“Of course I think just as you do about Lucy, Mr. Sprague, but if I were John I might” (she smiled again) “object the tiniest bit to your--enthusiasm.” “Object?” Jim looked blank. “Maybe that is the wrong word.” Nannie’s smile grew more meaning. “It isn’t every man who enjoys having his wife admired _too_ much.” “If John objects he only needs to say so. I don’t think you quite understand the atmosphere of this household yet, Mrs. Merwent.” “This household?” “Your daughter then.” “Well, I certainly think I ought to know her.” “You ought, but the most charitable thing is to believe you don’t.” There was decided asperity in Jim’s tone. Mrs. Merwent’s manner changed. She rose haughtily. “What do you mean by that, Mr. Sprague!” she exclaimed. Jim rose also, and the two scrutinized each other in silence for a moment. “No offense intended,” he protested, turning and knocking his pipe out on the mantel shelf. Nannie was still injured. “I don’t see how such innocent remarks can be so misinterpreted,” she insisted, crumpling her handkerchief. Jim did not answer at once. When he spoke his manner was authoritative. “Don’t you think it would be wise to drop this topic, Mrs. Merwent?” She preserved her air of dignity, but her uneasiness was obvious. “I don’t understand you, Mr. Sprague. I certainly will not be stopped from doing my duty in protecting Lucy no matter if you do misunderstand me.” “Protecting Lucy?” Jim’s eyes hardened. Mrs. Merwent twisted her handkerchief nervously. “Do you think Lucy needs to be protected from me, Mrs. Merwent?” he went on inexorably. Lucy’s voice was heard calling Dimmie. Nannie backed toward the hallway. Jim heard Lucy too. “I think Lucy needs protecting from her own ignorance and inexperience,” explained Nannie defensively. “I’ve suffered enough from public opinion even though I was innocent, Mr. Sprague, and I can’t be expected to welcome the same thing for her.” Jim seemed nonplussed. “I confess you have the best of me, Mrs. Merwent.” Nannie was mollified by seeing how disturbed he looked. “I knew you would consider Lucy’s welfare just as I do.” Then she seemed to dismiss the discussion. “There she is now. She does spoil Jimmie so!” “It has begun to rain, Dimmie. You mustn’t stay out in the rain. Where’s Papa?” Lucy was heard saying. “Dear me! It _is_ raining. I left a coat suit airing in the window. I’m packing away my winter things. You will excuse me while I go and take it in, Mr. Sprague?” Mrs. Merwent was smiling now, though she continued to regard Jim with apprehension. Jim turned to face her suddenly. “Hold on, Mrs. Merwent!” he began in an odd tone, his voice not quite under his control. Nannie continued to smile impersonally but in spite of herself she hesitated. “You will please tell me now just what you mean about Lucy and myself,” he demanded rather than asked. “Maybe Uncle Jim knows where Papa is.” Lucy came toward the living room door.