"Now, mother, dear," she said, "I have made it worse, haven't I? I didn't mean to do that--to cry. Truly, I didn't. I won't ever do it again." She put one arm about her mother's neck and stroked her forehead gently. "Mother, darling, doesn't it make your head just a little better to have your little daughter hu--hug--ging you, too?" And she hid her face in her mother's neck. Mrs. Ladue's eyes filled with tears. "My dearest little daughter!" she murmured, kissing her. "If only you could be happy! If only you didn't take things so to heart! Mother's own dear little girl!" She rose and spoke brightly. "Now, let's all go out into this lovely day and be happy together." Sally smiled. "Yes," she said, "we'll all be happy together. Don't you think, mother, that it will make your head better?" "Yes," replied Mrs. Ladue, "I think it will." So they went out to the trees and the river and the hills. But Sally did not skip. Charlie, it is to be noted, did; Charlie, who had said nothing about being happy. It is to be presumed that they were all ecstatically happy; for had they not assured one another that they would be? CHAPTER II It is to be feared that Professor Ladue had gone and done it again, as Sally said. Not that Sally knew what "it" was, nor did her mother know, either. Indeed, Mrs. Ladue made no inquiries concerning that point, being glad to put the most favorable construction possible upon the matter and, perhaps, afraid that she would not be able to do so if she knew any more. Perhaps, too, she realized that, unless she pursued her inquiries among comparative strangers, she would learn nothing. The professor would lie freely and skillfully, assuming that he considered it necessary or desirable to lie, and might be led to bully a little. Whatever course he might take, she would be no better off. So, as I said, she made no inquiries, which may have been wise or it may not; and she kept on hoping, although each occasion left her with less ground for any reasonable hope. At all events, Professor Ladue came back early the next afternoon in the most fiendish temper, which may have been due to excess in any of its customary forms. Whatever the exact cause, the effect was, apparently, to make him hate himself and everybody with whom he came in contact. Mrs. Ladue was aware of the state of mind that he would be in, from experience, I suppose; an experience which she did not seem at all anxious to repeat. Sally was aware of it, too, and even Charlie seemed to realize that any meeting with his father was to be avoided. So it happened that Professor Ladue found the way into the house and to his room unobstructed. His wife and his children were nowhere to be seen; which circumstance, in itself, annoyed him exceedingly, although it is probable that he would have found their presence equally annoying.