Dick stood in the hall, a prey to remorse. Peggy was sick, and he had invited company to supper. He realized, with the fatal clearness, which so often accompanies an afterthought, that even if Peggy had not been suffering, the invitation was distinctly inconsiderate. With her school work, and the cares of the house on her shoulders, she was doing too much, at the best of times. Ordinarily Dick did not lack courage, but with his conscience against him the prospect of making a full acknowledgment to Peggy was an ordeal from which he shrank. After ten minutes of aimless waiting Dick pushed open the door and advanced into the kitchen on tiptoe, a relic of earlier days, when he had somehow formed the impression that not making a noise was equivalent to being good. Peggy turned her pale face in his direction. "Is that you, Dick? I wish--" She broke off, staring with surprise at her brother’s crestfallen figure. "Why, Dick? Is anything the matter?" [Illustration: "STARING WITH SURPRISE AT HER BROTHER’S CRESTFALLEN FIGURE."] "Yes." The one miserable word came out with uncompromising bluntness. Peggy was still staring. "But nothing much, is it, Dick?" "Yes." Dick had taken a surreptitious glance at his sister, and his burden of self-reproach had at once grown heavier. "It’s awful." Peggy’s thoughts flew to her mother. Or perhaps Dorothy had met with an accident. She was such a flyaway. Or could it be that Alice-- She dropped into a chair. "Tell me, Dick," she begged, her lips very white. "I--I hate to so I can’t." Shame made Dick’s voice tragic. Peggy’s fingers gripped the sides of her chair. Whatever had happened she must control herself. Like one in a dream she heard Dick floundering on. "Maybe something will happen yet, so--so it won’t be so bad." Dick was thinking hopefully that perhaps one of his invited guests would find himself unable to accept. "Go on," gasped Peggy. But her appearance, instead of encouraging Dick to confession, made it seem impossible. "I--I guess I’ll wait," he choked. "Maybe you’ll feel better before supper." Peggy’s strength returned with miraculous suddenness. She pounced upon her brother as he was about to escape. "Tell me now, Dick. I--I can bear it." "I--" Dick swallowed. "I asked Skits to supper." Peggy waited stupidly. "And Tom, too. I wanted to show ’em what a good cook you were." Another pause. "Go on," prompted a stifled voice. "What about mother?" It was Dick’s turn to be startled. "Mother? Why, has anything happened to mother?" Peggy’s wits were in working order again. "Dick Raymond, you don’t mean that you’ve almost scared me to death because you invited two boys to supper!" And then, reading in his face that she had hit the mark, Peggy’s overtaxed nerves played her false, and she sat down promptly on the floor, where she laughed and cried together.