of 
 this beautiful suburb will be jeopardized by such 
 wild schemes as this of the Back Bay lady, belong- 
 ing to one of Boston's oldest families, whose faith 
 in sunshine and fresh air was rather greater than 
 her knowledge of human nature." 
 
 All that day Florence had shown decided improve- 
 ment, had begun to take an interest in things; and 
 to-night was the first time since she was taken sick 
 that she had asked for the newspaper. Of course 
 the headline about the Back Bay lady struck her 
 eye at once. She read farther, scarcely believing 
 that what she saw was true. She almost felt that 
 her mind must have become affected, and that she 
 was imagining things. But there was the cold 
 print \vith all the brutality of abbreviated state- 
 ment in which newspapers of a certain type are so 
 pleased to indulge. When the nurse came into the 
 room, she found Mrs. Wainwright pale and trem- 
 bling. She asked to see Max at once. 
 
 "It's Delane, Delane, at the bottom of this," she 
 cried, as her brother stood by her bedside. She 
 handed him the paper. "What a beast," she went 
 on. "Can't he let me alone? Hasn't he done 
 enough already? Wasn't it enough for him to
 
 296 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 have me at his mercy the other night without bring- 
 ing this new shame upon me ?" 
 
 Then she lost control of herself. She threw her- 
 self upon Max's sympathy, the only thing she had 
 to uphold her now ; and in his arms made a complete 
 confession of all that had happened. The vow she 
 made that terrible night that Max should never 
 know, that no one must ever know, went for nothing 
 in this moment of weakness and disappointment. 
 The nurse had been sent out of the room, and Flor- 
 ence told her brother everything, without trying to 
 cover up any of the details of the scene in the dark- 
 ened house. Max was so angry, felt suddenly such 
 a bitter hatred toward Delane, that he could scarcely 
 hold himself in hand until he should get at the man 
 who had so insulted his sister 1 and was now, by 
 this venomous newspaper report, dragging her name 
 through the dirt. For of course people would know 
 or find out very soon who the "Back Bay lady" was. 
 Florence had had evidence at the committee meet- 
 ing of the way in which her venture was being dis- 
 cussed. It would not take long for persons outside 
 the circle of social service work to pick up the 
 threads of her connection with the Green vale busi- 
 ness, especially as her brother was associated with 
 Delane. But to Max, all this was as nothing com- 
 pared with that unforgivable scene when Delane had 
 played the brute with Florence. 
 
 This, coming immediately after Susan's report on 
 the Greenvale situation, caused Max to decide that 
 he and Delane must separate that it would be intol-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 297 
 
 erable to continue in business with such a man as a 
 partner. The difficulty, which he could see quite 
 clearly but which had no effect upon his decision, 
 was that Delane held the upper hand, was in control 
 of the finances in Greenvale operations. Max's 
 withdrawal from the scheme might mean his ruin. 
 This was as plain as daylight to him. 
 
 When he had become associated with Delane, the 
 hundreds of acres of land which he owned were 
 encumbered with mortgages up to the last dollar 
 of their value. Delane, in order to make sure of 
 his security in going ahead with the venture, had 
 paid off these mortgages and taken over the title to 
 the land. Max was to share with him in the profits 
 which would come with the development of the 
 place. Of course, if he withdrew now, Delane 
 would buy out his interest; but this interest would 
 be a small part of what might be his should he con- 
 tinue with the Greenvale business. It was now at 
 the beginning of its prosperity. In ten years Max 
 would probably be a rich man. So his withdrawal 
 at this time, while it did not mean total financial 
 ruin, certainly did mean the blasting of his hopes of 
 success in the future, not only in relation to Green- 
 vale but from other ventures of a like nature which 
 he and Delane had proposed making together. 
 Withdrawal, however, at any odds, was the only 
 course open to Max. He would feel that he had 
 lost his very soul if he should remain associated with 
 such a man as his partner had proved himself to be. 
 With such a moral background what could Max
 
 298 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ever expect in the way of business honor or integ- 
 rity? Looking back on all their dealings together, 
 he could scarcely see how it had been possible for 
 him to go heart and soul into the venture with 
 Delane. Now that he had shown himself clearly. 
 Max could never see him in any other light. Per- 
 haps the old Kendall pride rose up within him. 
 Certainly anger and pride were combined in what 
 he felt now after hearing his sister's story and after 
 knowing the relationship which existed between 
 Delane and Gracie. It was his sense of honor, 
 which according to his standards was the very basis 
 of life, which rebelled. How necessary it often 
 was, he thought, in order to succeed in these days, 
 to trample honor under foot and not be over-scru- 
 pulous about one's soul. 
 
 He said nothing to Florence of what was in his 
 mind. He quieted her as best he could, told her he 
 would find Gracie and get her back to Greenvale, and 
 that he would do nothing rash in his treatment of 
 Delane. All of which was more easily promised 
 than carried out. He had few hopes of being able 
 to accomplish anything with the Linton girl. He 
 had never been very optimistic as to what could be 
 done with people of that sort. The results had 
 shown that he was right. But he did interview the 
 newspaper which had published the scurrilous article ; 
 and threatened action of some sort if another word 
 were said in its sheets of the home for fallen girls. 
 The editor quite frankly told him that his source 
 of information had been through a reporter who
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 299 
 
 had picked up the story and wished to make of it 
 as startling a bit of news as possible. This reporter 
 Max knew to be an acquaintance of Delane. In 
 fact, he was one of Miss Nora's young friends; and 
 the venom of the article could be traced to the 
 balked social aspirations of that young woman. 
 
 To announce to Delane that he was through with 
 him, that he was stepping out of Greenvale matters 
 and would accept any terms of withdrawal which 
 could be arranged, was the hardest part of his de- 
 cision to perform. After working constantly and 
 at close quarters with Delane for a year and a half, 
 it was no easy thing to adjust oneself to the new at- 
 titude. Max could never again have anything but 
 the most intense dislike and disgust for his former 
 associate; but he would be obliged to see him, to 
 announce his intention, and then through his lawyers 
 come to some understanding on the financial ques- 
 tions involved. This was all going to be confound- 
 edly unpleasant, as Max admitted to himself. He 
 was at a loss even how and where to begin. For 
 the present he stayed away from his office, claiming 
 Florence's illness as his excuse. 
 
 Delane made frantic attempts to get him by tele- 
 phone. Then he sent him telegrams, requesting his 
 advice on some business matter; and finally, after 
 getting no satisfaction from these messages, wrote 
 a letter in which he rather lamely apologized for 
 having lost his temper the other day and hoping 
 that Mrs. Wainwright Was recovered from her 
 recent illness.
 
 300 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 "What do you make of the man?" Max said to 
 Susan. "He seems to feel that we can go on just 
 the same after what has happened and apparently 
 has no idea that I will not forget his behavior." 
 
 "He is hard hard like so many of the men 
 to-day," Susan replied. "I tell you these great 
 business ventures undertaken by our young men, in 
 which the motto is 'the devil take the hindmost/ are 
 killing their finer feelings. America to-day fairly 
 glitters with her quickly made millions, and the ex- 
 pression behind that glitter of gold is a cold, soulless 
 stare. You have only to walk down the streets in 
 New York to see what I mean." 
 
 "I know," Max sighed. After a time he said, 
 "Perhaps I was never made for the game ; perhaps it 
 is just as well for me to get out now before I am 
 bowled over by one of the high-handed schemes 
 of such men as Delane." 
 
 "There are two worlds here," Susan went on. 
 "The old order of people like you and Florence, 
 who flatter yourselves by thinking you are modern ; 
 and the new world of the Delanes. Can they mix ; 
 can they work together? That is the question. 
 You thought you had solved it by allying yourself 
 with Delane and his great money-making scheme. 
 You have not been beaten, but you have seen that 
 you do not belong there. You had high hopes. 
 They have not failed; you only misplaced them. 
 You will have enough to live on. You need not 
 worry on that score. Florence can easily pick up 
 again the threads of her work and forget there ever 

 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 301 
 
 were two worthless girls before whom she placed 
 high ideals. It will all come right in the end." 
 
 Susan spoke hopefully; but Max was troubled. 
 He dreaded the business of his withdrawal from the 
 Greenvale Company. He knew the difficulties 
 Delane would throw in his way as to the details of 
 the thing. He was dubious about Florence's state 
 of mind when she should know that he had broken 
 with Delane, feeling, as she was bound to, that she 
 had been the cause of it all. Happily Florence 
 continued to improve every day. After the first 
 shock of knowing that her attempts for Gracie had 
 gone for nothing and that the little household in 
 Greenvale must be given up, she gained strength and 
 seemed more like herself. The fact that Max 
 shared her knowledge of Delane's conduct toward 
 her was probably the saving of the situation. With 
 him she could face anything. The nerve specialist 
 who had been called in to examine her had said at 
 the outset that something was haunting and trou- 
 bling her; that just as soon as she could be made to 
 confess or confide in some one what it was, all 
 would be well. The fatal headlines in the news- 
 paper had brought this about. 
 
 Then Rothwell returned to town from his yacht- 
 ing trip; and perhaps his appearance did more for 
 Florence in the way of a cure than anything which 
 had happened. Rothwell, on his part, was aware of 
 a certain charm and beauty of appeal which she held 
 for him quite different from anything he had felt 
 before. Not that he had ever failed to see her
 
 302 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 charm; but now her personality touched him more 
 closely. One afternoon they sat chatting together, 
 Florence propped up in a big chair in the sun and 
 Rothwell facing her as she sat framed in the bay 
 window through which the long straight street 
 ran out into the golden dusty vista of the late after- 
 noon. She seemed so helpless, so ready for the 
 least bit of encouragement and sympathy, as she 
 told him the story of Gracie's disappearance and 
 what a beast Delane had been. Naturally she made 
 no allusion to the particular scene which would 
 ever remain a secret between herself and Max. 
 
 "You see, I often wondered, when Delane was 
 seeing so much of the girls, if he were the right 
 sort of man," she said. "I tried to get help from 
 you ; but you were vague." 
 
 "But I told you what the events have proved to 
 be the truth," Hubert replied. 
 
 "You said he was an 'outsider.' ' 
 
 "Yes; one never knows what such a person will 
 do. Therefore, it is best not to take them too 
 seriously." 
 
 "It is rather like me to take people seriously. 
 Perhaps that is why I am so often disillusioned." 
 
 She went on to tell him how Susan was going 
 to Greenvale to close up the flat which she had 
 rented for the girls and would bring Mrs. Potter 
 into town to be her housekeeper. Tommy, it seems, 
 had joined Gracie somewhere; and neither of them 
 had sent any word to Mrs. Wainwright. 
 
 "There's gratitude for you," Hubert exclaimed. 
 
 \
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 303 
 
 But Florence did not care to talk longer of the 
 girls or of Greenvale. She said all that was over, 
 so far as she was concerned, and that whatever she 
 did now in connection with her welfare work would 
 be along the approved lines of the committee and 
 special reports. 
 
 "The world is still in its swaddling clothes of 
 red tape," she went on. "It is tiresome to have it 
 so; but individual effort is a difficult matter, and 
 the person you try to help is too often a poor prop- 
 osition. However, I shall always feel certain that 
 Gracie would not have run away if I had been on 
 deck at the critical moment. We won't talk of it, 
 though," she added. "It is a closed book." 
 
 No further mention of Delane was made. When 
 Rothwell left he promised to call the next day to 
 find out how the invalid was getting on. Susan had 
 told him that something quite apart from the Gracie 
 episode had happened between Florence and Delane ; 
 but with her meager knowledge of the affair she 
 could say nothing definite. He could see, however, 
 by the way Florence had spoken of Delane, that she 
 held some more bitter hatred toward him than the 
 rather sensational escapade of the Linton girl could 
 have caused by itself. So he was not very sur- 
 prised when the news came a few days later that 
 Kendall had broken with his partner and had 
 stepped out of Greenvale affairs. 
 
 Max had come in one afternoon, and finding Flor- 
 ence downstairs for the first time since her illness, 
 had taken her in his arms and drawn her into his
 
 304 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 study. There he told her that he was through with 
 Greenvale, that he had sold out his interest, and that 
 his slate was clean so far as land ventures went. 
 In short, he was out of the business ; it was no more 
 for him. Florence could not speak for a moment. 
 She felt that she must weep, perhaps at the happi- 
 ness of knowing her brother was no longer to be 
 associated with Delane ; but more especially in think- 
 ing that it was because of her that Max's brilliant 
 business career had gone smash. 
 
 "And all because of me, all because of your sis- 
 ter," she murmured. 
 
 Max held her closer. He told her how his law- 
 yers had carried out the business with Delane for 
 him. How he had been obliged to see him only 
 twice during the transactions, and how Delane had 
 settled with him for a very tidy sum which repre- 
 sented all of his claims in Greenvale at the present 
 stage of its development. 
 
 Florence heard all this without comment. Finally 
 she said, "It would have been different, wouldn't it, 
 if I had given myself to him? If I only could 
 have" 
 
 But Max stopped her words with a resounding 
 kiss. That was the last thing, he said, which she 
 must ever think of, that she must ever suggest to 
 herself. Better to have stepped out penniless into 
 the world than have her hold such thoughts. 
 
 The matter of breaking with Delane had been 
 somewhat easier than Max had anticipated; for 
 Delane had a friend, an Irishman older than himself,
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 305 
 
 who had been for several years an important factor 
 in the politics of the city, and who wished to come 
 into the company. In fact, with this man Delane 
 would be able to proceed in his schemes with a cer- 
 tain recklessness which never had been possible as 
 long as the conservative Kendall upheld the other 
 end of the partnership. Besides, what wouldn't he 
 do with politics behind him and with a brilliant mem- 
 ber of the political crew then in power as his associ- 
 ate in the Greenvale Holding Company. Somewhat 
 more dazzling vistas than ever before opened up to 
 the keen eye of Delane, and he dropped Max with 
 hard/y a regret. Max had made him through his 
 land, and he had tried to make Max through his 
 clever manipulation of that land ; but they were never 
 meant for each other, he told Kendall's lawyers, and 
 he could navigate his ship quite well without him. 
 All of which was exactly to Kendall's purpose. It 
 eliminated the possibility of law suits to recover his 
 interests, and recriminations, and no one could say 
 what intricacies of slander and mischief-making. 
 
 Something like a storm had swept over the affairs 
 of Kendall and his sister. They had been secure all 
 their lives; and in his recent business success Max 
 had felt he had caught the step of the men of his 
 generation who were doing the big things in the 
 world of finance. But now they were adrift, as 
 perhaps so many of the older order are adrift in 
 the tidal wave of modern life. What shore would 
 they make ?
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 If there is one institution more essentially Bos- 
 tonian than another, one habit more firmly fixed 
 upon the people than all the other habits and ways 
 of doing things for which the city is justly famous, 
 it is the "Pops." To the uninitiated in such matters 
 it may be said that the "Pops" are a series of con- 
 certs given during the early summer months by the 
 symphony orchestra in the hall where through the 
 winter season this same group of musicians holds 
 sway before Boston's music lovers. But the audi- 
 ence of the popular concerts in the summer is rather 
 more heterogeneous. 
 
 At one of the tables near the stage on a certain 
 evening of the spring following the autumn of inci- 
 dents which have just been narrated, there might 
 have been discovered a group of rather smartly 
 dressed people two ladies and two gentlemen. 
 Laughing and talking and paying only a slightly 
 bored attention to the music, this little party com- 
 prised! Mrs. Wainwright, her brother Max, and 
 their friends, Susan Anderton and Hubert Roth- 
 well. Susan Anderton was the hostess of this 
 group, and she was giving a party for her three 
 friends, who were sailing soon for England. 
 
 "It is tragic that you are not coming with us,"
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 307 
 
 Florence was saying in one of the intermissions, 
 when the waitresses hasten to make change and 
 collect tips for the refreshments served during the 
 evening, and the more suburban parts of the audi- 
 ence stare about to discover points of interest in 
 their neighbors. The galleries, packed to the last 
 seat, lean forward in long lines to look down 
 through the smoke at the crowd on the floor; but 
 the row of gray gods above, standing in their niches, 
 avert their gaze, knowing that what they see holds 
 none of the old joyousness of life which was upon 
 the world before their doom had overtaken them 
 to stand endlessly in museums or ornament the 
 upper portions of halls of entertainment. 
 
 "It makes me quite homesick and ready to forget 
 my uncle's millions," Susan said, in reply to her 
 friend, "when I think of you starting off without 
 me. But I shall follow later, just as soon as my 
 wretched attorneys in New York think my rights 
 are secured." 
 
 "It is hardly worth while coming into a legacy 
 if it takes a lifetime to get it," Max put in. 
 
 After a winter of indecision on the part of Max 
 and a rather long convalescence for Florence, it had 
 been decided that they would go abroad ; they would 
 stay for a time in England, visiting some friends 
 and possibly accepting Rothwell's invitation to come 
 to his place in the country. Then they were to 
 proceed, after the customary look-in on Paris, to 
 Italy, where a friend of Kendall's boyhood lived 
 at Santa Margherita. London and Paris interested
 
 3 o8 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 Max very little ; but Italy, where he had spent many 
 happy months when making the "grand tour" with 
 his father, held out a certain prospect, in anticipa- 
 tion of which he had been persuaded by Florence to 
 undertake the European trip. Rothwell, who knew 
 that he had far outstayed his time in America, was 
 going to sail with them. 
 
 Of course Susan went over to New York to see 
 them off, the next best thing, she said, to going her- 
 self. There was the usual crowd of friends to 
 wave good-by to the first big boatload of people 
 to sail that spring for Europe. The Anglo-Ameri- 
 cans who made their annual pilgrimage to England ; 
 the European enthusiasts who found everything 
 genial in life on the other side of the Atlantic; the 
 rather newly prosperous couples taking their first 
 step from their native shore who would tell you on 
 the steamer that you must see "God's country first" 
 but who apparently preferred travel in wet foreign 
 lands to journeys in search of scenery in their own 
 dry domain, all were there on the pier and hasten- 
 ing on board the big boat. 
 
 "Don't forget to send me a cable wben you 
 arrive," Susan called out, as the order for going 
 ashore passed along the decks and she was saying 
 good-by to her friends. The farewell passage with 
 Hubert was far more casual than she had expected ; 
 and she wondered if he had really transferred his 
 affections from her to her friend. 
 
 It would not be at all surprising to Susan if this 
 had happened. Certainly she had done her best to-
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 309 
 
 ward that end, however slight had been any evidence 
 which she could see as a result of her efforts. From 
 the time Hubert had returned to Boston and found 
 the Kendalls in the midst of the Delane catastrophe 
 Florence ill and Max bowled over by the sudden 
 break in his business career he had taken a new 
 and decidedly lively interest in Mrs. Wainwright. 
 All through the winter, when she had led the idle, 
 carefree life of a semi-invalid, Hubert had been 
 devoted in his attentions to her. She had never 
 seemed so attractive, so much en rapport with him. 
 Perhaps Florence's former constant labors, her 
 rather definite attitude toward people and the small 
 amount of time she could give to the essentially 
 feminine things of life, had made it impossible for 
 him to see her in her most likeable mood. At any 
 rate, from his casual interest there had developed 
 a real sympathy with her ; and he had been much at 
 the Kendalls' and had sat and talked with Florence 
 for hours at a time, when she was still unable to 
 go about. With the coming of spring, they had 
 played golf together, had motored out into the coun- 
 try in a little car which Rothwell bought and was 
 to pass over to Susan upon his departure from 
 America. A real regard and fondness for Florence 
 had come about, which perhaps was the next thing to 
 love. But Rothwell had never said anything. He 
 was not the sort to say anything until he was very 
 sure of his own feelings, and perhaps he was slower 
 in finding out what his sentiments were than are 
 most people. Susan had looked on at all this with
 
 3 io KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ever-increasing pleasure; not wholly because that 
 seemed to be happening which she had so long 
 hoped for, but because she could feel Florence's 
 happiness through it all and watch her growing 
 love for Hubert. 
 
 While the boat was steaming far out of sight 
 of land that soft spring afternoon, a girl strolled 
 into Umber's Cafe just at the dull time of day 
 which at places of this sort has in the springtime 
 more of sadness and gloom than at any other time 
 of the year. It was still light outside but inside 
 the restaurant it was all shadow and murkiness. 
 She was dressed rather more smartly than most of 
 the women who came to Umber's ; but her suit and 
 hat looked slightly shabby, and Gracie Linton, the 
 girl who wore them, looked tired and ill. Her en- 
 trance caused a mild sensation among the waitresses. 
 
 "Well, if that ain't Gracie!" one of them ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "I guess the swell guy who put up for her has 
 gone broke," another remarked, as she advanced 
 slowly to the table where Gracie had sat down. 
 
 There was no effusive welcome at seeing her back 
 in the well-known restaurant, but rather an attitude 
 of disdain that she should have had the audacity to 
 step out of her old haunts and then expect to be 
 received again on her former footing. She had al- 
 most lost caste at Umber's. Of course, certain 
 habitues of the place had known of her doings the 
 past year, had heard vaguely of her as being some- 
 where in the country and been told of her life with
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 311 
 
 Delane. The only curiosity shown now was as 
 to what had happened to her rich "gentleman 
 friend." Gracie told her story quite briefly, but 
 with the addition of several oaths as to the charac- 
 ter of said gentleman friend who, it seems, had tired 
 of her and thrown her over. It was like many 
 other events narrated at the varnished tables of 
 Umber'^. 
 
 "But where is Tommy?" the head waiter of the 
 pale face asked. 
 
 "I don't know," Gracie replied. "I guess she 
 feels too good for me. The last time I heard from 
 her was a letter I got in which she said she had gone 
 to work in a factory in a small town. That after 
 knowing Mrs. Wainwright she was through with the 
 old stuff." Gracie paused to take a sip of pale 
 half-per-cent beer. "I bet you before she has been 
 there long she will find there is plenty of sporty 
 life in the small town." 
 
 Several exclamations of surprise and disgust were 
 uttered by the little group of waitresses who stood 
 looking down at Gracie. Then they moved away 
 to attend to the various patrons who were strag- 
 gling in and taking their accustomed places amid the 
 smell of stale smoke and food and dirt. Somewhere 
 birds were probably singing in the freshness of the 
 night, and boys and girls were wandering across 
 green fields in the twilight; but there was no sign 
 of this beyond the flickering blue light in the street 
 that hovered outside the long windows of Umber's. 
 
 But far out in the starlit sea a steamer was plung-
 
 3 i2 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 ing along. People moved up and down the decks 
 in the cool evening air. Inside, groups chatted 
 while listening to the music of the orchestra; and 
 elderly gentlemen smoked and played cards in the 
 men's room and enjoyed their first drink of good 
 Scotch in many months. Florence and Max were 
 sitting together in the main saloon talking with 
 some old Boston friends of whom they had seen 
 very little during the past few years. Rothwell 
 came and sat down with them. 
 
 "Shall we go out?" he said to Florence, after a 
 time. 
 
 Florence put down a piece of knitting she was at 
 work on and followed Hubert out to the deck. 
 The night was clear ; the heaven luminous with stars. 
 They measured the length of the boat several times 
 when Hubert suggested that they go up to the top 
 deck, where they could see the stars and the sky 
 without the annoyance of the light which streamed 
 from the windows of the cabins. 
 
 On the upper deck they heard the wind singing 
 in the rigging and watched the green and red lights 
 )far ahead dip and rise with the motion of the 
 steamer. They went to the very front under the 
 bridge. Up from the steerage came the song of a 
 man, very indistinct and dreamlike as the wind car- 
 ried the voice away from them. The heads of 
 some men and women could be seen outlined faintly 
 against the sea, looking out toward the east which 
 meant home for them. The night was too cold 
 for phosphorus on the water; but the waves
 
 KENDALL'S SISTER 313 
 
 gleamed and spread out in white shimmering spray 
 as the boat plunged on. The spray was like the re- 
 flection of the stars above. 
 
 "Down there," Florence said, leaning over the 
 railing and looking into the steerage quarters, "they 
 are all thinking of home. It makes me a little 
 homesick, in spite of the fact that I am glad to go 
 away. How many of those people, I wonder, have 
 made a success in the new world." 
 
 "And do you know what I am thinking about?" 
 Hubert said, turning toward his companion. 
 
 "Of home, too, I suppose," Florence replied, a 
 little sadly. 
 
 "No; of what an idiot I have been all this past 
 year." 
 
 "Isn't it rather myself who has been the idiot?" 
 Florence broke in. 
 
 "I ought to have known," Hubert went on, "and 
 I suppose I did know somewhere deep down in my 
 heart, but was too great a fool to acknowledge it, 
 that I have been falling in love with you." 
 
 Suddenly the voice of the man singing came up 
 strong and clear from below, borne back to them 
 on a turn of the wind ; and to Florence all the world 
 seemed singing, echoed in that rising voice and 
 rushing through her heart like a great wave of hap- 
 piness. All that she had hoped for so long, all that 
 she had almost given up hoping for, came singing 
 into her soul like a melody which the sea was send- 
 ing up to her. 
 
 Just then came the sound of the ship's bells and
 
 3 i4 KENDALL'S SISTER 
 
 the call from far up in the forward mast, "All's 
 well." 
 
 "Oh, Hubert, all is well; I love you," Florence 
 was just able to murmur, as she was caught into 
 Rothwell's arms and felt his kisses upon her mouth, 
 and in those moments all the world seemed to 
 slip away and only heaven was in her vision. 
 
 Later that evening, when they were returning to 
 the ship's cabin, Hubert said, "When we reach 
 Liverpool, we must send Susan a cable telling her 
 what has happened." 
 
 "Yes; and then " Florence said. 
 
 "Then we will be married." 
 
 FINIS
 
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