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the city which harboured them; dazed with shock; unable to think clearly of yesterday or to-morrow.

“Where do they all sleep?” asked Patricia, momentarily aroused from the contemplation of her troubles.

“Heaven only knows. I have two families in tents on my back lawn, and four women who live in the kitchen. A lot of ’em don’t sleep at all, I’ll bet. Too scared. Come along!”

Some ten minutes later they halted at the gate of a large house in a residential quarter.

“Here we are!” said Buzzy, as she kicked the gate open and entered the grounds, which were neatly laid out in lawns and flower-beds. “This is where we live and have our being.”

Patricia hesitated long enough to read “WANA. Sister Tennyson,” upon the brass plate attached to the gate.

“Sister?” she asked, as she followed Buzzy.

“Very much so,” Buzzy assured her, as they mounted the steps and entered the building, the door of which was ajar. “My own private venture, Pat. I simply sailed through my exams, and then stung father for the wherewithal to start out on my own. I’d had enough of being ordered around by little bits of women whom I could have lifted in one hand. I felt an ass, trotting around like a young elephant at the command of squirrels. It was either this, or marriage. I explained that to father. A young doctor was very sweet on me then, but he was such a little fellow that I was afraid to sit on his knee lest I injured him. Dad bought me this place to save the little fellow’s life. Why is it little men run after big women, and vice versa?”

“You’ll have to excuse the crush,” she continued, not pausing for a reply, as she thrust open a white-enamelled door with her knee and revealed a comfortable cubicle of a bedroom into which an extra bed had been squeezed. “This is the camp. I’ve been crowded out of my usual quarters by the mob. This