"Perhaps," returned Mrs. Dobbs drily. "People are unreasonably sensitive sometimes, are they not? As for me, it never entered into my head to think of my father's marrying again; but now I do think of it, it seems to me that it would be a very good thing." "Its goodness or badness would depend, of course, on--circumstances." "I do really think more and more that it would be a good thing, granny. Papa must have many lonely hours, you know. He likes Continental life best, to be sure; but still he is far away from his own country and his own people. It seems almost selfish in us not to have thought of it _for_ him. Oh, I hope she is a nice, kind woman, who will be good to him and take care of him. I think I ought to write at once and assure him that I have no grudge in my heart about it. And I'm sure you have none either; have you, granny dear?" Mrs. Dobbs found it at once more painful and more difficult than she had foreseen to breathe degrading suspicions into this frank, pure mind. But it was necessary not to allow May to cherish what might prove to be disastrous illusions. "It isn't all such plain sailing, May," she answered slowly. "I will write to your father, and you had better wait for his reply. We don't know that he is married at all. And if he is, we don't know that there's much to be glad about. They do say that the lady is not a fit match for your father." "_He_ is the best judge of that, I should think," returned May. Then she added, her young face flushing with a generous impulse, "I dare say people may have said the same of my own dear mother." "No, May. No one ever said of your own dear mother what is said of this woman." There was a sternness in her grandmother's voice and face which startled the girl. "What do they say, granny?" she asked quickly. Mrs. Dobbs checked herself. "Oh, I cannot tell you exactly. There are lots of stories about. Some will have it that--her character is not quite blameless." "_Who_ dares to say so of my father's wife?" "Hush! May. There's no need to call her your father's wife yet. Signor Valli says the person in question----" "Signor Valli? Then I don't believe a word of it. Not one word. I know he talks wildly, and jumps at things. Why, he told Clara Bertram that my mother was a foreigner, and that he had met her. So you see how accurate and trustworthy Signor Valli is." Then, after a moment, as if struck by a sudden thought, she asked, "Is--_she_ a foreigner?" "I believe so." "Then that is what he meant, I suppose." "It's right to tell you, May, that Signor Valli is not the only one who has heard disagreeable things."