“If you are referring to Jim Sprague,” Lucy’s tone was menacing, “my friendship for him or anybody else is none of your business.”
She had risen. Her breast heaved and her nostrils widened as she gazed at her mother.
“Why, Lucy! How can you fly into such a passion!” Nannie was frightened. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong about it.”
“You said people were talking about us,” accused Lucy in a trembling voice.
“Why, no, I didn’t. I only meant that I was afraid people might talk.”
“That wasn’t what you said.” Lucy was very pale and continued to eye her mother steadily.
“You misunderstood me, Lucy. You are always misunderstanding me,” protested Mrs. Merwent soothingly. “I only consider your own welfare, and at the least thing you flare up like you hated me—over the merest trifles. I think I’m the one who ought to get angry.” Nannie assumed an air of injury.
“Oh, I’m too tired to talk about it, Mother.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes, ‘Mother!’ You always used to call me ‘Mamma.’ ”
Lucy did not reply.
“I suppose you didn’t get a chance to talk a minute alone with your father,” resumed Mrs. Merwent, as if nothing had happened. “Did you?” she repeated after a moment’s silence.
“Yes.”
“Did he say anything about me?” Nannie went on.
“I told you once, Mother, that nobody said anything about you.”
“Well, did he seem conscience stricken and ashamed of what he had done?”
“No. Please let’s not talk about it.”
“I suppose then he looked happy?”
Lucy did not answer.
“Of course he did,” concluded Nannie, “and you said nothing at all about it. You were afraid to tell him what you thought of his crime. You are a nice daughter—”
Lucy went into the kitchen.
Nannie, having finished her meal, rose from the table and followed.
“Did you tell him what we think of his cruel and contemptible action? I suppose that creature gloats over it. What did you say to him, Lucy?”
Dimmie bounded into the room, breathless from play.
“Mother,” Lucy’s manner was defensive, “I wish you wouldn’t insist on knowing what it is better not to discuss.” Then, turning to the child she added, “Get your hat, Son. It’s time for you to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s. The wagon will be there pretty soon.”
“Then you did not take my part at all?” continued Mrs. Merwent tenaciously.
Again Lucy made no reply.
“You took his side, and the side of that odious snake in the grass who tempted him away from us. I should have thought that your self-respect would have kept you from making friends with her, even if your mother’s suffering couldn’t. She’s no better than a common—”
“Mother!” Lucy’s eyes were dangerous once more.
“And that sneaking Miss Storms is no better. I—”
“Stop!” cried Lucy in a voice of command.
Mrs. Merwent paused involuntarily and shrank back.
“So far I have taken nobody’s part in this matter, Mother, and have tried to blame nobody. But if you are wise you will not make it too hard for me.”
“I suppose that means that you are going to take your father’s side,” sneered Nannie.
“It means just what I say,” Lucy was growing angrier with every word, “but I will not listen to you insult my father, or Miss Storms, who is my friend, or my father’s wife—”
“Who is also your friend,” supplied Nannie with another sneer.
“Yes, she is,” declared Lucy defiantly. “And they all had the decency not to discuss you in your absence,” she finished bitterly.
“And I’m not decent!” her mother almost screamed, throwing a cup she held in her hand on the kitchen table.
The cup broke into a dozen pieces and Dimmie, who had been listening with open mouth, began to cry from fright. Mrs. Merwent rushed from the kitchen upstairs.
Lucy took Dimmie to Mrs. Hamilton’s house. The carryall arrived as they were approaching. After Stella and Dimmie were safely ensconced in the vehicle Lucy followed Mrs. Hamilton into the house.
“You look all tired out, Mrs. Winter,” Lucy’s neighbor observed as they seated themselves in the neat kitchen.
The tears started to Lucy’s eyes.
“I just felt as if it would do me good to see you, Mrs. Hamilton,” she replied.
“How is your mother?” Lucy’s hostess inquired pleasantly, a few moments later. “I’m afraid she thinks I’m never going to get over to see her. She was out when I called after the tea, and I’m just so busy I haven’t time to turn around. I wish she’d do as I said and just run in now and then.”
“She’s been going out a good deal. Is little Stella over her cold? She seems quite well again.” Lucy changed the subject quickly, looking uncomfortable.
Mrs. Hamilton had risen to open a window and did not hear.
“Mrs. Merwent is so wonderfully young looking. You ought to learn her secret, whatever it is, and take care of your nerves, Mrs. Winter.” Mrs. Hamilton smiled sympathetically and patted Lucy’s arm as she spoke.
Lucy bit her lip.
The telephone in the Winter home rang shortly after Lucy’s departure and Nannie came downstairs to answer.
A voice asked for Lucy.
“Is this Miss Storms?” interrogated Nannie.
“Yes.”
“Well, this is Mrs. Merwent. If you wish to insult me again in my daughter’s house, please don’t do it over the telephone, Miss Storms. If you want to crow over your cousin’s success in—” Miss Storms had hung up the receiver with a jerk. Nannie, after listening a minute, hung up her receiver also.
When Lucy returned Nannie met her in the hall. She smiled nervously into her daughter’s unresponsive eyes.
“Where have you been, Lucy?” she began in a conciliatory manner.
“I went over to Mrs. Hamilton’s for a few minutes.”
“I suppose you felt you needed sympathy, with such a difficult mother,” said Mrs. Merwent in a joking tone.
“No, Mother,” Lucy answered a little wearily. “I don’t take my troubles to others.”
“Except Mr. Sprague!” Nannie’s tone became quickly caustic.
Lucy met her mother’s eyes coldly.
“What I meant was that I do not tell my troubles to the neighbors.”
“I’m much
