“Go away.” Wint chuckled comfortingly. “I’m not going away,” he said. “This is the time your friends will stick by you. I’m going to stick by you.” “I don’t want you to,” she said. “I don’t want any one to. Go away. Let me alone. Let me do what I want to.” Wint said: “You mustn’t think this is too desperately hopeless, Hetty. I’m going to do anything I can; and mother will take care of you.” She lifted her head at that and looked at him and laughed in a hard, disillusioned way. “A lot you know about women, Wint,” she said. “I know that you think things are darker than they are,” he assured her. “You’ll see. We’ll manage. Mother and I.” “Your mother’ll order me out of the house, minute she knows,” said Hetty unemotionally. Wint protested. “No; you don’t know her. Mother couldn’t hurt any one. You’ll see. She’ll do everything.” Hetty got up and went to work on the dishes like an automaton. She had to busy herself with something, or she would have screamed. She was trembling, hysterically astir. Wint watched her for a little; then he said: “You’re going to let us help you.” “All the help I’ll get will be a kick,” she said. “Your mother won’t want the like of me in her house.” “You don’t know her,” he insisted. “Mother’s fine, underneath. She’s always doing things for people. You’ll see.” Hetty looked at him sideways, smiling a little. “You never would believe anything was so till you’d tried it, Wint,” she told him. “But you’re pretty decent, just the same.” He said, studying her: “You’re looking better already. Feeling better?” She nodded. “It helps some--just to tell some one,” she admitted. “And the spell is over, anyway.” “Having friends always helps,” he told her. “You’ll find it so.” She smiled wistfully; and he went on: “I’m going to speak to mother to-night.” Hetty said: “Well, she’s got a right to know. I’ll pack up my things.” “After Mrs. Hullis goes.” “Why not tell her, too? Your mother will, first thing in the morning.” Wint laughed. “You like to look at the black side, don’t you? I tell you, it’s going to be all right.” She whirled to face him, and said, under her breath, with a terrible earnestness: “All right? All right? If you say that again, I’ll yell at you. You poor, nice, straight fool of a kid. You talk like I was a baby that had stubbed its toe. And all the time, I’d better be dead, dead. This is no stubbed toe, Wint. Wake up. Don’t be a--” And abruptly she collapsed again, weeping, into the chair. Wint said insistently: “Just the same, Hetty, you’ll see I know what I’m talking about. Things will come out better than you think.” She cried: “Oh, get out of here. Get out of here. You poor little fool.” Wint went up to his room. Mrs. Hullis was still with his mother. He would wait till Mrs. Hullis was gone. CHAPTER XIII THE MERCY OF THE COURT