Something in his son's voice caused the old workman to look at him steadily, as he answered, "John probably came by on his way to the Mill and dropped in for a few minutes." "I suppose so," returned Charlie. Then, "Father, do you think it wise for sister to be so much with John?" The old workman laid aside his paper. "Why, I don't know--I hadn't thought much about it, son. It seems natural enough, considering the way you children was all raised together when you was youngsters." "It's natural enough all right," returned Captain Charlie, and, with a bitterness that was very unlike his usual self, he added, "That's the hell of it--it's too natural--too human--too right for this day and age." Pete Martin's mind worked rather slowly but he was fully aroused now--Charlie's meaning was clear. "What makes you think that Mary and John are thinking of each other in that way, son?" "How could they help it?" returned Captain Charlie. "Sister is exactly the kind of woman that John would choose for a wife. Don't I know what he thinks of the light-headed nonentities in the set that he is supposed to belong to? Hasn't he demonstrated his ideas of class distinctions? It would never occur to him that there was any reason why John Ward should not love Mary Martin. As for sister--when you think of the whole story of their childhood together, of how John and I were all through the war, of how he has been in the Mill since we came home, of their seeing each other here at the house so much, of the way he has been helping her with her work among the poor in the Flats--well, how could any woman like sister help loving him?" While the older man was considering his son's presentation of the case, Captain Charlie added, with characteristic loyalty, "God may have made finer men than John Ward, but if He did they don't live around Millsburgh." "Well, then, son," said Peter Martin, with his slow smile, "what about it? Suppose they are thinking of each other as you say?" Captain Charlie did not answer for a long minute. And the father, watching, saw in that strong young face the shadow of a hurt which the soldier workman could not hide. "It is all so hopeless," said Charlie, at last, in a tone that told more clearly than words could have done his own hopelessness. "I--it don't seem right for Mary to have to bear it, too." "I'm sorry, son," was all that the old workman said, but Captain Charlie knew that his father understood. After that they did not speak until they heard an automobile stop in front of the house. "That must be Mary now," said Pete, looking at his watch. "They have never been so late before." They heard her step on the porch. The sound of the automobile died away in the distance. When Mary came in and they saw her face, they knew that Charlie was right. She tried to return their greetings in her usual manner but failed pitifully and hurried on to her room. The two men looked at each other without a word.