After a while Mrs. Cressler began to talk to Laura in a low voice. She and Charlie were going to spend a part of June at Oconomowoc, in Wisconsin. Why could not Laura make up her mind to come with them? She had asked Laura a dozen times already, but couldn't get a yes or no answer from her. What was the reason she could not decide? Didn't she think she would have a good time? "Page can go," said Laura. "I would like to have you take her. But as for me, I don't know. My plans are so unsettled this summer." She broke off suddenly. "Oh, now, that I think of it, I want to borrow your 'Idylls of the King.' May I take it for a day or two? I'll run in and get it now," she added as she rose. "I know just where to find it. No, please sit still, Mr. Cressler. I'll go." And with the words she disappeared in doors, leaving Mrs. Cressler to murmur to her husband: "Strange girl. Sometimes I think I don't know Laura at all. She's so inconsistent. How funny she acts about going to Oconomowoc with us!" Mr. Cressler permitted himself an amiable grunt of protest. "Pshaw! Laura's all right. The handsomest girl in Cook County." "Well, that's not much to do with it, Charlie," sighed Mrs. Cressler. "Oh, dear," she added vaguely. "I don't know." "Don't know what?" "I hope Laura's life will be happy." "Oh, for God's sake, Carrie!" "There's something about that girl," continued Mrs. Cressler, "that makes my heart bleed for her." Cressler frowned, puzzled and astonished. "Hey--what!" he exclaimed. "You're crazy, Carrie!" "Just the same," persisted Mrs. Cressler, "I just yearn towards her sometimes like a mother. Some people are born to trouble, Charlie; born to trouble, as the sparks fly upward. And you mark my words, Charlie Cressler, Laura is that sort. There's all the pathos in the world in just the way she looks at you from under all that black, black hair, and out of her eyes the saddest eyes sometimes, great, sad, mournful eyes." "Fiddlesticks!" said Mr. Cressler, resuming his paper. "I'm positive that Sheldon Corthell asked her to marry him," mused Mrs. Cressler after a moment's silence. "I'm sure that's why he left so suddenly." Her husband grunted grimly as he turned his paper so as to catch the reflection of the vestibule light. "Don't you think so, Charlie?" "Uh! I don't know. I never had much use for that fellow, anyhow." "He's wonderfully talented," she commented, "and so refined. He always had the most beautiful manners. Did you ever notice his hands?" "I thought they were like a barber's. Put him in 'J.'s' rig there, behind those horses of his, and how long do you suppose he'd hold those trotters with that pair of hands? Why," he blustered, suddenly, "they'd pull him right over the dashboard." "Poor little Landry Court!" murmured his wife, lowering her voice. "He's just about heart-broken. He wanted to marry her too. My goodness, she must have brought him up with a round turn. I can see Laura when she is really angry. Poor fellow!"