“Yes,” returned Lucy, not knowing what else to say. “She didn’t say anything about me?” pursued Nannie. “No,” responded Lucy, relieved. “Well, she doesn’t have to invite me if she doesn’t want to. I’m sure I’m not dying to have anything to do with either her or her friends. Of course it makes no difference to you whether your mother is given the cold shoulder or not. You go running after her just the same. Well, I don’t care. It doesn’t make any difference to me. She needn’t think I give it a single thought. I wouldn’t go to her teas if she begged me to, and I shouldn’t think you would either after the way she’s treated me. First, she puts that Mrs. Low up to making trouble between me and your father, and then she tries to ignore me. But all she has to do is to crook her finger, and you go tagging after her. I should think you’d have more pride about you than that, Lucy.” “But, Mother----” expostulated Lucy. “Oh, well, don’t mind me. Go on. I’m used to being ignored and humiliated. I can forgive and forget, but little credit do I get for it. Anybody is better than I am, in your eyes. Go on. Go to your tea. I’ll find someone who thinks I’m worth looking at. I was going down town with Miss Powell this afternoon anyway.” And Nannie sat down to her as yet untouched breakfast. * * * * * Lucy had just returned from her visit and was removing her hat and gloves before the hall mirror when John entered. She turned to face him and greeted him expectantly. “Hello,” he answered sulkily. “I’ve been to Miss Storms’,” Lucy volunteered. “Oh, I know all about your Miss Storms!” John told her. “Where’s Nannie?” He glanced about inquiringly. “She’s upstairs.” Lucy’s tone had become as distant as his own. “I don’t think your father ought to have come to Chicago while Nannie was here,” he began, speaking in a low voice, but with some heat. “What do you mean, John? I didn’t know you knew they were here.” “Miss Storms brought them by the office in her machine. She said she had just driven you to the station. I don’t think you ought to have gone under the circumstances.” His speech became louder. “Why?” demanded Lucy, looking at him. “Out of consideration for Nannie, of course.” “What would you have done?” “I should have told Miss Storms.” “Told her that I wouldn’t see my own father? I couldn’t do that, John. He’s dearer than anyone else in the world, after you and Dimmie, and----” Lucy paused. “More so than your own mother,” accused John. A noise was heard. John stepped to the foot of the stairs and saw Nannie disappear in the upper hallway. “I wonder if she heard,” he mused, frowning. Lucy’s face grew hard. She turned and mounted the stairs. “Dinner is ready, Mother,” she called, knocking at Mrs. Merwent’s door. There was no answer. Lucy repeated the knock several times, always with the same result. John had followed her. “I’ll talk to Nannie,” he announced pugnaciously. Lucy turned away.