"I took my letter to Miss Claire, before ever I sent it off, to make sure it was all right, an’ Gilroy’d know what I meant. Miss Claire laughed when she was through readin’ it. She said, it was surely all right, but what he’d read between the lines had illustrations, whatever that means. Anyhow, it stirred up Gilroy somethin’ fierce, an’——" Martha paused, the blood surged up to her face in a tide. "He wrote to me again. A whole lot o’ love-sick trash. I sent his letter back to’m (me keepin’ a copy) with just a gentle hint o’ warnin’ to the effec’ that if ever he done the like again, I’d tell you on’m, an’ we’d both of us come down to New York by the first train, an’ take a turn out of’m—first you, an’ then me _on your leavin’s_. Here’s the whole co-respondence, Sam. I’m glad to get rid of it. It was clutterin’ up my machine-drawer. But, p’raps, before you take it, to lock it away—Mrs. Peckett an’ Ma would like to examine it." Mrs. Peckett shook her head. "Then you’re satisfied I ain’t a callyope?" Martha asked her. "A _what_?" demanded Sam sharply. "A callyope. One o’ them things whistles on a boat, which, every oncet in a while we’d hear’m on the river, down home. Likewise, they mean coqwette." "You mean _siren_?" "Yes. Sure. They’re called both ways. Madam Crewe says all women are sirens. Then you’re satisfied I ain’t a siren, Mrs. Peckett?" Mrs. Peckett inclined her head, smiling with easy patronage. Martha regarded her narrowly for a moment. "I see you _ain’t_ satisfied!" "I certainly am, so far as Mr. Gilroy is concerned, but——" Sam got upon his feet in a manner to cause Mrs. Peckett to come to a sudden halt. "I know what she means, Sam. Keep cool, an’ let me handle this, which I’m the only one can, anyhow. You’d like to know the name o’ the party I wrote them letters to, you an’ Ma amused yourselves playin’ puzzles with? Well, I’ll tell you his name. It’s Dr. Ballard, an’ even _you_ couldn’t be so much of a looney as think _Dr. Ballard_ would give a second thought to the likes o’ me, that I’d be writin’ love-letters to’m, much less him wastin’ time to read’m, let alone write me back. "Before he went away, Dr. Ballard told me, he’d a likin’ for this place an’ every mother’s son in it, which, _I s’pose_, that means you, too, an’ he ast would I write’m, to tell how things was goin’ on, an’ if Miss Claire an’ the baby was gettin’ on, an’ how Buller was comin’ along. I promised I would. An’ I kep’ my promise, an’ I’m goin’ to keep on keepin’ it. Any objection?" Mrs. Peckett signified she had none. "Then all that remains is to say good-by," said Martha gravely, rising and standing with quiet dignity beside her husband. Mrs. Peckett took a step toward the door. Then abruptly she turned and extended her hand to Martha. Sam Slawson shook his head. "No, you don’t!" he forbade decidedly.