“Keep step, Nannie.” John, amused by the shortness of her stride, admonished her gaily. Mrs. Merwent looked up at him and they both laughed.
“You have to work so hard, yet no matter how tired you are you are so cheerful, John,” she said. “It ought to make Lucy and me ashamed of ourselves.”
“What’s the matter with you and Lucy?” John asked, the cheerful note dying out of his voice. Nannie gave him a quick side look.
“Why, nothing, John, except that Lucy is upset by her day, I suppose. She’s irritable now and then, you know, but I certainly don’t hold it against her.”
There was silence for a moment.
“John,” Nannie continued diffidently, “Lucy misunderstands so many things—I’ve been wanting to ask you a favor and I didn’t dare do it!”
John glanced down at her.
“I’m not afraid of Lucy if you are, Nannie,” he protested, smiling, but with his brows still fretfully corrugated.
“I want you to cash a check for me. It—it—Professor Walsh was the only person I could go to for help, John, and he has been kind enough to take charge of my financial affairs. I know so little of such things. The check is from him,” she finished apologetically.
“I don’t see why you have to depend on Professor Walsh while I’m here!” John answered, dropping her arm.
“But remember, John, I didn’t know until I got here—” She stopped speaking, then added, “it is hard not to treasure it up against Lucy when I think how long her siding with her father against me kept us from knowing each other, John.”
John did not reply at once.
“I understand, Nannie,” he said after a minute.
“Here is the check. It’s already endorsed. I knew you would realize in what a position I was placed—without a person in the world to call on!” Mrs. Merwent’s voice broke.
John took the check and put it in his inside pocket.
“Lucy is not as charitable as she might be, John,” Nannie sighed, taking his arm again.
They walked on in silence.
“I wish Professor Walsh would choke!” John ejaculated in a savage undertone, as they entered the gate at their destination.
Nannie laughed and pressed his arm.
“You are a dear boy, John,” she whispered.
Lucy heard them come in laughing and talking. Dimmie did not run to meet them.
“Is dinner ready?” John called as they entered the dining room.
“No,” responded Lucy.
“Whew!” he exclaimed with mock chagrin. “Got a grouch on, Lucy?”
Busied in placing on the table those of the dishes which she had washed to use for the evening meal, she did not reply. Dimmie appeared behind his mother.
“Hello, son! You sore too? Why didn’t you come with Nannie to meet me?” John inquired breezily.
“I did want to,” acknowledged Dimmie, “but Nannie said I couldn’t.”
“Why, Jimmie!” Mrs. Merwent cried. “What an awful story!” She turned to John. “Did you ever see such a child! Lucy had changed his clothes after the ladies left and I only said to him that his mother was too tired to change him again just to go out for a few moments.”
“What do you mean by telling an untruth, Dimmie?” demanded John.
Dimmie began to cry. Lucy took the child’s hand.
“I don’t see any untruthfulness,” she contended. “Mamma didn’t want him and her exact wording doesn’t matter.”
“Why, Lucy,” said John reproachfully, “you surely don’t think your mother would—”
Nannie laid her hand on his arm.
“Don’t, John,” she urged. “Lucy is tired, and it’s really only a trifle. Let’s talk about something pleasant.”
“All right, but I must say you’re awfully good natured, Nannie!”
“I saw you carrying a roll of something. Did you get my music?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s in the hall with my hat. Do you want to try it now?”
“Why, if there’s time before supper. Is there, Lucy?”
“Yes,” said Lucy, and John and Nannie started toward the living room.
That night when John came whistling to bed, he found Lucy by the window staring out.
“Why, Lucy, aren’t you in bed yet?” he asked cheerfully.
“John, I wish you’d mow the lawn again,” she said, as though not hearing his question. “It’s been over two weeks since you did and it looks ragged. You used to keep it so beautifully.”
The next morning Lucy was dusting the dining room furniture. Mrs. Merwent had just finished her usual tardy breakfast.
“Who was that woman with her hat stuck on the back of her head who came so early yesterday?” she asked, pushing her chair away from the table.
Lucy frowned slightly.
“I suppose you mean Mrs. Hamilton. I never noticed how she wore her hat but she was the one who came earliest. I told you she was our neighbor when I introduced you. I like her the best of all those who were here,” Lucy returned with antagonistic emphasis.
“Well, I could never like a woman who wore her hat like that,” Nannie asserted. “Now that Miss Powell was the smartest one present at your tea. The way she put her hat on had real dash to it. She studies herself and dresses to bring out her points to the best advantage. I think that it’s a woman’s duty to look as well as she can.”
“I never cared for Miss Powell,” said Lucy stubbornly. “She always seemed so selfish to me.”
“Well, I thought she was nice,” persisted Nannie injuredly. “Her brother is William J. Powell of Powell and Powell. John knows the firm. She’s going to call on me soon and before the season’s over we’re going to a matinée together. I tell you, Lucy, you’re making a mistake, living by yourself. You owe it to John to make friends. A woman can advance her husband in lots of ways if she’s clever about it.”
Lucy opened her lips to speak but restrained the impulse before she had put her reply
