Wilfred’s heart sank lower still; for this looked like the direct interposition of Fate or whatever Power there was, on the side of the enemy. If this boy had actually gained a footing in his own home, how could he, Wilfred, hope to withstand him, and all that he represented? . . . He didn’t want to withstand him. He was lost. After the first glance, the black-haired boy avoided looking at Wilfred. He was as demure as a cat. He knew his own power. Wilfred glanced at the roses with a painful sneer. Faded ones, of course, because they were more pathetic. An awkward constraint fell upon the quartette. Aunt May, having introduced the two boys with as much as to say: You two ought to be friends, had become silent and fidgety. It must be apparent now, even to her fuzzy wits, that we couldn’t be friends, thought Wilfred. There was some desultory conversation between Joe and Aunt Fanny. The black-haired boy was exercising a horrible fascination over Wilfred. Fairly well dressed now, Wilfred perceived how good-looking he was. A healthy, pink color showed in the bold, thin profile; the whole head expressed a power of cynical hardihood. This boy doesn’t care _what_ he does! thought Wilfred. In body, too, Joe’s shoulders were wider than Wilfred’s, and under the shoddy pants the line of a trim thigh was revealed. Joe’s comeliness sickened Wilfred. He has every advantage of me! he thought despairingly. As from a distance, Wilfred heard his Aunt May saying to him in the manner of a rebuke: “Joseph has been telling us about himself. He has had a hard life. . . . I don’t know. . . . It is very interesting to hear. . . . Huh?” “Wilfred has been so sheltered!” put in Aunt Fanny. Wilfred listened woodenly. A screech of laughter sounded through him. Oh my Lord! they are on the way to make a hero of Joe! “Very interesting. . . .” Aunt May repeated vaguely. “. . . Huh?” The presence of Wilfred forced her to look at Joe anew, and to ask herself what was to come of his being in the house. An unfortunate boy, and not to be blamed in any way; still . . . a great boy like that . . . almost a man . . . An uncomfortable situation. Joe was master of it. He stood up, saying easily: “I gotta go now. Malcolm’ll be lookin’ for me.” A feeling of relief pervaded the other three. Joe, with eyes modestly cast down, waited for the ladies to invite him to call again. They felt strongly the suggestion to do so, but with Wilfred standing there, resisted it; and were glad that they had resisted it as soon as Joe was out. But all three inmates of the house knew by instinct that they had not seen the last of Joe. The sisters looked at each other with eyes eloquent of relief. Nevertheless, Aunt May said: “A deserving boy, sister. . . . Huh? . . . We must do something for him.” And Aunt Fanny answered: “Yes; and gifted with a strange power, May.”