miration such as a small act of large signifi- cance may sometimes stir in one who apprehends.

Two days later Burns, starting toward home in the Imp at a late hour in the morning, passed a figure on a corner of a city street waiting for the outward-bound trolley. He slowed down beside it.

“May I take you home?” he asked, cap in hand, and interest showing in eyes which a moment before had been heavy with fatigue.

Ellen Lessing looked up. “I shall be very glad," she answered, as she met his outstretched hand and let it draw her upward to the vacant seat. “The car is always so full at this hour, and I was longing for the feeling of the wind against my face.”

“It’s cool for late August, and you’ll get a breeze on the road home that will refresh you. You haven’t touched water or milk in this plague- stricken district, I hope?’

“No, indeed. Martha warned me a dozen times before I left. How are things? Any better?” _

“No new cases in twenty-four hours, and the old ones well in hand. I’m getting home earlier to-day than I’ve done for a month, and hope to