Laura Mae took a cool, refreshing bath, powdered her face then rubbed on just enough rouge to hide the paleness in her cheeks. She put on the pretty afternoon frock Gene had bought for her. Appearance, she knew, might mean much in winning the approval of Mrs. Chatterton. She called a cab and gave the address, "8103 Colonial Heights." She imagined the look the driver gave her said, "What takes a common girl like you into the wealthy section of the city?" He started the car and it was no time until it had woven its way through the line of traffic until it was in the wealthy residential section, where it stopped in front of an elegant home, that was built in Colonial style. The lawns and shrubbery were beautiful even with winter so close upon them. Laura Mae stepped from the cab and paid the driver, telling him that he need not wait. She was sure that she could find her way back to the business section and from there she knew the way back to her room.

She pressed the doorbell with a trembling hand, then gave her name to the butler, as she had given it at the rooming house, "May Elison, a friend of June Malcolm's." There was nothing sure about this place becoming her home and she was not yet ready to let it be known that she was the wife of Eugene Whitmer, homeless and alone in a city of strangers. She was shown into a spacious room; the whole place answered her mental impression of a palace. The butler announced her and soon Mrs. Chatterton entered the room, approaching the girl with a smile that bid her, "Welcome." Mrs. Chatterton was a lovely lady with natural dignity and poise. Her hair was streaked with silvery gray which only helped to soften the lines of her kind, motherly face.

"Ae you the friend of June Malcolm, whom she said she was sending to see me?" Emily Chatterton asked in a musical voice.

"Yes, Mrs. Chatterton, I am. Here is the letter of which she spoke." Laura Mae handed the note to the charming lady.

"Won't you sit down?" she asked with a pleasant smile as she offered the girl a place on the divan. Laura Mae accepted the place graciously; she was weak and tired and half afraid, it was easier for her to regain composure when she was seated. June's aunt took a chair opposite her and she watched the lady read the letter through then saw her glance back over it a second time before she looked up.

"Your name is Laura Mae?" she asked.

"Just call me May, please," came the short reply.

"Very well, it shall be May, then. You used to be a Porter girl from Oakdale before you were married, Mrs. Elison?"

"Why, yes," the girl flushed at being addressed as Mrs. Elison. "My sister and June are very close friends." She could not help but feel at home already in the presence of one so kind.

"Will you tell me about yourself?" Mrs. Chatterton suggested.

"There is not much to tell. I graduated from high school and have had two years of business training after that. There was a boy I had learned to love from the time we were just young children in school," the girl began, "Father did not like me to go with him because there was another young fellow there that he liked so well; he wanted me to go with him, but I just could not learn to like him. When the United States entered the war, the fellow Father liked was exempt. I knew he would be after me all the time, so my lover and I were secretly married before he went into the army, it was my only defense against the other fellow. Father has kept my husband's letters away from me, so I have not heard from him since he went—I don't know where... he is." She choked and tried hard to hold back the tears.

"I see," Mrs. Chatterton said in a soothing voice. "What happened then, did your folks find out about marriage?"

"Yes, Father was so disappointed in me that I could not stay there any longer. I hoped to find work here in Kingsford." That was all that she felt was necessary to tell to a stranger.

"Perhaps it would have been best if you had not made your marriage secretly, but of course, it is too late to think of that now, isn't it?" Mrs. Chatterton had surveyed the girl from head to foot and had concluded in her own mind that the girl was very beautiful, a type that would take well in her social circles. She noted the soft brown eyes, the curly golden-brown hair, the perfect skin on her face and throat, the petal-like hands with well-groomed nails, and even the shapely ankles attracted her attention. What more could she ask for in natural beauty? The dress she wore showed very good taste, too. June had said that she was clean, honest, and talented. After she had measured the girl with critical eyes, she spoke again.

"Do you think you would like to live with me for a while, as a guest, being a close friend of June Malcolm's? We can try it out for a while and see how we get along."

"You are so kind to me, I had not dared to dream of anything so nice, but how would I pay you? Have you work for me to do here in the house?"

"Pay me?" Mrs. Chatterton smiled. "You do not understand my proposition. I was ready to advertise for a companion. Your work will be to keep me company. To go with me to the theaters and the places with me where my son, John used to escort me, I feel so alone without him." It was the older woman who fought back he tears, now, when she thought about her soldier boy somewhere in France, risking his life, fighting for his country. He had always been so near to her since her husband's death. He had gone to college and had taken up civil engineering. He had always said that he would be a self-made man, regardless of the large sums of money his father had left for him to use. The mother was proud of him!

"That is his picture," she said to Laura Mae, as she pointed, to a framed photo on the mantel.

"He is handsome," the girl said aloud, then she thought to herself, "But he is not as handsome as Gene." A pain struck her heart. If she could only hear from him and know that he was safe.

Mrs. Chatterton sat silently thinking for a time, her face grew graver. "Now, concerning the unborn child that is to come," she began, blushing slightly, for it was a sensitive topic for discussion, "I have often threatened to adopt a baby girl to raise, but I have kept putting it off. If your baby is a girl, I won't want you to let it know that you are any more than a nurse-maid, until your husband comes back and claims both of you. If he does not come within two years after the close of the war, the child is to become joint heir to the estate and share its profits with my son, Joh. I will buy all of its clothes and pay all of the doctor bills and so forth."

Laura Mae was sure that if Gene lived through the war that he would come back to her as soon as it was over and he was released from service. She needed a home and protection for her baby, then perhaps it would be a boy and Mrs. Chatterton would not want it, after all, she was sure the woman would be fair with her, so she agreed to all that was requested. After a moment's thought, she asked, "May I have the right to name my baby?"

"Yes, perhaps we could plan a name together," she smiled reassuringly. "Are you ready to come today to stay with me?"

"My clothes are in my room over in town, I could soon pack them." She still had a right to her room for two more days, as she had paid for two weeks in advance. Mrs. McFarlin had been so nice to her all the time, that she decided that she would not ask for a refund.

"I will send for Carlos, my chauffeur, to take you to your room to get your things and bring you back," the lady said, then rang a bell and gave the order for the car to be brought out.

Laura Mae's heart fluttered within her breast. It was all like a dream; she was not used to such kindness from any woman but her own darling mother. She was afraid someone would call her or that something would fall from its place and wake her up to reality again, then she would have to continue to search desperately for a job or else go and impose upon her father's sister in Denver.

She stepped into a shining limousine and soon it was gliding down from Colonial Heights into the heart of the city. She directed the driver to Mrs. McFarlin's rooming house. There she gathered her belongings and packed them When she had finished, she went down the long dark hallway and rang the bell that called the landlady to the door of her apartment.

"Mrs. McFarlin," she said with a happy, radiant smile that the Irish woman had never seen on the girl's face before. "I have found a place."

"Ye have?" the fat, jolly woman was all excited. "Good for you, lass, shor'n I been tellin' ye would. When do ye start work?"

"Now, today, I just came to get my things."

"Shore'n Oi'll be missin' of ye here. What kind of work did ye find?"

"I will be a sort of maid in a nice home."

"Faith, 'n you're lucky! Now, let's see... Ye have two days rint comin' back to you."

"That's all right, Mrs. McFarlin, I do not want it back. I appreciate all of the kindness you have shown to me."

"Shore'n Oi thank ye from the bottom of my heart and Oi want ye to come and see me sometime and if ye ever need a friend, Oi'll be here waitin' for you with me arms wide open." She was smiling and the girl knew that she meant every word that she had said.

"Thank you, I will remember you. There is a car waiting for me out in front so I will have to go now. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, me dear," Mrs. McFarlin answered as the girl went back up to the hallway.

Only a few minutes passed until she was back again in the home that was a beautiful palace to her. A maid named Celia took her suitcase upstairs and showed Laura Mae her room. The farm girl stood amazed at the sight of it. She had never dreamed that a bedroom could be so cozy and pretty! It was even prettier than the room in the Hotel Elite where she and Gene had spent their wedding night. The color scheme was cream and rose with touches of orchid worked into it. She compared it to her plain bedroom at home with its white scrim curtains and the brass bed, then she thought of the faded cretonne curtains and squeaking springs in the bed at Mrs. McFarlin's house. Adjoining her room was a private bathroom, with its glistening white tub and wash bowl. The only times in her life that she had access to a real bathtub with running water was in Placerville, where she attended business college and at Mrs. McFarlin's. It would be a great treat for her.

Celia gave a few touches to the room then asked if there was anything the madam wished her to do now.

"Thanks, you may go now," she said to Celia, who made a curtsey and left the room. Laura Mae tried to subdue the emotions that were surging within her. She picked up one of the pretty boudoir pillows and hugged it to her awhile, she danced about the room in glee. Suddenly, the tears began to flow and she threw herself across the bed and cried in the pretty pillow until her whole body shook. It had all come about in such a short time; she could hardly realize what had happened. She had her cry out and had unpacked most of her things, finding a place for everything, before word was sent up to her that dinner would be served at six-thirty. Laura Mae dressed for dinner as her aunt had taught her to do in Denver and Mrs. Chatterton met her at the foot of the stairs before dinner time. The lady showed her about the house, they visited the library, the conservatory, the terrace, and flower gardens and tried to impress upon the girl that she wanted her to feel at home.

At the dinner table, Laura Mae's knowledge of formal table etiquette that she had learned in her Domestic Science class in high school, came vividly to the front of her memory and she did exactly the right thing at the right time, throughout the meal; her hostess noticed this and was pleased.

After dinner, two ladies from the next beautiful house down the street called on Mrs. Chatterton. It was Mrs. Randall and her mother. Mrs. Randall's husband had joined the navy early in the summer and her mother had come to spend the winter with her. Laura Mae, shy, but beaming with happiness that made her even more beautiful, was introduced to them as Mrs. May Elison, a dear friend of her sister's daughter. The false name hurt the girl's conscience, she wanted to explain to them that it was the wrong name. It was the first lie she had told in all her life, but Gene's name meant so much to her that she would do anything rather than disgrace it. She suddenly felt weak and queer so she asked Mrs. Chatterton to excuse her; she wanted to write a letter to her mother.

In her room, she rested for a few minutes then she took out her writing tablet and wrote the letter that she had been wanting to write for so long, for now, she could tell her mother that she was safe and had an ideal job. She described her search for work, her meeting with June Malcolm, the lovely home of June's aunt where she had been asked to stay. She wrote, "I am feeling fine, Mother, so please do not worry about me. Will you get Gene's last address from Uncle Everett for me and I will try and reach him again.

"Address my letter to Laura Mae Porter, 8103 Colonial Heights, Kingsford. And please write to me soon! With loads of lover, Laura Mae."

Mrs. Chatterton wrote a letter to John after her guests had said goodnight, so the next morning, the two letters were mailed together. Little did they think that John's letter would be read by Laura Mae's young husband.