fe's step in the hall,
"come here."

"What do you wish, Lawrence?" and there was a soft _frou frou_ of silken
draperies as Mrs. Hildreth's dress swept over the carpet.

"Evadne wishes to become a nurse."

"Are you crazy?" There was a steely glitter in Mrs. Hildreth's eyes, and
her tone fell cold and measured through the room.

"She says not," said the Judge with a feeble smile.

"Why should you think so, Aunt Kate?" asked Evadne gently. "Look how the
world honors Florence Nightingale, and think how many splendid women
have followed her example."

"To earn your own living by the labor of your hands. A Hildreth!"

"All the people who amount to anything in the world have to work, Aunt
Kate. There is nothing degrading in it."

"Just try it and you will soon find out your mistake. If you do this
thing you will be ostracized by the world. People make a great talk
about the dignity of labor, but a girl who works has no footing in
polite society."

Evadne's sweet laugh fell softly through the silence. "I don't believe I
have any time for society, Aunt Kate. Life seems too real to be
frittered away over afternoon teas."

"Are you mad, Lawrence, to let her take this step? Think of the Hildreth
honor!"

Again Judge Hildreth laughed--that strange, feeble laugh. "Evadne is of
age, Kate; she must do as she thinks right. As to the rest--I think the
less we say about the Hildreth honor now the better for us all."

He was alone. Mrs. Hildreth had swept away in a storm of wrath. Evadne
had followed her, leaving a soft kiss upon his brow. He lifted his hand
to the place her lips had touched--he felt as if he had been stung--but
there was no outward wound.

The Hildreth honor! The letters in the drawer at his side seemed to
confront him with scorn blazing from every page. He put forth his hand
with a sudden determination. He would crush their impertinent
obtrusiveness under his heel; then, when their damaging evidence was
buried in the dust of oblivion, he would be safe and fret! Evadne knew
her father had left her something. He would make special mention of it
in his will--a Trust fund--enough to yield her maintenance and the
paltry pin money which was all the allowance he had ever seen his way
clear to make his brother's child. It was not his fault, he argued--he
had meant to do right--but gilt-edged securities were as waste, paper in
the unprecedented monetary depression which was sweeping stronger men
than himself to t