When he opened his mother's bedroom door and walked self-consciously forward to turn up the light, a fretful voice from the bed halted him. "Fred, if you're going to make the room bright, please bring the screen forward." He dropped his hand from the gas jet. "It doesn't matter," said he, sulkily, and he moved to the foot of the bed. "Let it stay as it is.... Babe said you wanted me." Mrs. Graves settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked at him. "Yes! I did tell her to send you in. What's the matter? Anything?" "No." The answer was brutal in its curtness. "You've been with that Skinner girl again." The woman sat up in bed and exclaimed angrily. "I can tell by the way you act." A sudden fury took possession of the student. "Of course, I haven't been to Skinner's," he contradicted roughly. "Didn't I tell you I wouldn't go and see her any more? What do you want now?" Relieved by his words in spite of the ugly way in which they were uttered, Mrs. Graves sank back on the pillows. "Sit down," she invited. He was too nervous and angry willingly to grant even so small a request just then. "I can listen as well standing here," he answered crossly. "But I can't talk as well when you stand," insisted Mrs. Graves, peevishly. "Frederick! What's happened to you since your father died? That squatter girl's turned your head. I know it. She's completely spoiled you." Tessibel and all her girlish sweetness came vividly across the boy's mind. It was ridiculous to blame Tess. Ah, if he were as good as Tess desired him to be, his life would be the most exemplary. "Please leave her name out of it, will you?" he rasped rudely. "Even if I can't see her, I won't hear anything against her." Mrs. Graves sat up in bed, throwing back wisps of gray hair, that persisted in falling over her nose. "Oh, you won't, eh?" she shrilled loudly. "Well, now, you listen to me.... You'll hear what I please to say to you, young man. It's a good thing you don't go to Skinner's any more. It's time you were interested in a decent girl. You've got to marry sometime. It's just as easy to love a rich girl as a poor one. Why don't you propose to Madelene Waldstricker?" "Madelene's all right, I suppose," the boy answered "but I don't want to marry her." "You better want to," his mother rejoined tartly. "You've got to do just that very thing." "You're crazy, Mother. I won't do it. What do you take me for, anyhow? Get that idea out of your head and keep it out." "If your father were here, you wouldn't dare to say such things to me.... I want you to sit down, do you hear?" Frederick dropped into a chair wearily. The time had come to tell his mother that Tessibel Skinner was his wife. After that was done, there could be no such arguments. He started to speak, but his mother interrupted him.