“Three blind mice,
See how they run.
They all run after the farmer’s wife.
She cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such fools in your life,
As three blind mice?”
Jim regarded her with a curious expression.
“That’s it,” she ended. “There’s nothing more that could be said.”
“We’re blind mice, all right,” Jim remarked without spirit, as if to himself.
“Poor boy!” Miss Storms spoke simply, almost with tenderness.
“She’s cut more than our tails off,” he growled huskily.
Miss Storms laid her hand softly on his.
“Miss Storms, if you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll do it.” His voice had a new note.
“A flank movement is the best, Jim. You must tell Lucy’s mother that you are going to Russellville and will see the Professor Walsh she is going to marry.”
“Oh!” There was understanding and admiration in Jim’s voice.
“You might mention Minnie Sheldon, too, and I’ll find out a few more from some old letters of Ellen Low’s I have. As I told you, I am helpless on account of Ellen and Arthur Merwent. Anything I might do would make things worse, but you are exactly in the position to succeed, Jim, and it will be easy.”
“I wonder where Lucy’s mother could go,” he mused.
“Ruthlessness appears to be a purely female trait.” Miss Storms’ half humorous air was full of bitterness.
“Oh, I’ll do it all right,” Jim promised. “Don’t you worry.”
“I won’t. I’ll call you up and give you the ammunition early in the morning.”
“We’re only two blocks from the office. Let me out here,” requested Jim, observing the buildings. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Jim.” They shook hands warmly.
John’s expression as he came into the house in the evening was worried and uncertain.
He had left the office a little earlier than usual and reached Rosedene on a train which arrived there before the customary hour. He found Lucy, Dimmie, and Nannie sitting in the dining room. Lucy was reading aloud to Dimmie from a book of fairy tales and Mrs. Merwent was embroidering some underwear she had purchased on the previous day in consultation with Miss Powell. As John entered both women ceased their employment.
“Did you find everything all right at the office?” Lucy inquired with her usual simple manner.
“And are you all tired out, John?” added Nannie, smiling at him.
“No, I’m not tired,” he answered. “I was worried, that’s all.” As he spoke, he seated himself and lit a cigarette.
“Don’t worry, John,” Lucy said, drawing Dimmie to her side.
“No,” supplemented Mrs. Merwent. “There’s nothing to worry about, you poor boy.”
“Well, I’m glad if there isn’t.” He drew a long breath.
“I’m going down town again in the morning,” Nannie continued a moment later. “I just must get some more of this lingerie. It’s perfectly lovely. I’m going to show you part of what I bought after dinner, John.” She laughed coquettishly.
“Anyone would think you were making a trousseau,” he commented jealously.
Nannie became suddenly serious.
“No, John. Not for the present, at least.”
There was a brief pause.
“I see Carter’s are selling out. You might add to your collection there, Mamma.” Lucy’s hands moved uneasily over Dimmie’s hair as she talked. As she turned toward the child the light falling on her face revealed its haggard outlines.
No one responded to her remark. She glanced up and caught John’s gaze fixed on her mother. He drew another sigh of evident relief.
“Do you know,” he began with something of his old expansive manner, pushing his hair back from his forehead, “I went to see the sculptures of that new Polish artist today at lunch time. He is the beginning of a new movement away from the Rodin worship of sex and emotion in art.”
“I don’t think they ought to allow some statues to be exhibited,” declared Nannie.
“It isn’t so much the moral or ethical objection that influences me,” John elaborated, “but, as I have said before, I don’t believe in the emotional and literary in art. The artist’s business is to create beauty, not to comment upon it. The public is intelligent enough to understand and appreciate real artistic achievement, without tricks to call their attention to it. You really ought to see the exhibit, Lucy.”
“I should like to,” said Lucy encouragingly.
“And I too,” seconded Nannie.
“Well, we’ll all go,” he proposed.
John talked much during dinner. When it was over and Lucy had accompanied Dimmie up to bed, Nannie turned to John sweetly.
“I’ll sing to you a little, John,” she suggested.
“Yes, Nannie,” he acquiesced. He stretched his arms over his head in a gesture of well being. “I feel in the mood for music tonight,” he added comfortably.
Nannie seated herself at the piano. Lighting a cigarette, John reclined in the Morris chair beside her.
The next day John whistled as he walked to the station.
“Good morning,” he called as he entered the office.
Jim was bending over a filing case and looked up with slight surprise.
“Good morning,” he said. “How is everybody at your house?”
“Oh, everybody’s well,” John answered, and, picking up his mail, began to whistle again. “Nannie is coming down town on the nine-thirty to do some shopping,” he observed as he was opening a letter a moment later.
Jim glanced up again, but was silent.
The two worked on without further conversation until about nine o’clock, when Jim rose. He reached for his hat.
“When will you be back?” John inquired, tilting his chair toward the wall and opening his cigarette case.
“Not till after lunch,” Jim informed him. “I’m going several places, Layard’s among them.”
On reaching the street, however, Jim boarded a car from which he descended near the station that was the terminus for suburban trains from Rosedene, and when Mrs. Merwent emerged from the building he was one of the first pedestrians she encountered.
“How do you do, Mrs. Merwent?” He greeted her pleasantly, raising his hat as he spoke. “Aren’t you lost in this great city all alone?”
“Why, how do you do, Mr. Sprague?” cooed Nannie, shaking hands. “What a pleasant surprise! I thought you were at the office with John.”
“I was until a few minutes
