He made no effort to justify his choice; he had confessed the faith that was in him, but it was too intimate to discuss, even with so good a fellow as old Freddy. ("You can't expect a woman to understand that sort of thing," he told himself; "women don't catch on to science--except Laura. She sees the importance of it.") Then he broke out about Laura's hat. "Isn't it dinky?" "Yes," Fred said, impatiently; they were talking like two strangers! "Howard, I hate to have you away in April. We're going to have our parade then, and I counted on you." "What for?" he said, puzzled. "To walk," she said, impatiently. His little start of astonishment annoyed her. "Perhaps you are glad to miss it?" "I guess I am," he admitted, honestly. "I'm afraid I'd show the yellow streak." She was plainly disappointed in him. "'Course I believe in suffrage," he said, "but I hate to see a lot of ladies walking in the middle of the street." "We're not 'ladies'; we're women." "You're a lady, and you can't escape it. And I'd hate to see Laura do it," he added. Fred had not a mean fiber in her, and jealousy is all meanness; but, somehow, she felt a stab of something like pain. She did not connect it with Laura; it was only because he was indifferent to what was so important to her--and to Laura, too. And because he was going away, and here they were, he and she, just being polite to each other! "Laura and I don't enjoy the middle of the street," she said; "but I hope we won't funk it." "_You_ won't," he said; "you are the best sport going!" Her face reddened with pleasure. "Oh, I don't know," she disclaimed, modestly. It was at this moment that Laura's considerate delay ended. "I'm off!" she called, gaily, from the hall; "Howard needn't come until he is good and ready!" He was ready in a flash. He gave Frederica's hand a hearty squeeze, then turned to help Laura down the front steps. Fred closed the door upon them, and went back into the parlor. "_He is going away_," she said to herself, blankly. Her knees felt queer, and she sat down. "Well, at any rate, Morty didn't butt in; I couldn't have borne that...." Out in the wintry dusk, the other two were silent for a while. Then Maitland said, "How _can_ she stand that house?" "She's perfectly fine," Laura said, loyally. "She's a stunner," the young man declared; "I never knew anybody just like her. Big, you know. Straightforward. I take off my hat to Fred in everything!" Laura gave him a swift look. ("Have they fixed it up?" she thought; "I gave 'em time enough!") "But I wish she wouldn't mix up with Smith," he said. "Smith believes in votes for women." "What's that got to do with it? He's the worst kind of a boss. As Arthur Weston says, to put Smith in to purify politics, is like casting out devils by Beelzebub, the Prince of Devils." "Oh, well, we stand by the people who stand by us!"