Then she darted back into the room, caught her mother’s head in her slim arms, snuggled her little powdered nose into her neck. “Oh, mamma, I’m all right. I’m just so full of pep to-night I’m--I’m snappy. Don’t you worry, darling.” And licking her scarlet lips, glancing once more into the mirror of the old-fashioned sideboard, she was off--a humming bird caught in a mysterious gale. Then appeared Aunt Jude, her jacket over her arm, the tray in her hands. Her dark eyes were feverishly bright, but her face looked pale and strained. Would they mind just cocking an ear now and then toward Mother’s room? She would probably drop off to sleep soon, though she had made up her mind she wouldn’t. “But I must go to-night,” she said, “just to-night. Perhaps after this I--won’t be going out Tuesday and Thursday evenings.” She stood still, staring down at the tray she had put on the kitchen table. Then she threw up her head with the familiar defiant movement, made a sound as if of scorn at her own weakness, and shrugging herself into her old blue serge jacket, she, too, darted out into the evening. Eddie stood by the window. He stooped to look up at the dark blue of the night sky--a gesture habitual with him--fiddled wistfully for a long moment with the shade, and then pulled it down as if resolutely shutting something out. But a moment or two later he took his hat down from the hall rack, muttered to his mother “Be back early,” and slid out the front door, as if suddenly afraid of being late for something. The house fell silent. Alyse’s mother put a dark-red spread on the dining-room table and placed her darning basket under the light. “Now this is cozy,” she said happily. “We’ll have time for a nice visit. Tell me about your work, dear. I’ve been hoping maybe you’d feel like coming home to stay as soon as you’d got some material to work on. Of course, I understand,” she added humbly, “you have to have something to inspire you.” “That’s exactly it, Mother. I must know interesting persons. It’s very important to be stimulated. Sometimes I’ve thought that if I could only go to Russia or Austria or some place where there is a sense of crisis, a--a vividness, you know; strife of souls. That’s what I want to study. You see, Mother? And of course, here at home----” Her mother sighed. “I know we’re all pretty ordinary, and nothing much happens, here at home.” She looked apologetic, as if she realized the family’s limitations and wished she could offer something more interesting to her talented daughter. She dropped the old darning egg into the heel of a sock. The homely house was very quiet. And a few miles farther south Milly was running breathlessly up the Subway stairs, an eager, half-frightened Proserpine coming up from the bowels of the earth into flowery meadows, into the glare of the electric flowers of Broadway.