“I’m going down town,” Lucy replied distantly, ignoring her mother’s query in regard to the child. “I was going down town, too, with Miss Powell,” Mrs. Merwent stated genially. “If you’ll wait till I can get ready, we can go that far together.” “I haven’t time,” returned Lucy. “Come, Dimmie.” And she went out. When Lucy and Dimmie reached home it was late. They found John and Nannie in the dining room. Nannie was apparently in the best of spirits. “We’ve been out, too,” she announced, her voice raised to a higher pitch than usual and her eyes unnaturally bright, “and we had the nicest time. Didn’t we, John?” “Yes, indeed,” agreed John, giving Lucy a resentful look. “I ran across John going over to Layard’s, or whatever you call them, and took him for a half holiday. He works too hard down at that old office anyway.” Mrs. Merwent showed great animation. Lucy went upstairs to remove her hat, leaving Dimmie in the dining room. “Where did you and Mamma go, Jimmie?” Nannie asked, as soon as Lucy was out of hearing. “We went to Miss Stormses, and see all the things I’ve got!” He showed several packages. “Who did you see? Who gave them to you?” Mrs. Merwent inquired. “Oh, we saw Miss Storms, and she give me this necktie, and my new grandpapa, he said he’d buy me a watch and chain. He said I could wear it all the time, and it ain’t going to be a play one neither. It’ll go just like a grown-up one.” “Who else did you see?” persisted his interrogator. “Oh, my new grandmamma, too. While I was there she didn’t give me nothing but cakes, but she kissed me a lot, and there’s something in one of my bundles she put there, she told me. She says I’m like my grandpapa. And do you know----” Dimmie stopped open mouthed, in the midst of his expansive confidences, and stared at his grandmother who had begun to sob violently, with her handkerchief to her eyes. “Come away from there, Dimmie,” commanded John. The child obeyed, approaching his father with a wondering gaze. “Now you’ve made poor Nannie cry,” John looked at Dimmie sternly. The child’s eyes filled and his lips began to quiver. “I--I--d-didn’t m-make her c-cry!” Dimmie wailed, his face full of woe. “I d-didn’t hurt her!” “Yes, you did hurt her,” John insisted firmly. Dimmie dissolved into a rain of tears. “It isn’t his fault, John--poor child,” interrupted Nannie gently through her own tears. Then to Dimmie, “Come here, darling. Come to Nannie.” Dimmie held back suspiciously. “Go to Nannie,” ordered John severely. “Wait, John.” Mrs. Merwent had wiped her eyes and was smiling at Dimmie. There was an unusual tensity in her manner. “Come on, Jimmie. See! I’ve brought you something, too,” and she lifted a small square parcel from the table and held it out to him. Dimmie approached her chair. “See. It’s a box of chocolates your papa bought for Nannie, and I’m going to give it to you.” Dimmie held out his hand. “Wait a minute,” she demurred. “What do you say, Dimmie?” demanded John.