she looked aside from her hostess, indicated that the
errand was a serious one for the caller and easily to be connected
with the slight but perceptible agitation underlying her assumption of
cheerful ease. There was a restlessness of breathing, a restlessness of
hands.

"Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter were chatting about some to the people
here in town the other day," said Sibyl, repeating the cooing and
protracting it. "They said something that took ME by surprise! We were
talking about our mutual friend, Mr. Robert Lamhorn--"

Mary interrupted her promptly. "Do you mean 'mutual' to include my
mother and me?" she asked.

"Why, yes; the Kittersbys and you and all of us Sheridans, I mean."

"No," said Mary. "We shouldn't consider Mr. Robert Lamhorn a friend of
ours."

To her surprise, Sibyl nodded eagerly, as if greatly pleased. "That's
just the way Mrs. Kittersby talked!" she cried, with a vehemence that
made Mary stare. "Yes, and I hear that's the way ALL you old families
here speak of him!"

Mary looked aside, but otherwise she was able to maintain her composure.
"I had the impression he was a friend of yours," she said; adding,
hastily, "and your husband's."

"Oh yes," said the caller, absently. "He is, certainly. A man's
reputation for a little gaiety oughtn't to make a great difference to
married people, of course. It's where young girls are in question. THEN
it may be very, very dangerous. There are a great many things safe and
proper for married people that might be awf'ly imprudent for a young
girl. Don't you agree, Miss Vertrees?"

"I don't know," returned the frank Mary. "Do you mean that you intend
to remain a friend of Mr. Lamhorn's, but disapprove of Miss Sheridan's
doing so?"

"That's it exactly!" was the naive and ardent response of Sibyl. "What
I feel about it is that a man with his reputation isn't at all suitable
for Edith, and the family ought to be made to understand it. I tell
you," she cried, with a sudden access of vehemence, "her father ought to
put his foot down!"

Her eyes flashed with a green spark; something seemed to leap out and
then retreat, but not before Mary had caught a glimpse of it, as one
might catch a glimpse of a thing darting forth and then scuttling back
into hiding under a bush.

"Of course," said Sibyl, much more composedly, "I hardly need say that
it's entirely on Edith's account that I'm worried about this. I'm as
fond of Edith as if she was really my siste