There came another knock at the door. This time I made no answer. I did not want to see anyone. But the door opened, nevertheless, and Hephzy came in. She crossed the room and stood by my chair. “What is it, Hosy?” she said, gently. “You must tell me all about it.” I made some answer, told her to go away and leave me, I think. If that was it she did not heed. She put her hand upon my shoulder. “You must tell me, Hosy,” she said. “What has happened? You and Frances have had some fallin' out, I know. She wouldn't come to dinner, either, and she won't see me. She's up in her room with the door shut. Tell me, Hosy; you and I have fought each other's battles for a good many years. You can't fight this one alone; I've got to do my share. Tell me, dearie, please.” And tell her I did. I did not mean to, and yet somehow the thought that she was there, so strong and quiet and big-hearted and sensible, was, if not a comfort to me, at least a marvelous help. I began by telling her a little and then went on to tell her all, of my talk with Lady Carey, my meeting with Heathcroft, the scene with Frances--everything, word for word. When it was over she patted my shoulder. “You did just right, Hosy,” she said. “There was nothin' else you could do. I never liked that Heathcroft man. And to think of him, engaged to another girl, trottin' around with Frances the way he has. I'D like to talk with him. He'd get a piece of MY mind.” “He's all right enough,” I admitted grudgingly. “He took my warning in a very good sort, I must say. He has never meant anything serious. It was just his way, that's all. He was amusing himself in her company, and doubtless thought she would be flattered with his aristocratic attentions.” “Humph! Well, I guess she wouldn't be if she'd known of that other girl. You didn't tell her that, you say.” “I couldn't. I think I should, perhaps, if she would have listened. I'm glad I didn't. It isn't a thing for me to tell her.” “I understand. But she ought to know it, just the same. And she ought to know how good you've been to her. Nobody could be better. She must know it. Whether she goes or whether she doesn't she must know that.” I seized her arm. “You mustn't tell her a word,” I cried. “She mustn't know. It is better she should go. Better for her and for me--My God, yes! so much better for me.” I could feel the arm on my shoulder start. Hephzy bent down and looked into my face. I tried to avoid the scrutiny, but she looked and looked. Then she drew a long breath. “Hosy!” she exclaimed. “Hosy!” “Don't speak to me. Oh, Hephzy,” with a bitter laugh, “did you ever dream there could be such a hopeless lunatic as I am! You needn't say it. I know the answer.” “Hosy! Hosy! you poor boy!” She kissed me, soothing me as she had when I came home to our empty house at the time of my mother's death. That memory came back to me even then.