"Sh-h! You'll wake Letty." Catherine's mind moved numbly over Spencer's city likes. "Spencer, you might think about Walter Thomas. You can see him soon----" "Well." Spencer sounded very doubtful. But Charles called her, and Catherine said good night to him and to Marian. It was Miss Kelly who had rung. Catherine sat down in the living room, brushing her hair away from her face, to which weariness had given a creamy pallor under the summer tan, and wished furiously that she was not so tired, that she could see into this rather plump, sandy, stubby person who sat opposite her, with calm, light blue eyes meeting her gaze. She looked efficient, if not imaginative. Well, the children had imagination enough, and if Henrietta thought Miss Kelly would do, surely she would. Charles had retired into his study. Miss Kelly folded her plump hands in her lap and looked down at her round, sensible shoes as Catherine spoke of Dr. Gilbert's high recommendation. She couldn't come before Monday. She liked nursing better, but the hours were so uncertain, and her mother needed her. Yes, she had cared for children before. She had always, for several years, had twenty-five dollars a week, when she lived in her own home. H-m, thought Catherine, that will make one large dent in my wages! But I must have someone, and I can't fill my place for nothing. So Monday morning, about eight. Too bad the children were in bed, but then on Monday Miss Kelly could see them. When Catherine had closed the door on the last descending glimpse of Miss Kelly's round face behind the elevator grill, she hurried back to the study. Charles looked up from his book. "Did you like her, Charles? You do think she looks capable?" "She has an air of honest worth." Charles laid aside his book. "Did you hire her?" Catherine nodded. "I shouldn't care to have you supplanted by that face, if I were Letty--or Spencer--or----" Catherine moved around to the desk to the side of his chair, her fingers twisting together in a nervous little gesture. "She looks sensible and good natured, and Henrietta says she is fine. I've got to try someone." "I suppose you must." Catherine, balancing on the edge of the desk, looked steadily at her husband. He was holding his thoughts away from her, out of his eyes. "It's mostly Letty, of course," she said. "The others will be in school." She sighed. "She can come Monday, the day I start." Then they were silent. Charles rubbed his thumb along the edge of his book, and Catherine watched him, her gray eyes heavy. No use talking about it to-night, when she was so tired. She pushed the affair away. "Poor Spencer is homesick for Maine," she said. "He wanted to know why he ached----" "He needs to get out with boys more," said Charles sharply. "He's too notional for a boy his age." Catherine felt a quick flicker of heat under her eyelids. Charles had said that before this summer. "I want him to be a man," he continued, "not a sentimental little fool."