g with Harry, but you can tell by
looking at the child that he is perfectly well."

"But I was up with him last night, mother. His throat hurts him," broke
in Virginia in a voice that was full of emotion.

"He certainly looks all right," remarked Mrs. Pendleton, "and I can take
care of him if anything should be wrong." Then she added very gravely,
"If you can't go, of course Oliver must stay at home, too, Virginia."

"I can't," said Oliver; "not just for a whim, anyway. It would break up
the party. Besides, I didn't get a holiday all summer, and I'll blow up
that confounded bank unless I take a change."

In the last quarter of an hour the trip had become of tremendous
importance to him. From a trivial incident which he might have
relinquished a week ago without regret, the excursion with Abby had
attained suddenly the dignity and the power of an event in his life.
Opposition had magnified inclination into desire.

"I don't think it will do for Oliver to go without you, Jinny," said
Mrs. Pendleton, and the gravity of her face showed how carefully she was
weighing her words.

"But I can't go, mother. You don't understand," replied Virginia, while
her lips worked convulsively. No one could understand--not even her
mother. Of the three of them, it is probable that she alone realized the
complete significance of her decision.

"Well, it's too late now, anyway," remarked Oliver shortly. "You
wouldn't have time to dress and catch the train even if you wanted to."

Taking up his bag, he kissed her carelessly, shook hands with Mrs.
Pendleton, and throwing a "Good-bye, General!" to Harry, went out of the
door.

As he vanished, Virginia started up quickly, called "Oliver!" under her
breath, and then sat down again, drawing her child closer in her arms.
Her face had grown grey and stricken like the face of an old woman.
Every atom of her quivered with the longing to run after him, to yield
to his wish, to promise anything he asked of her. Yet she knew that if
he came back, they would only pass again through the old wearing
struggle of wills. She had chosen not as she desired to, but as she
must, and already she was learning that life forces one in the end to
abide by one's choices.

"Oh, Virginia, I am afraid it was a mistake," said Mrs. Pendleton in an
agonized tone. The horror of a scandal, which was stronger in the women
of her generation than even the horror of illness, still darkened her
mind.

A shiver passed th