tell you you've taken a grudge against her, and you
want to get rid of it as soon as possible."

"I suppose I have a right to my opinion," Belden began hotly, but a wave
of remorse surged over him at sight of the other man's drawn, nervous
face.

"Any one would think we had nothing to do but scrap over a trained
nurse," he said lightly. "She's all you say, I haven't a doubt, old man,
and if she pulls Caddy through, I'll sing her praises louder than any of
you."

They sat in silence. A burst of laughter from the kitchen-garden
startled them, and Belden started up as if to check it.

"Don't stop 'em--it's the servants. Why shouldn't they laugh?" said
Peter quietly. "I've been thinking it all over. If Caddy--if--if she
doesn't get well, she doesn't want a lot of black and all that. It's bad
for the children. And she said the children oughtn't to grow up without
a mother--think of that!"

"I guess that's all right," said Belden sadly. "Look at my boy there!"

A slender, stoop-shouldered lad slouched by the long hall-window, his
hands in his pockets, an unlighted cigarette in his mouth.

"Well, well, we all have our load!" Peter's mood had changed utterly, to
the other's astonishment. He seemed gentler, more thoughtful, controlled
beyond belief.

"I don't see why we shouldn't smoke," he added, and they lighted cigars.

"You see, we talked it all over," he said, half to himself, "and she's
so reasonable and calm, herself.... She says Margaret's going to grow up
just like her. That's a comfort.. And there's the boy."

Suddenly the cigar dropped from his lips to the floor.

"Good God, Belden!" he shouted, "I kept thinking she'd be here, too! I
forgot--I--Oh, what rot! Do you think I'll stand it? Do you think I'll
put up with it? Why didn't Hitchcock know before? It was his business to
know! I tell you I'll ruin that man if it takes every dollar I've got!"

Belden stared at him helplessly. Was this Peter, this red-faced,
scowling menace? As he watched him silently the nurse came in from the
greenhouse.

"Mrs. Moore wants to say good night to you, Mr. Moore," she said, her
deep, clear voice echoing strangely after the hoarse passion of Peter's
rage. "I found these all picked--were you going to take them to her?"

Peter drew a deep breath and put out a shaking hand for the flowers.

"I don't know what's the matter with me, Will--I talk like a fool," he
half whispered. "I can't get used to this damned see-saw. Fir