"Huh, no fear! He won't live to be a fossil. His troubles will kill him off early, or I lose my guess.... So, that's your excuse for ruining him, is it?" "I'd help him, if he'd let me," Cicily answered, sadly, forgetful of her indignation against the sex. "You help him!" Delancy exclaimed, mockingly. "Why, you brought on the strike." "But--" Cicily would have protested, only to be interrupted by the indignant old gentleman, who shook an accusing forefinger at her. "You can't tell me! Yes, you did, with your impertinent interference. Huh! When women get to fooling with business, we shall all go to the dogs. Why, if it hadn't been for you and for what you did with your precious 'helping,' Charles would have had a chance to make good money. Now, Morton and Carrington are charging the independent dealers twenty-two cents a box. But for this strike, Charles might have induced those old pirates to raise their price to him a little, and let him make some money.... Help him--oh, piffle!" "Well," Cicily declared, not a whit abashed, "if I were Charles, I'd start up again, pay wages, and sell to the independents." The seriousness with which the young woman spoke for a moment betrayed Delancy into discussing business with one of the unintelligent sex. "But his contracts!" he objected. "What are contracts," Cicily interrupted serenely, "when the workmen are hungry?" "There, Emma!" Delancy cried, in deep disgust. "Do you hear? Now, isn't that just like a woman?" "Yes, James," Mrs. Delancy answered meekly; "I know that you're right. But, somehow, I think Cicily, too, is right." At this paradoxical pronouncement, Delancy stared fixedly at his wife in stark amazement. "What!" he gasped. "What! After forty years, you say that to me! You question my business judgment! Emma, you, my wife!" He struggled wildly for a few seconds to gain control of his emotions. "No," he continued bitterly; "I deserve it for forgetting myself. I beg my own pardon for mentioning a word of business to a woman.... I'm going to Charles--poor fellow!" After a long, resentful stare directed against his former ward, he marched out of the room. "See what you've made me do!" Mrs. Delancy said accusingly to her niece, as the two were left alone together. "Why, I've actually appeared rebellious to James." "You ought to have been so years ago," Cicily rejoined, stubbornly. But Mrs. Delancy could only shake her head morosely in negation of this audacious idea. Then, her thoughts reverted to the young woman's doubtful position. "How is it all going to end?" was her despondent query. "You mean, when are Charles and I going to make public the true state of affairs? When are we going to part before the world?" The old lady nodded acquiescence. "Well, that will be when the strike is over, and Charles's business troubles are settled--not before."