She spread a folded newspaper on the top of the table. "There! Now, you won't mar the top. Take your skirt right off and climb up." Mrs. Upjohn was a heavy woman and she obeyed with some difficulty. Miss Lambkin continued in her pursuit of information while she draped the skirt. "You haven't answered about the insurance, Alicia. What did Patty say about it? I don't suppose Patty'd know exactly and I wouldn't trust her guess anyway. John Hazen never seemed to, to any extent. Patty's kind o' flighty, isn't she, and cracked on the men, although you wouldn't think it from her highty-tighty manner. She used to think she was going to marry Meriwether Beatty, I remember. Land! He had no more idea of marrying her than I had. And she's been cracked on every man that's more'n spoken to her since. She's got the symptoms of nervous prostration; all the signs of it. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she went crazy, one o' these days. If Doctor Sanderson is looking for patients for his sanitarium he needn't look any farther. Patty's it. Turn around, Alicia. I don't get a good light on the other side. Why, Patty's--" Mrs. Upjohn had heard the front door shut. "Sh-h-h!" she cautioned. "Here's Patty now." They heard Patty come slowly up the stairs and, although there were no sounds of it, she seemed to be weeping. "Now, I wonder," whispered Miss Lambkin, "what's the matter. Do you s'pose her--" "Sh, Letty! She'll hear you. I'll get down and go to her." "Without a skirt, Alicia?" But Mrs. Upjohn did not heed. She got down from the table, clumsily enough, and went to the door. Patty had just passed it. "Patty!" Mrs. Upjohn called softly. "Is there anything the matter?" Patty turned a miserable, tear-stained face. "It--it's all o-over," she said dully. "Your father?" asked Mrs. Upjohn. She spoke in an awe-struck whisper in spite of herself. Did not Death deserve such an attitude? Patty nodded silently. "I'm so sorry, Patty," Mrs. Upjohn's sympathy was genuine. "I _am_ so sorry." "Oh, Alicia," Patty cried in a burst of grief, "my father's d-dead." Mrs. Upjohn folded ample arms about her and patted her on the shoulder as if she had been a child. "There, there, Patty! I'm just as sorry as I can be; and so will everybody be as soon as they hear of it. But you just cry as much as you want to. It'll do you good." So they stood, Mrs. Upjohn unmindful of the fact that she had no skirt and Patty crying into a lavender silk shoulder. "Land!" The voice was the voice of Miss Lambkin and it proceeded from the doorway. "I'm awfully sorry to hear your father's dead, Patty. How did--" Patty lifted her head majestically from the lavender silk shoulder. "My grief is sacred," she murmured; and fled to her room.