“You’re crazy!” said her sister. “What would you do in New York? And who’ll take care of Grandma?” “You.” “I shouldn’t dream of giving up my job.” “You’ll have to. I tell you, Frankie, I’m going to have my turn. I’ve stopped here a whole year while you’ve been in the city and I’m sick and tired of it. I’m _through_. I’m going!” “You can’t be such a beast. After I’ve just told you about Lionel.” “He can come out here to see you.” “He can’t. He’s too poor. He couldn’t pay the fare.” “Then you’d better not bother about him. You certainly couldn’t marry him if he’s as poor as that.” “Minnie, please be reasonable. I’ll just go back for a few weeks----” “You shan’t go back at all.” “I will! I won’t give in to your nonsense.” “It’s not nonsense; it’s justice. You’ve had a year and now I’m going to have a year. You didn’t care whether or not I wanted you to go, and now I don’t care whether you want me to go or not. I’m going.” Frances smiled scornfully. “I’ll go back as usual,” she said. “Oh, _will_ you! I’ve got a nice place myself.” “I don’t believe it! What sort of place?” “I’m going to be Aunt Irene’s companion,” she said calmly, “And I’m going to get just as much as you’re getting.” They fought it out passionately, forgot their dignity, forgot their love, raised their voices until the poor old lady at the end of the corridor heard them. They cried, too, tears of anger and hysteria; at last, from sheer exhaustion they fell asleep side by side in the bed they had slept in together for so many nights in harmony and affection, fell asleep hating each other, each utterly resolved upon her own way. VII But Minnie conquered. When Frances woke up, she found herself alone. Minnie had left a note on the pillow. “_Gone on the early train. Grandma knows all about it, and agrees with me that I am doing perfectly right._” BOOK TWO: FRANKIE’S BRIEF DAY CHAPTER NINE I Frankie was quite desperate with grief and anxiety. She rushed into the old lady’s room, bare-footed, in her nightdress, and denounced her in a storm of sobs. “How _could_ you!” she cried. “How _could_ you! How did you and Minnie dare to arrange my life for me that way?... You didn’t know.... You couldn’t know--what plans I had.... How _could_ you! You don’t know what you’ve done!” The old lady said that no great harm had been done. “It has! It has!” Frankie cried. “You don’t know! You’ve spoiled everything!” This the old lady didn’t believe; she asked for an explanation, and Frances would give none. “But Grandma!” she implored, “Grandma, trust me! Believe me when I say I’ve got to go back! It’s terribly important. It means my whole life. Oh, Grandma, please, _please_ write to Minnie and make her come home!” “My dear child, I can’t. She wouldn’t come. And I must say I think she’s entitled to a little---- Don’t you think you’re rather selfish, Frances?”