"So the episode is closed, Mary," said Sidney, simply. "And the next time--if there is a next time!--Peter shall make his own decision, and abide by what it brings. The mug goes back to its place to-night, and--and we're going to tell mother that she never need watch and wait and worry about us again!" They turned to the steps; but, as the boy ran ahead, Sidney came back to say in a lower tone: "I--it may be weakness, Mary, but I can't have Jean doing what--what SHE did, you know! I tried to give the boy some idea, just now, of the responsibility of it. Nobody spared my grandmother, but Jean SHALL be spared, if I never try to control him or save him from himself again!" "Ah, Sidney," Mary said, "you have done more, in taking him into your confidence, than any amount of punishing could do!" "Well, we'll see!" he said, with a weary little shrug. "I must go to Jeanie now." As he mounted the steps, Peter reappeared in the darkened doorway. The child looked like a little knight, with his tawny loose mop of hair and short tunic, and the uplifted look in his lovely eyes. "Shall we go to her now, Dad?" said the little treble gallantly. And, as the boy came close to Sidney's side, Mary saw the silver mug glitter in his hand. MAKING ALLOWANCES FOR MAMMA At the head of her own breakfast table,--a breakfast table charmingly littered with dark-blue china and shining glass, and made springlike by a great bowl of daisies,--Mary Venable sat alone, trying to read her letters through a bitter blur of tears. She was not interested in her letters, but something must be done, she thought desperately, to check this irresistible impulse to put her head down on the table and cry like a child, and uninteresting letters, if she could only force her eyes to follow the lines of them, and her brain to follow the meaning, would be as steadying to the nerves as anything else. Cry she would NOT; for every reason. Lizzie, coming in to carry away the plates, would see her, for one thing. It would give her a blazing headache, for another. It would not help her in the least to solve the problem ahead of her, for a third and best. She must think it out clearly and reasonably, and--and--Mary's lip began to quiver again, she would have to do it all alone. Mamma was the last person in the world who could help her, and George wouldn't. For of course the trouble was Mamma again, and George-- Mary wiped her eyes resolutely, finished a glass of water, drew a deep great breath. Then she rang for Lizzie, and carried her letters to the shaded, cool little study back of the large drawing-room. Fortified by the effort this required, she sank comfortably into a deep chair, and began to plan sensibly and collectedly. Firstly, she reread Mamma's letter.