"Yes, wasn't it," she said quickly. "I don't care, I'm not going to have him marrying Sue. I'm too fond of both of them. Besides, your father has to be thought of. It would simply kill him!" * * * * * "Yes," I thought to myself that night. "No doubt about that, it would kill him." How much older he looked, in the strong light of the huge old-fashioned gas lamp that hung over the dining-room table. He was making a visible effort to be young and genial. He had not seen Joe in several years, and he evidently knew nothing whatever of what Joe was up to, except that he had been ill at our home. Joe spoke of what we had done for him, and Sue eagerly took up the cue, keeping the talk upon us and "the Indian," to my father's deep satisfaction. From this she turned to our childhood and the life in this old house. Dad pictured it all in such glowing colors I recognized almost nothing as real. But watching Sue's face as she listened, she seemed to me trying to feel again as she had felt here long ago when she had been his only chum. Every few moments she would break off to throw a quick, restless glance at Joe. When the time came for us to go, my father assured us warmly that he had not felt so young in years. He said we had so stirred him up that he must take a book and read or he wouldn't sleep a wink all night. Joe did not come away with us. As we stood all together at the door, I saw Eleanore glance into Dad's study where his heavy leather chair was waiting, and then into the room across the hall where Sue had drawn up two chairs to the fire. And I thought of the next hour or two. My father already had under his arm a book on American shipping, which told about the old despotic sea world of his day, in which there had been no strikers but only mutineers. * * * * * "There's very little time to lose," said Eleanore on the way home. "Look here," I suggested. "Why don't you talk this out with Sue, and tell her just what you think of it all?" "Because," said Eleanore, "what I think and what you think has nothing whatever to do with the case. Sue would say it was none of our business. And she'd be quite right. It isn't." "Aren't we making it our business?" My wife at times gets me so confused. "I'm not _telling_ them anything," she rejoined. "I'm only trying to _show_ them something and let the poor idiots see for themselves. If they won't see, it's hopeless." CHAPTER X On Friday evening Sue sent word that she would be late and that she would meet us at Joe's room. So we went down without her.