"I request--I demand that you cease this nonsense at once. As a Christian woman you ought to be on your knees thanking God that your husband is not lying intoxicated on that sofa, as he was last Sunday at this time. You ought to be thanking God that he is becoming his former self, and winning respect by acting like a true gentleman. It was our unutterable folly that was destroying him, and I say this folly must and shall cease. I will not permit my father's sensitive nature to be wounded as it has been. You shall not spoil this first bright day he has had after so many years. If you care for him why don't you try to win his affection? and whoever heard of a heart being won by whining and fault-finding? But of this be sure, you shall not spoil this day. I charge you as a wife and a lady to cease this childish petulance, and come down at once." "Oh!" said Mrs. Mayhew, rising mechanically, "if you are going to make a scene---" "I am going to prevent scenes," said Ida, with all her old time imperiousness. "I insist that we appear in the future like a quiet, well-bred family, and I warn you that I will permit my father to be trifled with no longer. He SHALL have a chance. Wait, let me help you make a more becoming toilet for Sunday evening." Ida was very strongly aroused, and the superior nature mastered the weaker. Mrs. Mayhew became as wax in her hands, although she made many natural and irritable protests against her daughter speaking to her as she had done. Ida paid no heed to her mother's words, and after giving a few finishing touches to her dress relieved her sternness by a judicious compliment, "I wish you to take the seat father is reserving for you," she said, "and appear the charming lady that you know how to be so well;" and without further parley they went down together. Once in the social eye it would be Mrs. Mayhew's strongest impulse to make a good impression, and she behaved beautifully. Something in Ida's manner puzzled her father, but she smiled so reassuringly that he gave himself up to the quiet enjoyment of the situation that was so natural and yet so novel. He listened with a pleased expression to the music, and noted, with deep satisfaction, the friendly and respectful bearing of those near, towards both his wife and himself; but he exulted in the evident admiration that his daughter excited. The people at the Lake House had already discovered that there was a decided change for the better in the Mayhew family, and they greeted the improvement with a kindly but well-bred and unobtrusive welcome that was creditable to human nature. Of course there was a great deal of whispered surmise, but nothing offensive to the eye. Stanton came and asked Ida to join in the singing at the piano, but she shook her head decidedly. "Who has been hurting your feelings?" he asked, in a low tone.