"No, except when Billy Stark comes,--and he won't come again. Electra's going, too." "Abroad?" "Yes. She's going abroad. At once, it seems. Rose MacLeod!" Rose looked up from her papers. "What was it about your father that put the devil into people?" Rose answered with an unsmiling candor. "I don't know, Madam Fulton." "But you know what I mean?" "He had great personal power." "You are not in mourning for him?" She had been considering the girl's dress and its fluttering ribbons. Rose returned with dignity,-- "I am not in mourning." "Well, Electra is. She hasn't put on black, but it's all over her. She's perfectly shameless. I asked her this morning why she was hurrying her sailing, and she said it was because he would wish it. There were things to do for him." "That he would wish it?" "Your father. Don't you see? She's got an idea that she's his earthly vicegerent, and there's some majestic poppycock about the Brotherhood. I can't understand it, and I don't want to. All I know is, she's mad. Bessie Grant, when I told the Lord I wanted things to happen, I didn't mean this kind, and He knew it perfectly well." Rose had risen and stood in grave attention. "Oh, she mustn't do that," she said earnestly. "I must tell her." "Well, go and tell her, then," said the old lady, turning back to Mrs. Grant. "If you can make her listen, you'll do more than I can. I ought to chaperon her, though you might as well chaperon the Lion of Lucerne. Bessie!" And then as Rose left the room, she bent forward, and leaned her head on grannie's breast. "Bessie," she repeated, "it's a miserable world." To grannie all ages were as one. The old and the young were alike defenseless, when they were in trouble, and she put her arms about the frail creature and held her warmly. "Hush, dear!" she said, and forgot this was not one of her own children. "Mother's sorry." Then they both smiled a little, but grannie went on: "You must come right here, you know. Electra will be gone, and Billy, and you don't want to carry on the house alone. You come here, dear, and stay with me." "Could I?" Madam Fulton lifted her tear-wet face. "If I could stay here a little while, maybe I might pull myself together. I don't know how to do it, Bessie. I don't know how to live. I never did."