Never! Perhaps if you'd come along before my little girl arrived and wanted to carry off Geoff, I might have let him go. I was fond enough of him to do that, I believe. Once I'd thought it was really for his good. But now him and me has never been such friends, just because we've got the baby. Our baby. His and mine. Not yours, and she never will be." The child whose future was at stake was disturbed by the clamor of her mother's voice and woke up shrieking. Mary waited a moment or two in embarrassment, uncertain how to get herself out of the room. In the end she went away in silence. When she reached home, she sat down and wrote to her daughter-in-law: Woodworth Lodge, Campden Hill, W., _November 9, 1910_. _Dear Mary_, _I am afraid that you misunderstood the spirit in which I paid you my visit to-day. I feel that you may have imagined that my proposal for you to let me assume the responsibility for Molly's future meant that the little girl would be taken away from you. What I intended was that she should be the means of bringing us all together again. Perhaps in a little time you will be able to look at the situation with less bitterness. I do so hope that you will. Please accept this check as a belated wedding present and_ _Believe me to be, Yours affectionately, Mary Alison._ To which she received the following answer from her daughter-in-law: _Dear Mrs. Alison_, _Thank you for the check which I would rather not accept if you don't mind. I'm sorry I was rude when you came to see me, but I should only be rude again, and so it's better for you not to come._ _Yours sincerely, Mary Alison._ And from her son: _My dear Mother_, _I'm afraid you will think us ungracious in the way we've received your kindness. I'm afraid that Mary allowed herself to give vent to a good deal of the resentment she has had ten years to accumulate._