“You haven’t taken things over,” Lucy interrupted. “I don’t need your help any longer.” “Why, Lucy----” “From now on I shall attend to my own household. There is absolutely nothing for you to do.” “Why, Lucy, what has happened?” demanded Nannie in a voice in which was mingled astonishment and alarm. “A lot of things have happened, but suppose we don’t talk them over before the servant.” Katy had gone into the dining room. “Well! When John comes home I think I’ll ask about this!” “Do,” advised Lucy as Katy returned to the kitchen. Nannie left the room and went upstairs to experiment with a new device for curling the hair, one of the day’s purchases. “Hello, Mamma!” shouted Dimmie shortly afterward, coming in from the back yard. “Hello, Sonny,” beamed Lucy. “Here, let me get you ready for dinner. Papa will be home soon.” “Has Nannie come?” inquired Dimmie. “Yes,” answered Lucy, washing his face and hands. “Where is she?” he insisted. “Don’t wash so hard, Mamma. It hurts.” “Oh, she’s upstairs, I think. Now come let me brush your hair.” “I’m goin’ upstairs to see what Nannie’s got for me!” Dimmie was impatient. John’s key was heard in the latch. “There’s Papa!” exclaimed Lucy. “Let’s run to meet him.” And catching Dimmie’s hand, she ran with him into the hall. Smiling uneasily, she waited for John. She wore a blue muslin dress and had fastened a half opened white rose in her hair. “Well, dear,” she greeted him. His glance passed abstractedly over the dress and the rose. He kissed her forehead but said nothing. He seemed worried and depressed. “Is anything the matter, John?” she asked, regarding him timidly. “No-o,” he responded indefinitely. “I’m here, Papa,” called Dimmie who had not been kissed. “Yes?” John noticed absently. “Get washed, dear. Dinner is all ready to put on the table,” said Lucy. “Has Nannie come back yet?” He avoided Lacy’s gaze as he spoke. “Yes. She’s in her room.” John’s frown deepened. He mounted the stairs. Lucy superintended the placing of the meal on the table and John reappeared almost immediately. “Isn’t she coming down to dinner?” he inquired nervously. “Go and call Mrs. Merwent, Katy,” Lucy bade the servant. Nannie followed Katy downstairs and entered the dining room. Her hair was beautifully curled and as she came in she put her hand to her head with a self conscious gesture. “Why, how are you, John?” she began. “I didn’t know you had come home.” The meal proceeded in constrained silence. “Miss Powell and I had such a nice day,” remarked Nannie at length, “but this evening I got into a jam on the car. I did so wish you had been with me, John. The most insulting man! He crowded me so I almost ruined my dress. But that’s the way with these Chicagoans. If you had been around he would have behaved mighty differently.”