Maud came in shortly, hearing no response to her knock, and after hanging some towels on the rack went out without seeing the sleeper. In the sitting-room she met Ed Brann. He was a stalwart young man with curling black hair, and a heavy face at its best, but set and sullen now. His first words held a menace: "Say, Maud, I want t' talk to you." "Very well; what is it, Ed?" replied the girl, quietly. "I want to know how often you're going to be out till twelve o'clock with this book agent?" Perhaps it was the derisive inflection on "book agent" that woke Albert. Brann's tone was brutal--more brutal even than his words, and the girl turned pale and her breath quickened. "Why, Ed, what's the matter?" "Matter is just this: you ain't got any business goin' around with that feller with my ring on your finger, that's all." He ended with an unmistakable threat in his voice. "Very well," said the girl, after a pause, curiously quiet; "then I won't; here's your ring." The man's bluster disappeared instantly. Bert could tell by the change in his voice, which was incredibly great, as he pleaded: "Oh, don't do that, Maud; I didn't mean to say that; I was mad--I'm sorry." "I'm _glad_ you did it _now_, so I can know you. Take your ring, Ed; I never 'll wear it again." Albert had heard all this, but he did not know how the girl looked as she faced the man. In the silence which followed she scornfully passed him and went out into the kitchen. Brann went out and did not return at supper. Young people of this sort are not self-analysts, and Maud did not examine closely into causes. She was astonished to find herself more indignant than grieved. She broke into an angry wail as she went to her mother's bosom: "Mother! mother!" "Why, what's the matter, Maudie? Tell me. There, there! don't cry, pet! Who's been hurtin' my poor little bird?" "Ed has; he said--he said--" "There, there! poor child! Have you been quarrelling again? Never mind; it'll come out all right." "No, it won't--not the way you mean," the girl declared. "I've given him back his ring, and I'll never wear it again." The mother could not understand with what wounding brutality the man's tone had fallen upon the girl's spirit, and Maud could not explain sufficiently to justify herself. Mrs. Welsh consoled herself with the idea that it was only a lover's quarrel--one of the little jars sure to come when two natures are settling together--and that all would be mended in a day or two. Albert, being no more of a self-analyst than Maud, simply said, "Served him right," and dwelt no more upon it for the time. At supper, however, he was extravagantly gay, and to himself unaccountably so. He joked Troutt till Maud begged him to stop, and after the rest had gone he remained seated at the table, enjoying the indignant color in her face and the flash of her infrequent smile, which it was such a pleasure to provoke. He volunteered to help wash the dishes.