and Aunt there, any one would think that Virelet was
the best wife and mother that ever lived, and that she'd only left me to
go to heaven."

"Well, there's no good my saying any more, I can see," said Mr. Randall.
And he rose, buttoning his coat with dignity that struggled in vain
against his deep depression. He was profoundly troubled by his nephew's
outburst. It was as if peace and honesty and honor, the solid,
steadfast tradition by which he lived, had been first outraged, then
destroyed in sheer brutality. He didn't know himself. He had been
charged with untruthfulness and dishonesty; he, who had been held the
soul of honesty and truth; who had always held himself at least sincere.

And he didn't know his nephew Randall. He had always supposed that
Randall was refined and that he had a good heart. And to think that he
could break out like this, and be coarse and cruel, and say things
before ladies that were downright immoral--

"Well," he said, as he shook hands with him, "I can't understand you, my
boy."

"Sorry, Uncle."

"There--leave it alone. I don't ask you to apologize to me. But there's
your mother. You've done your best to hurt her. Good-by."

"He's upset, John," said Ranny's mother, "and no wonder. You should have
let him be."

"I'm not upset," said Ranny, wearily. "What beats me is the rotten
humbug of it all."

And no sooner did Mr. Randall find himself in the High Street with his
wife than he took her by the arm in confidence.

"He was quite right about that wife of his. Only I thought--if he could
have patched it up--"

"Ah, I dare say he knows more than we do. What I can't get over is the
way he spoke about his poor father."

"Well--I wouldn't say it to Emma, but Fulleymore _does_ drink. Like a
fish he does."

(It was his sacrifice to honesty.)

"But Randall was wild. He didn't quite know what he was saying. Poor
chap! It's hit him harder than he thinks."

* * * * *

Ranny, alone with his mother, put his arm round her neck and kissed her.
(She had gone into her room and returned dressed, ready to go back with
him to Southfields.)

"I'm sorry, Mother, if I hurt you."

"Never mind, Ranny, I know how hurt you must have been before you could
do it. It was what you said about your Father, dear. But there--you've
always been good to him no matter what he's been."

"Is he _very_ bad, Mother?"

"He is. I don't know, I'm sure, how I'm going to leave him