“Why shouldn't he go and see her to-morrow?” Cyrus said, and added a modest bad word; which made Gussie cry. And yet, in spite of what his wife called his “blasphemy,” Cyrus began to be vaguely uncomfortable whenever he saw his father put his pipe in his pocket and go across the street. And as the winter brightened into spring, the Captain went quite often. So, for that matter, did other old friends of Mrs. North's generation, who by and by began to smile at each other, and say, “Well, Alfred and Letty are great friends!” For, because Captain Price lived right across the street, he went most of all. At least, that was what Miss North said to herself with obvious common sense--until Mrs. Cyrus put her on the right track.... “What!” gasped Mary North. “But it's impossible!” “It would be very unbecoming, considering their years,” said Gussie; “but I worry so, because, you know, nothing is impossible when people are foolish; and of course, at their age, they are apt to be foolish.” So the seed was dropped. Certainly he did come very often. Certainly her mother seemed very glad to see him. Certainly they had very long talks. Mary North shivered with apprehension. But it was not until a week later that this miserable suspicion grew strong enough to find words. It was after tea, and the two ladies were sitting before a little fire. Mary North had wrapped a shawl about her mother, and given her a footstool, and pushed her chair nearer the fire, and then pulled it away, and opened and shut the parlor door three times to regulate the draught. Then she sat down in the corner of the sofa, exhausted but alert. “If there's anything you want, mother, you'll be sure and tell me?” “Yes, my dear.” “I think I'd better put another shawl over your limbs?” “Oh no, indeed!” “Are you _sure_ you don't feel a draught?” “No, Mary; and it wouldn't hurt me if I did!” “I was only trying to make you comfortable,--” “I know that, my dear; you are a very good daughter. Mary, I think it would be nice if I made a cake. So many people call, and--” “I'll make it to-morrow.” “Oh, I'll make it myself,” Mrs. North protested, eagerly; “I'd really enjoy--” “_Mother!_ Tire yourself out in the kitchen? No, indeed! Flora and I will see to it.” Mrs. North sighed. Her daughter sighed too; then suddenly burst out: “Old Captain Price comes here pretty often.” Mrs. North nodded, pleasantly. “That daughter-in-law doesn't half take care of him. His clothes are dreadfully shabby. There was a button off his coat to-day. And she's a foolish creature.” “Foolish? she's an unladylike person!” cried Miss North, with so much feeling that her mother looked at her in mild astonishment. “And coarse, too,” said Mary North; “I think married ladies are apt to be coarse. From association with men, I suppose.” “What has she done?” demanded Mrs. North, much interested. “She hinted that he--that you--” “Well?” “That he came here to--to see you.”