George looked morose, but began to move in the desired direction. “I’m comin’,” he muttered, and was so gross as to add, under his breath, “Doggone you!” However, he went across the street; and then Mrs. Sullender, benevolently leading the two children by the hand, nodded again to Bella with a sweetness that was evident even at a distance, and reëntered the house, taking George and the tiny Natalie with her. Bella remained upon her knees, staring violently at the “Sullender Home,” and her thoughts were centred upon her husband. “Just _wait_ till he gets here!” she thought. But she saved her triumph until after dinner, when he had made himself comfortable upon the lounge in their tiny “living-room” and seemed to be in good content with his briar pipe. “I had a caller after you left, this morning,” she informed him sunnily. “Who was it?” “Mr. George M. Sullender.” “So? That’s odd,” said Sperry. “I saw him starting down-town in his car just before I did. How did he happen to come back here?” “He didn’t. This was Mr. George M. Sullender, Junior.” “Who’s that?” “Their little boy,” said Bella. “You’ve seen him playing in their yard with the little sister.” “Oh, yes. Did his mother send him over on an errand?” “No. He came to see if I’d found any ‘nice worms’,” Bella said, and added, in a carefully casual tone, but with a flashing little glance from the corner of her eye: “He said _some_ worms must be nice because Mrs. Sullender is in the habit of calling Mr. Sullender a worm, and Georgie thinks his father is nice.” Young Mr. Sperry took his pipe from his mouth and looked at his wife incredulously. “What did you say about Mrs. Sullender’s calling Mr. Sullender——” “A ‘worm,’ William,” said Bella. “She calls him a ‘worm,’ William, because he doesn’t make even more money than he does, poor man. The child really hates his mother: he never once spoke of her as ‘mamma’ but he always said ‘my papa’ when he mentioned Mr. Sullender. I think I must have misjudged that poor creature a little, by the way. Of course he _is_ pompous, but I think his pomposity is probably just assumed to cover up his agony of mind. He has a recent scar that his wife put on his head, too, to cover up.” “Bella!” “Yes,” she said reflectively. “I think he’s mainly engaged in covering things up, poor thing. Of course he does _strike_ his sweet-woman, now and then, when he finds her at the movies with gentlemen he doesn’t approve of; but one can hardly blame him, considering the life she leads him. It was last week, though, when they had their _big_ fight, I understand—with the children looking on.” But at this, William rose to his feet and confronted her. “What on earth are you talking about, Bella?”