“He’s gone home,” Nannie informed him. “Well, what did he sneak out without saying a word for?” Lucy’s eyes glinted, but she only said, “You’d better ask him. I don’t know.” Dimmie ran in from the kitchen. “Mamma! Mrs. Hamilton wants----” he began. “Come to bed. You can tell me upstairs.” Lucy caught the child’s hand. The two went out. “John, what in the world do you suppose is the matter with Lucy? She treats me terribly.” “I’m damned if I know!” exclaimed John fiercely. “I’m sick of it.” “I don’t know what’s to become of us if she keeps on like this,” Nannie continued. “Well, I know what will become of _me_ if it goes on much longer!” His tone was eloquent. “Now, John,” Mrs. Merwent placed her hand on the sleeve of his coat. “For my sake, John. I have suffered so much for Lucy already.” Tears seemed near. “I’ll sit tight and do the best I can, Nannie, but as much as you’ve done for me, there are some things I can’t bear.” Nannie sighed. “I’ve noticed that every time she sees Mr. Sprague she’s worse,” she remarked significantly a moment later. She and John stood looking into each other’s faces. “Poor John.” She took one of his hands in both hers. He returned appreciatively the pressure she gave it, then moved away. “Are you going to bed so early?” she interrogated uneasily. “No. I’m going to take a walk,” he answered. And the door slammed after him. XXVII Lucy rose early the following day, and when John and Nannie came downstairs they found her, pale and haggard, moving about the kitchen giving instructions to Katy. “Now, Lucy,” objected Mrs. Merwent, “you shouldn’t do this. Dr. Hamilton said you were to have absolute rest.” Nannie herself looked fresh and immaculate. “If you don’t stop frowning like that,” she added, “nothing on earth will ever take the wrinkles out of your forehead.” Without replying to her mother, Lucy finished her marketing list. “Put breakfast on, Katy,” she said to the servant. “Yes, you may put breakfast on, Katy,” repeated Mrs. Merwent. “Mr. Winter is waiting.” “Yes, Miss Nannie. Right dis minute,” replied the negress with alacrity. The postman’s whistle blew and, as Katy was busy with the dishes, Nannie went to the door. She returned with a letter in her hand. “I suppose your father has some more insults to heap on me,” she observed acridly, as she gave the envelope to Lucy. Lucy glanced at it and recognized Mr. Merwent’s handwriting. She left the room. “Oh, don’t be afraid! I’m not going to ask you what’s in it!” Nannie called after her in a trembling voice. John was reading the morning paper in the living room and Dimmie was out of doors, so when Lucy mounted the stairs the upper floor was deserted. She entered her bedroom and, locking the door, seated herself weakly on the edge of her bed. She opened the letter.