ot given to actual
hand-to-hand conflicts, so she checked it and inquired significantly
instead--

"But could he, after ridin' over the country t'hout no chaperon and
all?"

Mrs. Tutts had only recently found out about chaperons and their
function, but, since she had she insisted upon them fiercely, and Mrs.
Jackson was finally forced to admit that this violation of the
conventions was indeed hard to overlook.

Essie Tisdale was too unhappy either to observe the passing of the women
or their failure to recognize her. In the presence of this new, real
grief their friendliness or lack of it seemed a small affair. The only
thing which mattered was Ogden Van Lennop's going. The sun, for her, had
gone down and with the inexperience of youth she did not believe it ever
would rise again.

The girl sat motionless, her chin still resting in her palm, until a
tremulous voice behind her spoke her name.

"Essie."

She turned to see Mrs. Terriberry, buttoned into her steel-colored
bodice and obviously flustered.

"Yes?" There was a trace of wonder in her voice.

At the sight of the pale face the girl upturned to her, Mrs.
Terriberry's courage nearly failed her in the task to which she had
nerved herself.

"Essie," she faltered, twisting her rings nervously, finally blurting
out, "I'm afraid you'll have to go, Essie."

The girl started violently.

"Go?" she gasped. "Go?"

Mrs. Terriberry nodded, relieved that it was out.

"But why? Why?" It seemed too incredible to believe. This was the very
last thing she had expected, or thought of.

Mrs. Terriberry avoided her eyes; it was even harder than she had
anticipated. Why hadn't she let "Hank" Terriberry tell her himself! Mrs.
Terriberry was one of that numerous class whose naturally kind hearts
are ever warring with their bump of caution.

She was sorry now that she had been so impulsive in telling him all that
Dr. Harpe had whispered over the afternoon tea at Mrs. Symes's now
fashionable Thursday "At Home." It was the first of the coveted cards
which Mrs. Terriberry had received and Dr. Harpe took care to adroitly
convey the information that the invitation was due to her, and Mrs.
Terriberry was correspondingly grateful.

"You can't afford to keep her; you simply can't afford it, Mrs.
Terriberry," Dr. Harpe had whispered earnestly in a confidential corner.

"But," she had protested in feeble loyalty, "but I _like_ Essie."

"Of course you do," Dr. Harpe had agree