"Stands in less ground, must have cost less," said Gerty softly. "Compared to Strathfieldsaye, The Gables to my mind is rather niggardly." "That is so, Gert." He nodded approvingly. She was always there with the right word. "All the same I believe in that young Nixey. Started, you know, at the Council School. Won a scholarship at the University. Why, I remember his mother when she used to come to the Duke of Wellington and sew for Maria. Done everything for himself. And now he's a commissioned officer in the B.B. Give honor where honor's due, I say." Gerty and Ethel agreed, perhaps a little reluctantly. Maria expressed a tacit approval. And then Melia made the discovery that her mind had wandered as far as France; and for a moment or so the world's pressure upon her felt a little less stifling. "Wonderful, how that young man's got on!" There was reverence in the tone of Gerty whose religion was "getting on." "It is." Josiah was emphatic. "You can't hold some people back. I give him another ten years to be the first architect in this town ... if he comes through This." "It's a big 'if.'" Before the words were out of Gerty's mouth she remembered Amelia's husband and wished them unsaid. She had not had the courage to mention William Hollis with poor Amelia so rigidly on the defensive, but she had hoped that some one would introduce the subject so that a tribute might be paid him. But no one had done so, and now that Josiah was there the time seemed to have gone by. His views in regard to Amelia's husband were far too definite to be challenged lightly. Interest in young Nixey, the architect, began to wane and then suddenly Ethel startled them all by the statement that she had just had a letter from Sally. Josiah's geniality promptly received a coating of ice. His mouth closed like a trap. Sally had not been forgiven by her father and those who knew him best had the least hope that she would be. Her conduct had struck him in a very tender place, and Gerty could not help thinking that it was most imprudent of Ethel to mention Sally in his presence in any circumstances. Ethel, however, had long ceased to fear her father. For one thing, in the eyes of the world her position was too secure. Besides, she was obtuse. Where angels, etc., Mrs. Doctor could always be trusted to walk with a certain measure of assurance, mainly because she didn't see things and feel things in the way that most people did. For that reason she was not at all disconcerted by the silence that followed her announcement. And she supplemented it with another which compelled Gerty, the adroit, to steal a veiled glance at the sphinx-like face of her brother-in-law. "She writes from Serbia, giving a long and wonderful account of her doings with the Red Cross. I think I have her letter with me." Ethel opened a green morocco bag that was on the sofa beside her. "Yes ... here it is ... a long account. Care to read it, Father?" She offered the letter unconcernedly to Josiah.