“I see,” she said. “You had to come to it, after all, didn’t you. I suppose likely I was the one who put the idea in your head, so I ought to take the responsibility.” “No, you needn’t. I’ll take it myself. I should have thought of some such thing, sooner or later, without your help. But I’m much obliged for the reminder, just the same.” Again she looked up. “Too much company up your way, wasn’t there?” she suggested. “Too darned much, of the kind. That young Griffin has got as much cheek as his whole family together. And that doesn’t mean a little bit.... Humph! I’m a long sea mile from being sure that I ought to have let him come there in the first place. You were responsible for that, too, Reliance. Remember?” “Of course I remember. But you must remember that I told you unless he and Esther were different from most any young couple I ever heard of they would find ways to see each other anyhow, and it might be best to let them meet where you were within hailin’ distance. I think I was right--even yet.” “What do you mean by ‘even yet’?” “Nothing. Nothing now, at any rate. Foster, how far has this affair of theirs gone? Are they--well, do you think they are any more than just good friends?” “Eh,” sharply. “Any more? Now why do you ask that. If I thought--” “Ssh! What _do_ you think?... Careful of that chair! That’s Abbie’s pet rocker.” He had thrown himself back in it with a violence which threatened wreck and ruin. “How should I know what to think?” he growled, moodily. “He comes three times a week and stays till eleven o’clock. And they sit alone in the sitting-room and talk, talk, talk about-- Oh, I don’t know what they talk about! The price of quahaugs, maybe.” “Maybe.” She glanced at him and smiled. “You go away and leave them there together, then, do you, Foster?” she said. “Well, that is pretty nice of you, I must say. And, perhaps, kind of hard to do, too.” He stirred uneasily and scowled. “Did you think I was likely to hang around and listen at the keyhole?” he demanded. “Not the least little bit. I know you.... Well, let me ask you a plain question. Suppose she and Bob Griffin did get to be something more than friends; what would you do then?” His big body straightened. “Do!” he repeated. “If you mean what would I do if she proposed to marry that scamp. I’ll tell you without any if, and, or but. I’ve told you before. I wouldn’t let her do it.” “She might do it without your lettin’.” “Then, by the Almighty, she could do without me, too. If she left my house to marry him she should stay out and never come back.... But she wouldn’t. She isn’t that kind.... Here! what the devil are you shaking your head about?” “Oh--well, I was just thinkin’.”