“Oh, it’s not necessary, Lucy. It’s not necessary. _I’m_ going out of the house tomorrow, and if you want me to I can go today. I’ll go down town and stay at a hotel as soon as my baggage is ready.” Lucy continued to pack in silence for several minutes. “Not that way, Lucy. I showed you once how I wanted them folded,” complained Mrs. Merwent, interrupting the work with an impatient gesture. “I’m doing the best I can.” “That’s right! Lose your temper. One would think we might get along without a fuss for one day, especially as I’m going away for I don’t know how long.” “I’m not quarreling.” “No, but you’re so hard, Lucy. You don’t seem to have a grain of affection in your heart.” “I don’t think I’m the only one who’s hard.” “Why can’t you be like you used to before you left home? I do long for a little affection sometimes. You’re my only child, and I’ve tried so hard.” Nannie ceased her occupation in order to wipe her eyes. “But you are so cold and hostile! Every trifling thing is an excuse for getting angry and hurting me.” Sitting by the trunk, Mrs. Merwent began to weep. “Oh, Lucy, you are so _ungrateful_. I overlooked all the past and came here, and--and you’ve treated me so! I’m sure it’s not my fault. If I were at all to blame--if--why, the fact that your husband and even your own child feel kindly toward me shows I’m not. It’s only you. You are so cold and unnatural. I feel sometimes that I haven’t got any child. I’m all--alone--in the world----” and Nannie hid her face in her hands and sobbed aloud. Lucy went on laying garments in the trunk. “You’ve got Professor Walsh,” she said. “Lucy!” Nannie’s tone was eloquent of reproach. “How _cruel_ of you! How cruel----!” The sobs were redoubled. “I don’t know--that I--would ever have--thought of marrying--again, if you had been--different,” she asserted brokenly. “How different?” “Oh, I know it’s no use, Lucy,” Nannie spoke reproachfully, drying her eyes. “You don’t know what a daughter could mean to a mother’s heart.” “Yes, I do,” affirmed Lucy softly, pausing in her work. “Well, I hope if you ever have one, she won’t misunderstand you as you have me. I know how much the sympathy of my own dear mother meant to _me_.” Lucy began to lay garments in the trunk again. “Is there anything else?” she asked after a moment. “No, but wait a minute. Let’s make up. Let’s not separate with hard feelings like this.” Nannie left the pile of clothes she was sorting and came toward her daughter. “I can’t bear to have you hate me,” she explained, tears in her eyes again. “I don’t hate you.” “I’m glad.” Nannie bent over Lucy. “I shall go away now feeling different. I’m sure by the next time I visit you we will have come to understand each other better.” Lucy hastily scrambled to her feet. Murmuring something about luncheon, she almost ran from the room and down the stairs.