“Don’t you think I’d better go home, Lucy?” queried Jim in a low voice. “Please don’t go,” she begged, laying a hand on his sleeve. “Let’s talk.” “What about?” he asked with a grimace. “Tell me about when you were a little boy, Jim. Don’t you wish we never had to grow up!” “No,” replied Jim. “But I’ll tell you about my first day in school,” he added with a slight smile. “All right.” Lucy smiled back at him and settled herself comfortably in her chair. She wore a dress of blue and white striped voile that was deeply open at the throat, and Lucy’s throat was youthfully lovely. To Jim she appeared more girlish than he had ever seen her. “The teacher whipped a little girl and I bit him in the leg to make him stop,” began Jim. “Tell me all about it,” begged Lucy, drawing her chair closer. * * * * * It was nearly an hour before John and Nannie returned. “What do you suppose is keeping John and Mrs. Merwent?” Jim had repeated uncomfortably more than once before the time had elapsed. “I don’t know, Jim. Go on with what you were telling,” Lucy always answered. Jim had frowned but resumed his narrative. All the while Lucy showed no perturbation whatever at the continued absence of her mother and husband. Jim told story after story of his boyhood experiences, she asking questions and adding comments at which they both laughed. When John and Mrs. Merwent entered the house they came through the hall straight into the living room. “We’ve been for a walk,” John announced breezily. “It’s a great night. Did you people see the moonlight?” “I hadn’t noticed,” said Jim. Nannie’s eyes showed traces of tears and her voice was subdued. “You two look cosy in here,” she remarked as if in search of something to say. “We have been,” Lucy told her. “Well, I must go.” Jim rose. “Hadn’t you better stay till morning?” John suggested. “No.” Lucy was silent. After good nights were exchanged Jim left the house. “I’m going to bed.” Nannie did not speak to any one in particular. “Good night,” responded John and Lucy, and Mrs. Merwent ascended the stairs. “I could hardly get her to come back,” John told Lucy after they had gone to their room. “She’s so sensitive, Lucy. She talked about the way you felt toward her. She doesn’t think you have ever gotten over your old hard feelings.” “It wasn’t _my_ hard feelings, John.” Lucy spoke in an emotionless tone. “Now, Lucy,” John remonstrated, “anyone would think that you and I were perfect and nobody but Nannie was ever to blame for anything.” Lucy was silent and he went on. “She was so upset she talked about going home and marrying that Professor Walsh. I must say I think things are pretty bad when your own mother feels as though she was so little at home in her daughter’s house that she has to turn to a man like that----” He stopped. “It’s your house, too, John,” put in Lucy, her lip quivering. “Well, heaven knows, I don’t want to run her out of it!” he answered pettishly.