may stab us, but never the loyal friend.  Now that she thought it all over, she was glad that she had repeatedly fought the impulse to lay the matter before her sister.  She would trace this letter home first; she would find out upon what authority it was written; there would be time enough after that to confront Kate, or Warrington, or John.  Ah, if she had stepped forward in the dark, to wreck her brother’s life needlessly. ...  Heliotrope!  She would never forget that particular odor, never.  She had a good idea of justice, and she recognized the fact that any act on her part, against either Kate or Warrington, before she found the writer of the letter, would be rank injustice.  Persons can not defend themselves against anonymous letters; they can only ignore them.

She touched her horse again.  She was now in feverish haste to get home.  She took the turn of the road which presently brought her in the vicinity of the shops.  It was practically in ruins.  The courtyard walls were all down, the building itself was totally empty of ore or machinery.  Bennington had disposed of these to Pennsylvanian concerns.  Patty rode up in time to see half a dozen urchins throwing stones at the few window-panes that were still unbroken.  She dispersed them angrily, and they gathered at the side of the road, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at the picture of this avenging angel.

“How dare you throw stones at those windows?  How dare you?” she cried passionately.

After a while one of the lads found his voice.

“Why, nobody’s in it.  The man what owns it tored the insides outen it.  ‘Tain’t no harm what we’re doin’.  Hey, fellers?”

“Naw.  The cops don’t say nothin’.  An’ my old man used to work there.”

She saw that they were no more than ordinary boys to whom the panes of glass in a deserted building were legitimate prey.

“So your father was one of the strikers?” said Patty, her lips thinning.  “Why did he strike?”

“I don’t know; ’cause the others struck, I guess.  They was an English lobster workin’ without bein’ in my old man’s union.  Mebbe that was it.  Anyhow, we don’t care; the old man’s got another job.”

With this the boys climbed the fence and moved across the field, mutely rebellious, like puppies baffled in their pursuit of a cat.

Patty’s eyes, moist and shining of a sudden, roved over the grim ruins.  Sparrows were chattering on the window ledges and swallows were diving into the black mouths of the towering chimneys.  The memory of her father swelled her heart near to bursting.  She could see his iron-grey head bending over the desk; she could hear his rough but kindly voice.  Why, whenever he entered the house his splendid physical energy seemed to radiate health and cheerfulness, infecting all those about him.  She could see the men, too, moving in the glow of ruddy light; she could see again the brilliant sparks flying from under the thundering trip-hammers, the cyclopean eyes that glared up at heaven at night, the great rumbling drays, the freight moving to and from the spur.  Now there was no sound; nothing but silence, with the suggestion of a tomb.