"Oh, won't you tell her? Please--please!" Poor old Miss White could only shake her head: "I can't, my dear, I _can't!_ It would not be fitting. Do it now, my dear; do it immejetly, and get it over." When Cherry-pie had wavered back into the night, Nannie gathered up her courage to "get it over." She went stealthily across the hall; but at the dining-room door she stood still, her hand on the knob, not daring to enter. Strangely enough, in the midst of the absorbing distress of the moment, some trick of memory made her think of the little 'fraid-cat, standing outside that door, trying to find the courage to open it and get for Blair--for whose sake she stood there now--the money for his journey all around the world! In spite of her terror, she smiled faintly; then she opened the door and looked in. Mrs. Maitland was still at work, and she retreated noiselessly. At eleven she tried again. Except for the single gas-jet under a green shade that hung above the big desk, the room was dark. Mrs. Maitland was in her chair, writing rapidly; she did not hear Nannie's hesitating footstep, or know that she was in the room, until the girl put her hand on the arm of her chair. "Mamma." "Yes?" "Mamma, I have something to--to tell you." Mrs. Maitland signed her name, put her pen behind her ear, flung a blotter down on the heavily written page, and rubbed her fist over it. "Well?" she said cheerfully; and glanced up at her stepdaughter over her steel-rimmed spectacles, with kind eyes; "what are you awake for, at this hour?" Then she drew out a fresh sheet of paper, and began to write: "My dear Sir:--Yours received, and con--" "Mamma . . . Blair is married." The pen made a quick, very slight upward movement; there was a spatter of ink; then the powerful, beautiful hand went on evenly "--tents noted." She rubbed the blotter over this line, put the pen in a cup of shot, and turned around. "What did you say?" "I said . . . Blair is married." Silence. "He asked me to tell you." Silence. "He hopes you will not be angry. He says he is going to be a--a tremendous business man, now, because he is so happy." Silence. Then, in a loud voice: "How long has this been going on?" "Oh, Mamma, not any time at all, truly! I am perfectly sure it--it was on the spur of the moment." "Married, 'on the spur of the moment'? Good God!" "I only mean he hasn't been planning it. He--" "And what kind of woman has married him, 'on the spur of the moment'?" "Oh,--Mamma . . ." Her voice was so terrified that Mrs. Maitland suddenly looked at her. "Don't be frightened, Nannie," she said kindly. "What is it? You have something more to tell me, I can see that. Come, out with it! Is she bad?" "Oh, _Mamma!_ don't! don't! It is--she is--Elizabeth--" Then she fled.