"What in creation is the fellow, anyhow?" said Meeks, with a laugh. "Are all the women going daft over him? He isn't half bad looking, and he's a good sort, but I'm hanged if I can see why he should upset every woman who looks at him. Here we've just escorted that poor Ayres girl home. I declare, her face made me shiver. I was glad there wasn't any pond handy for her. But if you mean to say that your good, sensible old wife--" "Get out! You know better," cried Henry, impatiently. "You know Sylvia better than that. She sets a lot by Mr. Allen; I do myself; but, as far as that goes, she'd give her blessing if he'd marry any girl but Rose. That's where the hitch comes in. She doesn't want him to marry her." "Thinks he isn't good enough?" "I don't believe it's that. I don't know what it is. She says she don't want Rose to marry anybody." "Good Lord! Sylvia doesn't expect a girl with a face like that, and money to boot, to be an old maid! My only wonder is that she hasn't been snapped up before now." "I guess Rose has had chances." "If she hasn't, all the men who have seen her have been stone blind." "I don't know what has got into Sylvia, and that's the truth," Henry said. "I never saw her act the way she does lately. I can't imagine what has got into her head about Rose that she thinks she mustn't get married." "Maybe Sylvia is in love with the girl," said Meeks, shrewdly. "I know she is," said Henry. "Poor Sylvia loves her as if she was her own daughter, but I have always understood that mothers were crazy to have their daughters married." "So have I, but these popular ideas are sometimes nonsense. I have always heard that myself." "Sylvia and I have been happy enough together," said Henry. "It can't be that her own life as a married woman makes her think it a better plan to remain single." "That's stuff." "It seems so to me. Well, all the reason I can think of is, Sylvia has come to set so much by the girl that she's actually jealous of her." "Do you suppose they'll tell her to-night?" asked Meeks. Henry regarded him with an expression of actual terror. "Seems as if they might wait, and let Sylvia have her night's sleep," he muttered. "I guess I won't stay to supper," said Meeks. "Stay, for the Lord's sake." Meeks laughed. "I believe you are afraid, Henry." "I hate to see a woman upset over anything." "So do I, for that matter. Do you think my staying might make it any better?" "Yes, it might. Here we are in sight of the house. You ain't going to back out?" Meeks laughed again, although rather uneasily. "All right," he said. When he and Henry entered they found Sylvia moving nervously about the sitting-room. She was scowling, and her starched apron-strings were rampant at her slim back.