--unselfishness, disinterestedness, the finer feeling of the
older woman for the younger, and all that goes to make womanhood and
maternal instinct what they should be. She felt that her reign at
Severndale was ended and nothing remained but to make as graceful a
retreat as possible. So she declined the invitation, stating that she
was very anxious to visit some friends in Baltimore and would take this
opportunity to do so, going by a later train.

Neil Stewart did not press his invitation. He wanted Mrs. Harold and the
girls to himself for a time and knowing that it would be his last
opportunity to see them for many months, resolved to make the most of
it. Not by word or act had he expressed disapproval of Mrs. Stewart's
rather extraordinary line of conduct since her arrival at Severndale,
though evidences of it were to be seen at every turn, and both
Harrison's and Mammy's tongues were fairly quivering to describe in
detail the experiences of the past month.

Harrison was wise enough not to criticise, but she lost no opportunity
for asking if she were to carry out this, that, or some other order of
Mrs. Stewart's, until poor Neil lost his temper and finally rumbled
out:

"Look here, Martha Harrison, how long have you been at Severndale?"

"Nigh on to twenty years, sir, and full fifteen years with that blessed
child's mother before she ever heard tell of this place. I took care of
her, as right well you know, long before she was as old as Miss Peggy."

"And have I ever ordered any changes made in her rules?"

"None to my knowledge, sir. They was pretty sensible ones and there
didn't seem any reason to change them."

"Well, you're pretty long-headed, and until you _do_ see reason to
change 'em let 'em stand and quit pestering _me_. You're the Exec. on
this ship until I see fit to appoint a new one and when I think of doing
that I'll give you due notice."

But Mammy would have exploded had she not expressed her views. Harrison
had chosen the moment when Captain Stewart had gone to his room just
before supper that eventful Sunday evening, but Mammy spoke when she
carried up to him the little jug of mulled cider for which Severndale
was famous and which, when cider was to be had, she had never failed to
carry to "her boy," as Neil Stewart, in spite of his forty-six years,
still seemed to old Mammy.

Tapping at the door of his sitting-room, she entered at his "Come in."
She found him standing before a large silver