Lucy stood up too. Her eyes were very bright. Involuntarily she put one hand on her bosom. Nannie watched her. “Oh, Lucy, I want to be loved! I want to be loved!” Nannie protested suddenly, dissolving into tears again. Placing one arm about her mother’s shoulders, Lucy’s eyes sought Dimmie across Nannie’s bent head. “So do I,” she murmured fervently, almost as if to herself. “What makes you look so nice?” Dimmie asked Lucy suddenly. Mrs. Merwent lifted her head. “_You’re_ not glad I’m going away! Oh, Jimmie, you don’t want Nannie to go, do you?” He jumped up and ran to her. “When Nannie goes away on the cars, do you want to go with her? I’ve got some more chocolate drops upstairs,” she whispered. “You bet I would!” he replied enthusiastically. “Where are they?” “Don’t give him candy just before meals, Mamma,” Lucy requested gently. “Oh, it won’t hurt this time. I’m going upstairs and I’ll get them.” “I’m so afraid it’ll make him sick,” remonstrated Lucy. “Here, Son, wait till after dinner. Don’t eat them now. Be a good boy.” “No,” returned Dimmie rebelliously, backing away from his mother. “I want ’em now. Please get ’em, Nannie.” “We must mind Mamma or she’ll be angry. Because I’m going away, you know, Jimmie. Wait a minute, dear. Dinner’ll soon be ready, and I’ll take you on the train with me if you’re a good boy.” Dimmie compromised without further parley. When John arrived Lucy greeted him with suppressed excitement, but he seemed to observe nothing unusual. Dinner was served. Nannie entered the dining room smiling mournfully, and placed a rose at his plate. “Did you get your shopping done?” he queried. “No,” she responded. “I didn’t get what I wanted and came back early.” After a few moment’s silence John laid down his knife and fork. “What’s the matter, Nannie? You’re not eating anything,” he commented. “Mamma ain’t eatin’ nothin’ neither,” observed Dimmie. “Yes, I am.” Lucy hastily took up her knife and fork. “Why, I’m eating as much as usual, John.” Nannie resumed her meal. “You know I never eat very heartily. Did you have a hard day at the office?” “No, indeed,” John declared. “I’m feeling fine. When shall we go and see the sculptures?” Mrs. Merwent was neglecting her food again, and seemed not to hear. She wiped her eyes furtively. “Why don’t you answer, Nannie?” he insisted reproachfully. “I asked you when you wanted to go and see the sculptures. And you aren’t eating again. What’s the matter? Are you dreaming?” “No, John,” she sighed, “I’m not dreaming. What was it you said?” John glanced from Nannie to Lucy and frowned. “When do you want to go and see the sculptures I spoke of?” he repeated with less enthusiasm. “Why--I don’t know. Let’s see---- When had you rather go, Lucy?” “Any day that is convenient for John.” “Well, let’s see----” Nannie regarded her plate abstractedly. “Would day after tomorrow do?” suggested John, still covertly scrutinizing the two women.