"Now a knife, please,--oh, here's one," continued Madam Wetherby happily. "Go right about something else. I'll sit over there in that chair, and I'll have these peeled very soon." When John Wetherby visited his mother's rooms that morning he found no one there to greet him. A few sharp inquiries disclosed the little lady's whereabouts and sent Margaret Wetherby with flaming cheeks and tightening lips into the kitchen. "Mother!" she cried; and at the word the knife dropped from the trembling, withered old fingers and clattered to the floor. "Why, mother!" "I--I was helping," quavered a deprecatory voice. Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve to Margaret Wetherby's lips. "Yes, mother; that was very kind of you," said John's wife gently. "But such work is quite too hard for you, and there's no need of your doing it. Nora will finish these," she added, lifting the pan of potatoes to the table, "and you and I will go upstairs to your room. Perhaps we'll go driving by and by. Who knows?" In thinking it over afterwards Nancy Wetherby could find no fault with her daughter-in-law. Margaret had been goodness itself, insisting only that such work was not for a moment to be thought of. John's wife was indeed kind, acknowledged Madam Wetherby to herself, yet two big tears welled to her eyes and were still moist on her cheeks after she had fallen asleep. It was perhaps three days later that John Wetherby's mother climbed the long flight of stairs near her sitting-room door, and somewhat timidly entered one of the airy, sunlit rooms devoted to Master Philip Wetherby. The young woman in attendance respectfully acknowledged her greeting, and Madam Wetherby advanced with some show of courage to the middle of the room. "The baby, I--I heard him cry," she faltered. "Yes, madam," smiled the nurse. "It is Master Philip's nap hour." Louder and louder swelled the wails from the inner room, yet the nurse did not stir save to reach for her thread. "But he's crying--yet!" gasped Madam Wetherby. The girl's lips twitched and an expression came to her face which the little old lady did not in the least understand. "Can't you--do something?" demanded baby's grandmother, her voice shaking. "No, madam. I--" began the girl, but she did not finish. The little figure before her drew itself to the full extent of its diminutive height. "Well, I can," said Madam Wetherby crisply. Then she turned and hurried into the inner room. The nurse sat mute and motionless until a crooning lullaby and the unmistakable tapping of rockers on a bare floor brought her to her feet in dismay. With an angry frown she strode across the room, but she stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.