They had gone. It was nine, and no Dr. Henrietta. Catherine fastened a net carefully over her coiled hair, brushed her hat, poking at the limp bow of ribbon, and then went slowly to the study, where Charles was rummaging through a drawer of his desk. "You have no classes this morning, have you?" she began. "No, I haven't. Do you know where I put that outline Miss Partridge left?" "Here it is." Catherine lifted it from beneath the evening paper. "Charles, Henry is coming in. She said as early as possible. I can't wait for her. Would you mind?" "What's she coming for? Isn't Letty all right?" "I don't know. She has a red spot. Henry thought she might have something--scarlatina----" "I thought they'd had 'em all, those red diseases." "Her fever is down. I think she's not sick. But Henrietta wanted to be sure. Would you mind--waiting till she comes?" "Stay here this morning?" Charles looked up, an abrupt frown between his eyes. "I can't, Catherine. I can't play baby tender. I've got a meeting." "So have I." Catherine stood immobile in the doorway. "A very important one. Those men from the West are here. At ten. I am to present the work I've been doing." "Can't Flora keep an eye on Letty till Henry comes?" "I think one of us ought to be here." "Good Lord, Catherine! I have to meet the committee on choice of dissertation subjects. Do you want me to telephone them that I have to stay home with the baby?" "You couldn't stay just an hour?" "Be reasonable, Catherine. I can't make myself ridiculous." "No?" Catherine stared at him an instant. Then she turned and left him. He followed her into the living room, where she stood at the window. "Call up your mother," he suggested. "She can probably drop in." "Why," said Catherine evenly, "does it make you more ridiculous than me? That dissertation committee meets a dozen times this fall. Letty is your child, isn't she? Don't tell me I'm her mother!" "I expected something of this sort, when you announced that you had to have a career." Charles walked briskly in front of her, stern and determined. "We might as well fight it out now. Do you want me to take your place? You said not. Do be reasonable." "I'm so reasonable it hurts." Catherine's laugh was brittle. "Go on, to your meeting. I'll stay, of course." "Well, really, I'm afraid you'll have to." Charles hesitated, and then added, gruffly, "It's unfortunate it happened just this way." His gesture washed his hands of the affair. As he strolled importantly out of the room, Catherine's hand doubled in a cold fist against her mouth. He can't see, she thought. There's no use talking.