But Lucy interrupted. "Oh, mother," she said, "this last time it was not--it really was not--_that!_ It was only something that would have made her sick a little. It would not have--It was not _that!_" "If I ever do catch you buying that again," said Mrs. Ayres, "you will know what a whipping is." Her tone was almost whimsical, but it had a terrible emphasis. Lucy shrank. "I didn't put enough of _that_ in to--to do much harm," she murmured, "but I never will again." "No, you had better not," assented Mrs. Ayres. "Now slip on your wrapper and come down-stairs with me. I am going to warm up some of that chicken on toast the way you like it, for supper, and then I am coming back up-stairs with you, and you are going to lie down, and I'll read that interesting book we got out of the library." Lucy obeyed like a child. Her mother helped her slip the wrapper over her head, and the two went down-stairs. After supper that night Sidney Meeks called at the Whitmans'. He did not stay long. He had brought a bottle of elder-flower wine for Sylvia. As he left he looked at Henry, who followed him out of the house into the street. They paused just outside the gate. "Well?" said Henry, interrogatively. "All right," responded Meeks. "What it is all about beats me. The stuff wouldn't hurt a babe in arms, unless it gave it indigestion. Your boarder hasn't insanity in his family, has he?" "Not that I know of," replied Henry. Then he repeated Meeks's comment. "It beats me," he said. When Henry re-entered the house Sylvia looked at him. "What were you and Mr. Meeks talking about out in the street?" she asked. "Nothing," replied Henry, lying as a man may to a woman or a child. "He's in there with her," whispered Sylvia. "They went in there the minute Mr. Meeks and you went out." Sylvia pointed to the best parlor and looked miserably jealous. "Well," said Henry, tentatively. "If they've got anything to say I don't see why they can't say it here," said Sylvia. "The door is open," said Henry. "I ain't going to listen, if it is, and you know I can't hear with one ear," said Sylvia. "Of course I don't care, but I don't see why they went in there. What were you and Mr. Meeks talking about, Henry?" "Nothing," answered Henry, cheerfully, again. Chapter XIII