But as tea-time neared she remembered a place that she felt absolutely called upon to visit in connection with her work: a narrow down-town street, with its hosts of children all a-dance on the gas-lighted pavement. Could she visit the crowded block alone? And was Mr. McVicar’s time up for that day before, say, ten or eleven o’clock? Certainly not. And if she paid for his time was she not entitled to his company She asked central for River o-six-three-o.
A maid’s voice answered the telephone. “Tell Mr. McVicar,” said Agatha, “that Miss Kerr will want him this evening at eight.”
“Very well, miss.”
Agatha, smiling and rosy faced, made her way tunefully up the staircase.
“What! Going out at night?” demanded Miss Connaughton, from the drawing-room.
“Of course,” said Agatha; “what have I an escort for? Oh, tra-la-la, tra-la-la,” and, singing, she disappeared.
Agatha had promised to telephone Miss Connaughton, so she rang up directly they stepped from the cars at the down-town station. “I can’t possibly get home till eleven, Auntie dear,” she announced. “It took us forty minutes to come just this far.”
“Oh, Agatha!” came back the reply. “Come home—awful news—Mr. Avery——”
“I can’t hear you,” cried Agatha. “The elevated is making such a noise. Rattle your ’phone.”