K

To Harriet Kennedy, Sidney's sentence of thirty days' suspension came as a

blow. K. broke the news to her that evening before the time for Sidney's

arrival.

The little household was sharing in Harriet's prosperity. Katie had a

helper now, a little Austrian girl named Mimi. And Harriet had established

on the Street the innovation of after-dinner coffee. It was over the

after-dinner coffee that K. made his announcement.

"What do you mean by saying she is coming home for thirty days? Is the

child ill?"

"Not ill, although she is not quite well. The fact is, Harriet,"--for it

was "Harriet" and "K." by this time,--"there has been a sort of

semi-accident up at the hospital. It hasn't resulted seriously, but--"

Harriet put down the apostle-spoon in her hand and stared across at him.

"Then she has been suspended? What did she do? I don't believe she did

anything!"

"There was a mistake about the medicine, and she was blamed; that's all."

"She'd better come home and stay home," said Harriet shortly. "I hope it

doesn't get in the papers. This dressmaking business is a funny sort of

thing. One word against you or any of your family, and the crowd's off

somewhere else."

"There's nothing against Sidney," K. reminded her. "Nothing in the world.

I saw the superintendent myself this afternoon. It seems it's a mere

matter of discipline. Somebody made a mistake, and they cannot let such a

thing go by. But he believes, as I do, that it was not Sidney."

However Harriet had hardened herself against the girl's arrival, all she

had meant to say fled when she saw Sidney's circled eyes and pathetic

mouth.

"You child!" she said. "You poor little girl!" And took her corseted

bosom.

For the time at least, Sidney's world had gone to pieces about her. All

her brave vaunt of service faded before her disgrace.

When Christine would have seen her, she kept her door locked and asked for

just that one evening alone. But after Harriet had retired, and Mimi, the

Austrian, had crept out to the corner to mail a letter back to Gratz,

Sidney unbolted her door and listened in the little upper hall. Harriet,

her head in a towel, her face carefully cold-creamed, had gone to bed; but

K.'s light, as usual, was shining over the transom. Sidney tiptoed to the

door.

"K.!"

Almost immediately he opened the door.

"May I come in and talk to you?"