Lucy smiled in spite of herself.
“Well, let’s not have any more tragic scenes over it. It’s doubtless something very simple, and I’ll speak to him about it. Come on down and finish your dinner.”
“Oh, I couldn’t see him like this. I don’t care for any dinner.” Nannie sat up in bed and reached for the hand mirror which lay on her dressing table.
“I’ll send you up some then.”
“All right. You can tell Katy to bring me up a little something. I’d like some of the bisque I had her fix for John. He’ll feel hurt if I don’t taste it,” asserted Nannie apologetically.
Lucy made a motion toward the door but Mrs. Merwent held her hand.
“Wait a minute. Kiss me, Lucy. I’m so lonely.”
Lucy hesitated almost imperceptibly, and then bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek.
“Tell Katy she can send up the saucer of blanc mange she saved for me yesterday,” Nannie instructed as her daughter reached the door.
“What was the matter?” inquired John anxiously as he descended the stairs behind Lucy.
“Why, she was crying because she thought you were angry with her when you came home,” replied Lucy.
“Angry? I didn’t say anything to her.”
“I think it was your manner as much as what you said.”
“Well, I can’t be eternally thinking of my every word and intonation in this house. I’ll lose my mind. It’s first on one side, and then on the other. A man don’t know how to talk or act.”
“I don’t think you can quite compare us, John. I haven’t made any scenes like this.”
“No, but here you are jumping on me for not keeping your mother in a good humor, while I was only worried about you. You’re a very appreciative person, I must say!”
“I’m not jumping on you, John.”
“Well, you said I was the cause of all this to-do.”
“I didn’t say you were to blame, John.”
“Well, my good intentions weren’t very successful, if that’s so. You go around like the chief mourner at a funeral, and then when I make any attempt to help, you give me a slap like this.”
“You certainly don’t help me when you start situations like this one.” Lucy’s voice became cutting. “You don’t have to spend all day with her. It will take me a week to get her over the fit of blues she has.”
“Yes! That’s all the thanks I get for trying to show consideration! Talk about being misunderstood! I think I’ll keep my mouth shut after this.” John reseated himself at the table, and began to eat again in gloomy silence.
“John, what has gotten into you? You are so changed I hardly know you. You didn’t use to be so sensitive and childish.”
“Thank you,” he retorted sarcastically.
“Well, you are. Since Mother came you have gotten to be more like her every day. I think I am the one who has a hard time. I feel sometimes as though I would lose my mind.”
“That’s the second time you have said I was changed,” he snapped. “You are the one who is changed, and I think I can guess the reason. It’s not your mother half so much as it is someone else.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Lucy, her cheeks paling.
“Never mind what I mean. I don’t want to hear you accuse Nannie of anything more. If you are so warped that you think she has destroyed my manhood and made me into a baby, the less we have to say to each other, the better. She may be sensitive but she at least appreciates attempts at kindness, which you don’t.”
“I don’t want to talk any more,” announced Lucy wearily, with an effort at self control.
“Neither do I. I’m going down town,” he declared savagely. He threw down his napkin and went into the hall. Taking his hat from the stand, he left the house. Lucy heard the gate slam.
She took Dimmie up to bed.
It was Saturday night. John did not come in until past midnight.
Nannie did not get downstairs even for the usual late Sunday breakfast, and Katy took coffee, toast, eggs, and fruit to the bedroom. When the invalid finally appeared she was wearing an elaborate negligee. She clung to the walls, chairs, and tables, as she walked, and otherwise exhibited symptoms of extreme prostration.
When she came into the dining room, John, who was seated by the table, reading, looked up with an air of constraint.
Nannie greeted him in a faint voice.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” he answered.
After a second’s hesitation, he put down his paper and rose and went toward her.
“You look pale, Nannie,” he remarked in a low tone, pushing forward an armchair, but avoiding her glance as he did so.
“I’m all right, John. It’s nothing,” she replied in the same weak voice. “Thank you so much,” she added, sinking into the chair.
“Let me get you a little port wine,” he offered, standing beside her and watching her face as she leaned back with closed eyes.
“Oh, no, John. Don’t bother. I’ll be better in a minute,” she protested, smiling bravely. Then, with a sigh, she reached into the bosom of her gown and took out an envelope. “I want you to mail this letter for me,” she continued, with an obvious effort.
John took the letter from her and stared at the address uncomfortably.
There was a pause.
“I slept so badly last night,” said Nannie, moving her head from one side to the other as it rested against the chair.
“Nannie!” John blurted out, unconsciously crushing the envelope in his hand as he spoke, “I didn’t mean anything last night. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings at all. I was tired and worried, that’s all.”
His face flushed and he hesitated, gazing at her expectantly.
She did not answer at once, but when she opened her eyes she was smiling faintly. Reaching out her hand she laid it on his. He gave a relieved sigh.
“I know, John, dear! Lucy is so abnormal,” she breathed, tenderly sympathetic, lowering her voice and glancing toward the kitchen as
