* * * * * The next morning being Sunday, breakfast was late and Nannie took her meal with the rest of the family. She asked John for the woman’s page of the morning paper and soon became engrossed in a perusal of “Complexion Hints.” The door bell rang. Katy answered it and returned with a letter, which she handed to Lucy, who, without opening it, laid it by her plate. “Who’s your letter from?” questioned Mrs. Merwent, looking up from her paper. “It’s from--Miss Storms.” Lucy hesitated as she glanced at the handwriting on the envelope. Nannie’s expression became disturbed and she watched her daughter silently. “Good Sunday atmosphere,” remarked John sarcastically, not raising his eyes from the paper he was reading. “Cheerful as a funeral.” Lucy took up her letter and opened it. “Now, Lucy,” her mother began uneasily, her voice gentle, “Miss Storms will probably have something mean to say about me in that letter, because she called up on the ’phone yesterday and I answered. But just remember that you haven’t heard my side.” “Why didn’t you tell me she rang up?” demanded Lucy, with the open letter in her hand. “Why--I--she didn’t leave any message, and I forgot it,” explained Nannie with embarrassment. “What difference does it make anyway!” put in John. “Miss Storms had no right to call up while Nannie was here and it served her right.” Lucy read the letter. “What does she say?” inquired Nannie, trying to sound casual but not succeeding. Lucy, her lips compressed, folded up the letter and put it in the envelope before she answered. “Why don’t you tell?” urged John impatiently. “What’s the use of keeping Nannie in hot water about it?” “She says she’s sorry for what happened,” announced Lucy quietly. “She ought to be!” declared John. “I hope you gave her a piece of your mind, Nannie.” “No. I only said that I didn’t think she ought to call up here under the circumstances,” cooed Nannie softly. “Well, I think you were too forbearing,” returned John. “I’ll put it in stronger terms when I see her.” “I don’t think either you or Mother have any right to treat my friends in any such way!” exclaimed Lucy feelingly. “Lucy thinks I’ve already robbed her of Mr. Sprague’s friendship,” insinuated Nannie in the same silvery tone, “and now I suppose I’m to blame for Miss Storms considering herself injured.” “In the first place, you have no right to have any friends who insult your mother,” began John dictatorially. “I have no obligation to defend my mother when she insults my friends,” retorted Lucy, rising from the table, pale with anger. “Nor your husband, either,” interposed Mrs. Merwent pointedly. “No! Nor my husband either!” Lucy exploded stormily, looking straight at John. “Lucy, you ought to think about what you say,” warned Nannie virtuously. “A woman who has as good a husband as you have should----”