If she thought of the coat through the day, there was no sign of it in her face. She went about her work with busy, preoccupied look. She did the dishes, and dusted and made beds and went to market; and after luncheon, which she had by herself on the porch, she lay down, a little while, watching the streaks of light that came through the blind-slats and fell across the matting, and almost reached to the bed... and when she saw them again, they were lying along the pillow close to her—and it was five o’clock.

She sprang up with a little exclamation and hurried to the kitchen.

But, after all, Richard was late, and everything was ready when he came.

He cast a happy look about the room,

“Nice home!” he said.

She smiled and set the dinner on the table.

“You were late.”

“Well, rather! It’s been a great day—” He looked at her thoughtfully across the table, and took up the carving-knife and tested it gently on his thumb. “Martin came in—about the lot, next door!”

She glanced quickly at him. “What did he say?”

“Said he’s ready—to sell.”

They were both silent.

Presently she gave a little sigh. “Well, of course we can’t—But it’s too bad!”

He looked at her, smiling. “That’s the queer thing! It’s just possible——”

“What do you mean?”

“Well—I’d been looking things over—about your Chinese coat, you know——”

“Oh-h!” Her glance held his.

He nodded. “I’d made up my mind to get it for you—if it took our last

“But I told you—”

He held up a hand. “And I’d just figured out how I could do it—when Martin came in and offered the lot for three hundred—fifty dollars down.”

Her eyes were on his face.

“Of course, yesterday, or day before, I should have said—we couldn’t do it.... But there was the money—in my hand, practically.”

“Did you give it to him?” She leaned forward, a little breathless.

He looked at her. “Do you think I did?”

“Why—I—don’t know.”

He got up and came over to her and bent down. “It is your Chinese coat!” he said. “You didn’t suppose I was going to mortgage your possessions—without letting you know!”

“You mean I can have it—the coat!” She had clasped her hands—she was gazing at something far beyond him—far beyond the room, it seemed.

He watched her face a minute. “You sure can have your coat—if you want it!” he said softly.

She drew a long breath and the light ran back into her face, flooding it.

“Oh—!” She threw out her hands. “I don’t want it!—I just wanted to be sure I could want it—if I wanted to!”

“I know.” He looked down at her with quiet understanding.

“So it is the lot?” he said.

“Of course it is the lot! Go and eat your dinner, silly boy!”

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