"Yes," said Mrs. Reade, calmly; "we both learned together while she was staying with me, and she does it much quicker than I do. I suppose you are thinking you would like to participate in the benefits of the fashion too?" she added, lifting her face suddenly, with a quick look in her bright eyes that was like the opening of a masked battery. "If I thought that Rachel would ever knit socks for me, for the pleasure of it----" He paused with a change and break in his voice, regarding her wistfully. Mrs. Reade immediately made a sheaf of her needles, wound them up in the sock, and impaled her ball of silk upon them. "Tell me," she said, folding her hands on her knees in a business-like manner, "tell me, what has Rachel been doing?" "Don't you know? She has written to me to break off our engagement." "What for?" "I can't imagine--she doesn't say. I thought _you_ might be able to help me to find that out." Mrs. Reade looked at him in silence for a few seconds, kindly and gravely. Even she felt herself a little at a loss as to what course to pursue. "What have you done?" she asked abruptly. "Nothing. I went up to see her just now, but I was disappointed. She could not, or would not, come in. I rather fancy your mother had been scolding her." "I have no doubt she had. She doesn't approve of independence on the part of young people." "I won't have her scolded," Mr. Kingston broke out, with sudden vehemence. "If I like to blame her, that is another matter. I won't have her set against me by other people. Nothing would make her hate me more than that kind of thing." Mrs. Reade felt the justice of this protest, but she did not see fit to discuss her mother's little mistakes. "What are you going to do?" she inquired. "Do you mean am I going to take my dismissal in this off-hand way? No, certainly not. After all the time we have been engaged--after all that has come and gone between us--after all the preparations that have been made--it would be _too_ preposterous! I should be the laughing-stock of the colony." "That would be very sad," said Mrs. Reade, with her head on one side. "Now be a good little woman, and don't jeer at me--I didn't come to you for that. You know--or you ought to know--that I am horribly upset and miserable about all this business, and that I want you to help me." "I don't see how I can help you," she said. "Tell me about Rachel. What is the matter with her? What does she mean?" "Well, evidently she means that she doesn't want to marry you," sighed Mrs. Reade. "Tiresome child, why didn't she think of it before?" "Why should she think of it now? Oh, yes, I know she has not been keen about it for some time, as she should have been. But she has not seemed to _dislike_ it; she has looked forward to it as much a matter of course as--as it has been to all the rest of us. And I felt so sure it would be all right--that I could make her as happy as possible--when we were once married and she had settled down!"