He tapped at the door. “Don’t you want some dinner?” he called in a voice that he tried to make careless. Mrs. Merwent did not reply, but he could hear the sound of soft sobbing within. He tapped again. “Please try to eat some dinner, Nannie,” he called once more pleadingly. “You’ll make yourself sick.” “No thank you, dear John. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t swallow food. I o-oh,” and the sobbing was redoubled. When John returned to the dining room Lucy was at the table. He seated himself in silence. “She won’t come,” he announced gloomily after a few moments. “Now you see what you’ve done. Nannie is heartbroken.” “I don’t see that I’ve done it,” retorted Lucy quickly. “I couldn’t help their coming to Chicago, and I didn’t tell her about it.” “Well, if you had refused to go,” argued John, “and told Miss Storms you didn’t care to see the woman your father had deserted your mother for----” “That would have been a good way to keep it from Mamma, who was listening to every word I said!” Lucy gazed at John defiantly. “At any rate, if you had refused without any explanation Nannie would have needed to know nothing.” “If she had not listened to what wasn’t intended for her ears she would have needed to know nothing.” “How could she help hearing when we were talking in the hall?” Lucy did not reply. “I think you ought to take your stand, Lucy, without vacillating.” “What do you mean by taking my stand, John?” “Well, you are either on Nannie’s side, or you are on your father’s side. You can’t be on both.” “I don’t see why not. That is just the stand I’ve taken. I’m not to blame for the divorce and I have a right to see my father whenever I wish.” “Not after the way he has treated Nannie!” John answered hotly. “I see her after the way she has treated him!” Lucy returned with equal heat. “Lucy, do you mean to say that you have taken your father’s side against Nannie?” John interrogated incredulously. “I’ve just said that I’ve taken neither side.” “But if you took sides, it would be for him,” persisted John. “Yes,” admitted Lucy. Dimmie came in through the kitchen doorway and halted by the table. Lucy drew her to him, and he leaned against her chair. John took no notice of him. “Lucy, I am surprised. How a woman can turn against her own mother----” “What about her own father?” Lucy interrupted angrily. “You are unjust, cruel and ungrateful,” continued John, paying no attention to her question. Lucy was white. “It is entirely my own affair,” she said coldly. “Suppose we don’t discuss it further.” “It’s not your own affair,” contradicted John, “and I don’t propose to see you insult and humiliate your mother in any such way.” “You have no right to dictate to me in this matter or any other.” Lucy rose from the table, her eyes blazing. John sprang up and went out through the hall, slamming the front door after him. “What is Papa mad about?” Dimmie asked of his mother.