“Oh, Lucy, do you want to break my heart?” Nannie wailed. “No,” said Lucy at last, the peculiar hard expression on her face relaxing slightly. “Things used to be so different,” moaned Mrs. Merwent between sobs. “We were so congenial. And now that poor Mother’s dead, when I’m all alone and need affection so badly, and have forgiven all the past, to think that you could say such things to me!” And she wept afresh. Lucy gazed at her with a look which mingled pity with contempt. “Oh, Lucy, do you hate me?” Nannie’s voice was beseeching. “No,” Lucy repeated impassively, hesitating a moment before she answered. “Then, love me, Lucy! Don’t look at me that way!” Nannie threw her arms around her daughter’s neck. For a moment Lucy submitted to the caress without responding. Then she put her arms around her mother. “I can’t bear to have anything between us. We have always been so close together,” said Nannie, sniffing gently. Lucy glanced across her mother’s shoulder and saw Grace standing in the doorway. “You can clear the table,” Lucy ordered the girl sharply, at the same time loosening herself from Nannie’s embrace. “Yes, ma’am,” agreed Grace cheerfully. Nannie went upstairs to her room. She was followed, almost at once, by Grace. “Poor Mrs. Merwent,” the girl began, coming into Nannie’s room without knocking. “You look all pale and wore out.” Nannie observed her rouged cheeks in the mirror, peering over the girl’s head surreptitiously. “Am I pale, Grace?” she inquired nervously. “No. Not exactly pale,” amended the girl, “but your eyes look tired and you are worried.” “Do I show wrinkles?” insisted Nannie. “Not at all,” said Grace hastily, “but it breaks my heart to see you look so sad.” “It’s nothing, Grace. We all have our troubles. But you are a good, kind-hearted girl. Thank you.” “Is there anything you want?” offered Grace solicitously. “No. Not now. You can help Mrs. Winter. If I need you, I’ll call.” “All right, Mrs. Merwent. I’ll run up again after a while.” And Grace descended the stairs, humming a song under her breath. Lucy was in the kitchen beating eggs. “Did you move some money that was on the writing table in the living room, Grace?” she asked as the girl entered. “Why, no ma’am. Of course not!” denied Grace vigorously. “I can’t find it,” said Lucy. “Well, I didn’t touch it,” reasserted the girl with some indignation. “I don’t do such things, Mrs. Winter.” “I didn’t say you took it, Grace,” responded Lucy patiently. “I thought you might have moved it, that’s all. I’ve looked every place for it.” “No, I didn’t touch it,” Grace repeated. Lucy went upstairs. “Mamma, did you put away some money that was on the desk in the dining room?” she inquired. “Why, no, Lucy, I _never_ touch _anything_,” Nannie stated. “Well, it’s very funny. I laid it down and came up here, and when I went back it was gone.” “Maybe you locked it up, Mrs. Winter, and then forgot it.” Grace’s voice startled them both.