“Me,” Mr. Dodge explained. “It began at breakfast before you were up, and it’s the old culprit, Lily.” “I guessed that much,” Lily said, cheerfully. “I haven’t been falling in love with anybody foolish for three or four months now; and that’s the only thing _I_ ever do to make her look like this, so I knew it must be you. What you been up to?” “Aiding in good causes,” he answered, sighing. “She hates me for helping the Workers, Lily. Our next-door neighbour appealed to Cæsar, over your mother’s head. I’ve explained two or three hundred times that I didn’t know there’d been any previous request to her; but she hates my wicked plotting just the same.” “No. I only hate your weakness,” Mrs. Dodge said, not relaxing her severity. “You were so eager to please that woman you couldn’t even wait to consult your wife. Her writing to you and ignoring what I’d twice written her was the rudest thing I’ve ever had done to me, and your donation puts you in the position of approving of it. She did it because she’s furious with me, and so——” But Lily interrupted her. “Mamma!” she exclaimed. “Why, you’re talking just ridiculously! Everybody knows Mrs. Braithwaite couldn’t be ‘furious.’ Not with anybody!” “Couldn’t she? Then why did she do such an insulting thing to me? Don’t you suppose she knows it’s insulting to show she can get a poor silly husband to do something his wife has declined to do? Is there a cattier trick in the whole cattish repertoire? She did it because she’s the slyest puss in this community and she knows I know it, and hates me for it!” Lily stared in the blankest surprise. “Why, it just sounds like anarchy!” she cried. “I never heard you break out like that before except when you were talking about some boy I liked! When did you get this way about Mrs. Leslie Braithwaite?” “I’ve never liked her,” Mrs. Dodge said. “Never! I’ve always suspected she was a whited sepulchre, and now I’ve got proof of it.” “Proof? That’s quite a strong word, Lydia,” Mr. Dodge reminded her. “Thank you!” she said. “I mean exactly what I’m saying. Mrs. Braithwaite did this thing to me out of deliberate spitefulness; and she did it because she knows what I think of her.” “But you said you had ‘proof’ that she’s a ‘whited sepulchre,’” he said. “The word ‘proof’——” “May we assume that it means reliable evidence reliably confirmed?” Mrs. Dodge asked, with satirical politeness. “Suppose you’ve done something disgraceful and another person happens to know you did it. Then suppose you play a nasty trick on this other person. Wouldn’t it be proof that you hate him because he knows you did the disgraceful thing?” “I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Mr. Dodge said, uncomfortably. “When did I ever do this disgraceful thing you’re talking about? If it’s actually disgraceful to subscribe a hundred dollars to the Workers——”