It was a rather awkward boy who came home from college for his summer vacation. He had not seen his native place since the autumn before, and the letters which had told him he must remain at college, and which had disclosed most tenderly the fall in the family’s fortunes had been worded so carefully that he had not realized the full force of what had happened and had chafed at his exile as if it were not inevitable. The first sight he had of his mother waiting on the platform brought it all home to him. Her dress told more than any words could have conveyed. He made a brave effort to be bright and took care not to stare round him at the ugly walls of the cramped and unfamiliar house, nor to look too curiously at the furnishings. The gaps in the old belongings struck a chill to his heart, but he chattered away about the college life to which he was to return, and over their painfully frugal supper all were as cheery as old. The talk was a trifle nervous and there was an anxiety to let no pause occur, but nothing marred the warm greeting which had been made ready for him and the meal ended naturally. The afternoon of talk had exhausted most of what the greeters and the greeted had to ask and answer and after they left the table the boy slipped into the entry and was hunting for his cap among a litter of coats and capes, with a sick longing for the old hall-piece and a strong distaste for the plain little walnut hat-tree. The mother slipped out after him, shut the door noiselessly behind her and asked: “Where are you going, dear?” “To see Milly, of course,” the boy answered. “Has she written to you lately?” his mother queried. “We haven’t written to each other at all,” he said. “I hate to write letters, and it would make so much less for us to tell each other afterwards.” “You mustn’t go there, Jack,” she said, putting her hand lightly on his shoulder with a caressing gesture. “Why not?” he asked hotly, the blood rushing to his face. “You know they have nothing to do with us any more, dear, since your father and Mr. Wareham quarrelled.” “I didn’t know it. You haven’t told me anything about what has happened. And even if they have nothing to do with us, that wouldn’t make any difference between Milly and me.” “Isn’t it natural she should come to feel as her father and brother feel?” the mother suggested tremulously. “You mean she wouldn’t see me if I went,” he demanded, and he was growing vexed and defiant. “I did not mean that, dear. But her father might not allow her to see you, and Albert always disliked you. And now they all hate all of us.” “Why should they hate us? What have we done to them?” “It was that selfish man ruined your father and people always hate those they have wronged. Please don’t go, Jack.” The boy twisted his cap in his hands and forced back his tears. He was silent a moment and then he kissed his mother. “It’s all right, mother dear,” he said, “I’ll go somewhere else. Thank you for warning me.”