ment later he was shaking hands
with her, still keeping his eyes away from hers. She made her grasp
cold and inanimate, and he divined the displeasure she meant to
indicate.

"You must go and play again," she said, "or talk to the girls. You
mustn't come and talk to me."

"Why not! How can I help it--now?"

The laughing at her and himself had evidently not come, but, bad as
that would have been to bear, his tone threatened something worse.

"Don't," she answered sharply. "I'm very angry. You were very unkind
and--and ungentlemanly last night."

He flushed crimson.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked, with the terrible simplicity of his
youth.

For all her trouble, she had to bite her lip to hide a smile. What a
question to ask--just in so many words!

"It was very, very wicked, and, of course, I didn't like it," she
answered. "Oh, Harry! don't you know how wicked it was?"

"Oh, yes! I know that, of course," said he, picking at the straw of
his hat, which he was carrying in his hand.

"Well, then!" she said.

"I couldn't help it."

"You must help it. Oh, don't you know--oh, it's absurd! I'm years
older than you."

"You looked so--so awfully pretty."

"I can't stand talking to you. They'll all see."

"Oh, it's all right. You're a friend of mother's, you know. I say,
when shall I be able to see you again--alone, you know?"

Mrs. Mortimer was within an ace of a burst of tears. He seemed not to
know that he made her faint with shame, and mad with exultation, and
bewildered with terror all in a moment. His new manhood took no heed,
save of itself. Was this being out of harm's way, under the eyes of
those poor blind parents?

"If--if you care the least for me--for what I wish, go away, Harry,"
she whispered.

He looked at her in wonder, but, with a frown on his face, did as he
was told. Five minutes later he was playing again; she heard him shout
"Thirty--love," as he served, a note of triumphant battle in his voice.
She believed that she was altogether out of his thoughts.

Her husband was to dine in town that night, and, for sheer protection,
she made Maudie Sinclair come and share her evening meal. The children
were put to bed, and they sat down alone together, talking over the
party. Maudie was pleased to relax a little of her severity toward
Harry Sterling; she admitted that he had been very useful in arranging
the sets, and very pleasant to everyone.

"Of course, he's conceited," s