The next evening as she swung her car up to the curb, Eveley found him waiting. "I'm afraid I'll have to give it up," he said, and added apologetically, "I thought since you didn't want it, I might take it myself. But if I went away they'd think I was dissatisfied, and maybe they hadn't been good to me or something. I wouldn't like to hurt their feelings." "Can't you pretend you hate to leave, but you feel it is your duty?" Eveley almost choked on the word, but she knew it would be only folly to explain her advanced ideas to this kindly conscientious soul. "You tell them that you think it is your solemn duty to go and leave them alone, and that you can't be happy unless you are doing your duty. Tell them that honeymooners need to be alone." "That's a good idea. I'll try it on them right away." When he timidly, then enthusiastically pressed his case, Mrs. Severs, seeing in his sudden determination to do his duty the happy fruition of Eveley's plan, voiced only a few polite words of mild protest, but her husband was flat-footed and vociferous in his objections. "Just cut out the nonsense, dad, and behave yourself. It is your duty to stay here where you belong, and you can stick around and get used to it. You can't go off by yourself, and that settles it." "I wouldn't be lonesome," said his father meekly. "I could get along. And I could come and visit you. I think--maybe--I'd like it pretty good." "Oh, I'm on to you, dad. You just say that because you think it would be better for us. Why, you'd be lonely as the deuce." And he went off into the other room and considered the subject closed. Late that night, Mrs. Severs ran up the stairs. "Eveley, he really asked to go, but Dody wouldn't hear of it. And I do feel ashamed of myself. We can't turn the poor old fellow out. It would not be right. Just let it go, and I'll try to get used to it. He really is a dear old thing." "Listen here, Mrs. Severs, do you mean that you are selfish enough to keep that poor old man here with you spooners when he really wants to be off alone where he can fish and cook and roam around to his heart's content? Can't you see it is your plain duty to make him go where he can live his own life? I--I am surprised at you." "Oh! You think--you mean--maybe he would be happier?" "Why, of course he would. And it is your duty to deny yourselves in order to make him happy." "Oh, I see." Mrs. Severs was quite radiant. "Talk to Dody about it, will you? He wants to do his duty, but he sees it the other way round." "Leave him to me." Some time later, Father-in-law himself crept softly up the stairway and tapped on the window. "Hist," he whispered. "It's no good. Andy won't hear of it. Can't you think of something?" "Leave him to me," she said again. "I am the original little fixer, and I'll attend to Andrew Dody."