Jewel Weed

A full month slipped away after the little excursion down the river

before Dick saw Lena Quincy again. In fact he had almost forgotten her.

That day, if it was recalled at all, was chiefly memorable because it

marked a change in his attitude toward his chosen occupation. It seemed

that revelation after revelation poured upon him. The intricate threads

of city politics fascinated him more and more as he began to understand

whence they led and whither.

But one day on the street Dick met and passed Lena. She gave him a

little bow--wistful, it seemed to him, and she looked tired and thin.

His conscience smote him. He had really meant to do a common kindly

thing to cheer this girl, but it had slipped his mind. That night he

hunted up her address in his note-book and found his way to the dismal

lodging-house.

Four cheap-looking young persons were loitering in the parlor, two were

drumming on a piano that was out of tune, and the room smelled fusty.

The assembled group giggled and disappeared upon his entrance, and Lena,

when she came down the stairs, flushing with embarrassment and pleasure,

looked as much out of place as he felt. He stood before her, hat in

hand. It would be impossible to talk to her in such a room.

"Miss Quincy," he said, "it is such a perfect night that it is neither

more nor less than self-torture to stay indoors. Can't you be a bit

unconventional and go out with me to the band concert in the park?" He

remembered that she went about with the oaf.

Lena hesitated. She realized that this call was a crucial affair to her,

though his long delay in coming proved it to be a casual matter to Mr.

Percival. She must make no mistake. In her instant's hesitation, while

her soft eyes were looking inquiringly into his face, she had an

inspiration.

"I should love it, Mr. Percival," she said with that little air of

reserve that set her apart. "But don't you see, I--I--can't go with

you--until--until you know my mother and unless she approves."

"Of course," said Dick, quite unconscious of Lena's play-acting.

Lena turned and twisted a bit of worn blue plush trimming on the shelf

over the gas-log before she showed him a blushing face.

"The only thing I can do is to ask you to come up stairs and meet

mother. She can hardly move about enough to come down."

She led the way with anxiety in her heart as to how her mother would

behave. Would she show irritable astonishment if Lena treated her with

gentle deference, and asked her permission to be out in the evening with

a strange young man? But Mrs. Quincy knew a thing or two as well as her

daughter, and Dick saw only that the room was very ugly, that Lena moved

about with lips compressed and voice gentle and full of tender

consideration, to make her mother as comfortable as possible before she

went away.