"What is it, Uncle George?" cried Susan, amazed. "What have I done?" Warham looked sternly grieved. "Brownie," he reproached, "you mustn't deceive. Go to your aunt." She found her aunt seated stiffly in the living-room, her hands folded upon her stomach. So gradual had been the crucial middle-life change in Fanny that no one had noted it. This evening Susan, become morbidly acute, suddenly realized the contrast between the severe, uncertain-tempered aunt of today and the amiable, altogether and always gentle aunt of two years before. "What is it, aunt?" she said, feeling as if she were before a stranger and an enemy. "The whole town is talking about your disgraceful doings this morning," Ruth's mother replied in a hard voice. The color leaped in Susan's cheeks. "Yesterday I forbade you to see Sam Wright again. And already you disobey." "I did not say I would not see him again," replied Susan. "I thought you were an honest, obedient girl," cried Fanny, the high shrill notes in her voice rasping upon the sensitive, the now morbidly sensitive, Susan. "Instead--you slip away from the house and meet a young man--and permit him to take _liberties_ with you." Susan braced herself. "I did not go to the cemetery to meet him," she replied; and that new or, rather, newly revived tenacity was strong in her eyes, in the set of her sweet mouth. "He saw me on the way and followed. I did let him kiss me--once. But I had the right to." "You have disgraced yourself--and us all." "We are going to be married." "I don't want to hear such foolish talk!" cried Mrs. Warham violently. "If you had any sense, you'd know better." "He and I do not feel as you do about my mother," said the girl with quiet dignity. Mrs. Warham shivered before this fling. "Who told you?" she demanded. "It doesn't matter; I know." "Well, miss, since you know, then I can tell you that your uncle and I realize you're going the way your mother went. And the whole town thinks you've gone already. They're all saying, 'I told you so! I told you so! Like her mother!'" Mrs. Warham was weeping hysterical tears of fury. "The whole town! And it'll reflect on my Ruth. Oh, you miserable girl! Whatever possessed me to take pity on you!" Susan's hands clutched until the nails sunk into the palms. She shut her teeth together, turned to fly. "Wait!" commanded Mrs. Warham. "Wait, I tell you!" Susan halted in the doorway, but did not turn. "Your uncle and I have talked it over." "Oh!" cried Susan. Mrs. Warham's eyes glistened. "Yes, he has wakened up at last. There's one thing he isn't soft about----" "You've turned him against me!" cried the girl despairingly. "You mean _you_ have turned him against you," retorted her aunt. "Anyhow, you can't wheedle him this time. He's as bent as I am. And you must promise us that you won't see Sam again." A pause. Then Susan said, "I can't."