"Work here, Char, as much as you like," she exclaimed eagerly. "You can have any one you please out here--so long as they don't make a noise," she added hastily. The expression was infelicitous. "You talk as though I were a child, and wanted to have other children out here to play with me. Good heavens, mother! I do you realize that my work is _for the nation_, neither more nor less?" "If I don't, it's not for want of being told," said her mother with sudden dryness. "It's easy to say that sort of thing, to accuse me of self-complacency in the tiny little part I contribute to an enormous whole." "It's not that, Char!" cried Joanna hastily. "I don't care if you have megalomania in its acutest form"--Miss Bruce bounded irrepressibly on her chair--"but I will _not_ have your father distressed. That's my one and only concern. Johnnie, help me to make her understand." "I do understand, mother," said Char. "You would sacrifice everything to the personal question--women always do. But I can't see it like that. The broader issue lies there, under my very eyes, and I can't shirk it." "Johnnie!" said Joanna despairingly. "Tell her that she's blinding herself." "Can't you give it up, Char?" he asked her gently. "You can do work here, you know, and let some one else carry on at Questerham." "Yes, yes, a deputy. Some one who'll be under your orders," breathed Miss Bruce eagerly. She cordially wished her contribution to the discussion unuttered, however, when it evoked from Johnnie the inspired suggestion: "Miss Jones! Make her your deputy, Char, and the whole thing will go like a house on fire." Joanna, still pacing the room, gave a quick, short laugh, which made Trevellyan look at her in wondering surprise, and Char in sudden anger. "May I suggest--" Miss Bruce began timidly, and paused. "Anything!" said Joanna brusquely. "Couldn't Dr. Prince tell us whether there is any reason--anything to fear--any danger," faltered Miss Bruce, becoming terribly involved. Trevellyan came to her rescue. "You mean whether there is likely to be any immediate change, for worse or for better, in Sir Piers's condition?" "Of course I couldn't go if my father was in immediate danger," quoth Char impatiently. "But he's not. We've already been told so. He may go on in this state for months and months. And at the end of a telephone! Why, I could be sent for and be back here within an hour." "I'm not discussing the question from that point of view at all," Joanna told her. "The point is not that you should be at hand in case of any crisis, but simply that he should not be vexed. Your insensate hours of work at the Depôt vex him." The words sounded oddly trivial, but no one doubted that Joanna was angry, angrier than they had, any of them, ever seen her. "Look here, Cousin Joanna, can't we settle this later on? There can be no need to arrange it tonight," said John. "Suppose we let the Doctor give the casting vote, as Miss Bruce suggested?"