He offered to pay for any course of treatment, for sending her away. But Minnie said, sharply, that it wasn’t necessary; she would outgrow her weakness; there wasn’t any reason for making such a fuss about it. He saw with amazement that this child whom she had formerly idolised was now the object of an unmistakable resentment which he could not comprehend. He wouldn’t have believed that it was jealousy; that as the child became a woman she became, to the instinctive female within Minnie, a rival. She was always trying to turn the talk away from Sandra to Robert. _He_ was clever, _he_ was obedient, he was, she said, altogether a comfort to her. At last he came in from school, and Mr. Petersen ever afterward regretted his visit. If he could only have kept the memory of his stalwart tiny son, with his clear blue eyes and his gleeful smile! This Robert was a pale, heavy boy of eleven or twelve, lazy, complacent, maddeningly adult in manner. He sat down with the conscious intention of entertaining this visitor, told him things he had read in the papers. It was evident he did not know he was speaking to his father. Mr. Petersen gave him some money, and in his heart completely disowned him. Then he looked once more at _her_, a long, long look. “Good-bye, Minnie!” he said. Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: the cultured spinister, Miss Vanderhof=> the cultured spinster, Miss Vanderhof {pg 60} respecting his Southerness=> respecting his Southernness {pg 80}