"Oh, poor Alice!" she moaned, clinging to her daughter's hand.

"Oh, poor, POOR Alice to have THIS come on the night of your dinner--just when everything seemed to be going so well--at last--oh, poor, poor, POOR----" "Hush!" Alice said, sharply.

"Don't say 'poor Alice!' I'm all right." "You MUST be!" her mother cried, clutching her.

"You've just GOT to be! ONE of us has got to be all right--surely God wouldn't mind just ONE of us being all right--that wouldn't hurt Him----" "Hush, hush, mother! Hush!" But Mrs.Adams only clutched her the more tightly.

"He seemed SUCH a nice young man, dearie! He may not see this in the paper--Mr.Lohr said it was just a little bit of an item--he MAY not see it, dearie----" Then her anguish went back to Walter again; and to his needs as a fugitive--she had meant to repair his underwear, but had postponed doing so, and her neglect now appeared to be a detail as lamentable as the calamity itself.