But what was taking place—over there?
At ten minutes before five Betty reached home. Her mother met her halfway down the stairs.
"Oh, Betty, you—you are here!" she panted. "Now, tell me everything—every single thing," she reiterated, almost dragging the girl into the apartment, in her haste and excitement. "Don't skip anything—not the least little thing; for a little thing might mean so much—to me."
"Why, mother!" exclaimed Betty, her laughing eyes growing vaguely troubled. "Do you really care so much?"
With a sudden tightening of the throat Helen pulled herself up sharply. She gave a light laugh.
"Care? Of course I care! Don't you suppose I want to know what my baby has been doing all the long day away from me? Now, tell me. Sit right down and tell me from the beginning."
"All right, I will," smiled Betty. To herself she said: "Poor mother! As if I wouldn't work my fingers off before I'd fail her, when she cares so much—when she needs so much—what I earn!" Then, aloud, cheerily, she began:—
"SO I RANG THE BELL."