“His family’s trying to switch him to Sally Pickett. He hasn’t been here lately, but you do see him occasionally?” There were tears in her eyes as she swung round from the range. “I’ve got to stop that, John! I’m ashamed of myself for meeting him as I’ve been doing--walking with him in the back streets and letting him talk to me over the telephone when mama isn’t round. I didn’t know----” “Well, I just happened to spot you Monday evening, and I meant to speak to you about it. Not exactly nice, sis. I’m sorry about the whole business. Ned’s really a manly chap, and I don’t believe he’ll be bullied into giving you up.” “All over now, John,” she answered with badly-feigned indifference. “Well, the course of true love never did run smooth. Father and mother have done their almighty best for us, but changes have come so fast in this burg they haven’t been able to keep up with the procession. Father misses chances now and then, as in refusing the Pickett case when the State went after him for polluting the river with refuse from his strawboard mill. Dad thought the prosecution was justified and foolishly volunteered to assist the State as a public duty. Pickett lost and had to spend a lot of money changing his plant; so he’s knocked us whenever he got a chance.” “That’s just like papa. I only wish we could do something really splendid for him and mama.” “We’re going to, sis,” said John confidently. “Take it from me we’re going to do that identical thing. Now give me the potatoes and the coffee-pot. Precede me with the bread and butter. There’s mother at the front door now. Step high as to the strains of a march of triumph. We’ll give a fine exhibition of a happy family, one for all and all for one!” II Mrs. Ward, detained by a club committee meeting, began to apologize for not getting home in time to assist with the supper. “Oh, John did all the heavy work! And we had a fine talk into the bargain,” Helen replied cheerfully. As her father was tired and didn’t know the latest domestic had departed hence, she went on with an ironic description of the frailties and incapacity of that person and pictured the gloom of the Kirbys as they ate her initial meal. Mrs. Ward had brought the afternoon mail to the table. She was the corresponding secretary of a state federation which used the mails freely. She ate in silence, absorbed in her letters, while her husband praised Helen’s cooking.