But one morning, Starr, coming into the library where Michael was telephoning Hester about some last purchases she was making, overheard these words: "All right Hester, you'll know best of course, but I think you better make it a dozen instead of a half. It's better to have too many than too few; and we might have company, you know."

Now, of course, Starr couldn't possibly be supposed to know that it was a question of dishes that was being discussed so intimately. In fact, she did not stop to think what they were talking about; she only knew that he had called this other girl "Hester"; and she suddenly became aware that during all these weeks of pleasant intercourse, although she had addressed him as Michael, he had carefully avoided using any name at all for her, except on one or two occasions, substituting pronouns wherever possible. She had not noticed this before, but when she heard that "Hester" in his pleasant tones, her heart, brought the fact before her at once for invoice. Who was this girl Hester? And why was she Hestered so carelessly as though he had a right? Could it be possible that Michael was engaged to her? Why had she never thought of it before? Of course it would be perfectly natural. This other girl had been down in his dear alley, working shoulder to shoulder with him all these years, and it was a matter of course that he must love her, Starr's bright morning that but a moment before had been filled with so much sunshine seemed suddenly to cloud over with a blackness that blotted out all the joy; and though she strove to hide it even from herself, her spirit was heavy with something she did not understand.