Mrs. Merwent came downstairs with a headache, but after her insistent complaints elicited some sympathetic remarks from Lucy, she settled herself resignedly to mend a small hole in one of the grey silk stockings which she had worn to _The Madcap Girl_. It was a dull day. Lucy picked up the morning paper from the floor where John had dropped it as he went out, halted near a window and read aloud at random the few items which she thought her mother might find of interest. “I see here that Miss Powell was one of the hostesses last night at the Ravenswood Golf Club,” said Lucy in a determinedly pleasant voice, laying the paper down. “She has relatives with money so she can do such things,” her mother sighed, dropping the stocking into her lap and staring moodily out the window. “Little did I think I would ever be dependent on your charity,” she mourned, after a pause. Lucy looked quickly at her mother. “Well, I don’t envy Miss Powell. She’s too self centered to be very happy,” said Lucy. “Like me, I suppose you mean,” complained Nannie. “I’ve ceased to expect any sympathy from you, Lucy.” “I didn’t mean any such thing, Mamma, and you know it!” Lucy spoke with forced good nature. “You know I don’t make oblique or sarcastic comments.” “Well, do I?” demanded her mother. “Did I ever imply that you envied Miss Powell or anyone else?” “I didn’t mean you envied her, either,” explained Lucy. “I only said _I_ didn’t.” She spoke over her shoulder as she left the room. She had passed up the stairs when the tinkling of the telephone sounded from the hall and Nannie rose to answer it. “This is John,” was the reply to her faint “hello.” “Is this Nannie speaking?” “Yes,” she affirmed weakly, remembering her aching head. “Well, I was mistaken about Jim’s working tonight. It’s tomorrow night. So I’m going to bring him out this evening. Tell Lucy, will you?” “Certainly,” responded Nannie in a livelier tone. “How’s your headache?” “Oh, it’s ever so much better, thank you; it’s about all gone.” “That’s good,” said John, and he hung up the receiver. Lucy, dressed for the street, soon came down stairs. “I’m going to do some shopping,” she informed Nannie. “I didn’t suppose you would care to go with your headache. I’ll be back by the time Dimmie comes from kindergarten and get him ready to go to Mrs. Hamilton’s. Your lunch is all fixed and in the refrigerator. There’s ice tea already made in the blue pitcher.” “My headache’s not as bad as it was.” “Well it’s too late now to wait for you to dress,” began Lucy. “Oh, don’t worry, Lucy. I have no intention of going. I’ve got sense enough to know whether I’m wanted or not.” “Mamma, please,” Lucy begged, almost in desperation. “Well, Lucy, you started it.” Lucy hurried toward the hall. “Mr. Sprague is coming to dinner tonight,” Nannie called importantly. Lucy halted an instant. “Well, there’s plenty,” she called back enigmatically, and went out. Nannie looked blank until the front door shut.