Georgia paused with her hand on the knob of the living room door, as she heard talking within, her mother's uninflected murmuring and a musical masculine voice, deeper than Al's. It must be Father Hervey, patient man, who came regularly once a fortnight, nominally to confer with Mrs. Talbot as to the activities of the ladies' advisory board of the children's summer-camp school. But his visits were less for the summer school than for mama, to cheer her in her feeble loneliness. Georgia slipped back to her own room, by way of the hall. An instinct has been growing in her of recent months to avoid falling into talk with the priest. He was so sure and strong and dominating; and she wanted to think for herself. Al was whistling loudly in his back little cubicle, performing sartorial miracles before his square pine-framed mirror, with a tall collar that lapped in front and a very Princeton tie, orange and black, broad stripes. She smiled reminiscently, regretfully, as she stood in the shadow and watched his gay evolutions through the partly opened door. He had so very much ahead of him that was behind her. He had the spring. "Why such splendor?" she asked finally. "Oh, I didn't know you were there. Why," he explained, amazed that explanation was necessary, "to-night is the big night. Our Bachelor's Dance. Don't you remember you were invited--as chaperone. I'm on the committee." "Hope you have a good time. Who are you taking?" He colored defiantly. "Annie Traeger." "Oh-ho, I thought it was Delia Williamson that you--" "It was, but she got too gay, so I thought I'd teach her a lesson." "Poor Delia," sighed Georgia, mischievously. "Oh, I'll have a dance or two with her," Al promised, putting on his coat and giving his hair a last pat with the tips of his fingers. He departed with the trill of a mocking bird. He had been a famous whistler from childhood. Georgia tiptoed to the door of the living room. There was no sound. Father Hervey must have gone. She turned the knob and went in. "Good evening, my child," said the priest, rising courteously and extending his hand. "I was resting a moment, hoping you might be home." "Good evening, Father. Thank you so much." "Your mother," he lowered his voice, "isn't as strong as her friends might hope, I'm afraid. She just had a faint spell, and she's in there now, lying down. It quite worried me, Georgia." "Yes, sometimes I'm afraid she won't get better." "She has told me she wished to resign from the advisory board of our summer school. That shows how she thinks she is. You know how much interest she always took in the work as long as she was able." "Yes--poor mama." "It would be a great comfort to her if you would take her place." "Me!" exclaimed Georgia, startled. "Yes. She is very anxious to keep it in the family, as it were," he explained, smiling. "Let's see," asked Georgia slowly, "who's on that board?" "Mrs. Conway."