Then Mrs. Latz spied her daughter, greeting her without surprise or any particular recognition.

“Thought you could fool me!  Heh, Louis?  I mean Alma.”

“Mamma, it’s Alma.  It’s all right.  Don’t you remember, we had this appointment?  Come, dear.”

“No, you don’t!  That’s a man following.  Shh-h-h-h, Louis!  I was fooling.  I went up to him in the clinic” (snicker) “and I said to him, ’Give you five dollars for a doctor’s certificate.’  That’s all I said to him, or any of them.  He’s in a white carnation, Louis.  You can find him by the—­it on his coat lapel.  He’s coming!  Quick—­”

“Mamma, there’s no one following.  Wait, I’ll call a taxi!”

“No, you don’t!  He tried to put me in a taxi, too.  No, you don’t!”

“Then the Subway, dearest.  You’ll sit quietly beside Alma in the Subway, won’t you, Carrie?  Alma’s so tired.”

Suddenly Carrie began to whimper.

“My baby!  Don’t let her see me.  My baby!  What am I good for?  I’ve ruined her life.  My precious sweetheart’s life.  I hit her once—­Louis—­in the mouth.  It bled.  God won’t forgive me for that.”

“Yes, He will, dear, if you come.”

“It bled.  Alma, tell him in the white carnation that mamma lost her doctor’s certificate.  That’s all I said to him.  Saw him in the clinic—­new clinic—­’give you five dollars for a doctor’s certificate.’  He had a white carnation—­right lapel.  Stingy.  Quick!—­following!”

“Sweetheart, please, there’s no one coming.”

“Don’t tell!  Oh, Alma darling—­mamma’s ruined your life!  Her sweetheart baby’s life.”

“No, darling, you haven’t.  She loves you if you’ll come home with her, dear, to bed, before Louis gets home and—­”

“No.  No.  He mustn’t see.  Never this bad—­was I, darling?  Oh!  Oh!”

“No, mamma—­never—­this bad.  That’s why we must hurry.”

“Best man that ever lived.  Best baby.  Ruin.  Ruin.”

“Mamma, you—­you’re making Alma tremble so that she can scarcely walk if you drag her so.  There’s no one following, dear.  I won’t let anyone harm you.  Please, sweetheart—­a taxicab.”

“No.  I tell you he’s following.  He tried to put me into a taxicab.  Followed me.  Said he knew me.”

“Then, mamma, listen.  Do you hear?  Alma wants you to listen.  If you don’t—­she’ll faint.  People are looking.  Now I want you to turn square around and look.  No, look again.  You see now, there’s no one following.  Now I want you to cross the street over there to the Subway.  Just with Alma who loves you.  There’s nobody following.  Just with Alma who loves you.”

And then Carrie, whose lace hat was quite on the back of her head, relaxed enough so that through the enormous maze of the traffic of trucks and the heavier drags of the lower city, her daughter could wind their way.

“My baby!  My poor Louis!” she kept saying.  “The worst I’ve ever been.  Oh—­Alma—­Louis—­waiting—­before we get there—­Louis!”