Judith's lot it was
despatched with business-like promptness, but Lawrence had early
discovered a temperamental difference between his two sisters, and
Sylvia was seldom allowed to leave the small bed until she had paid
tribute to her ever-present desire to please, in the shape of a story
or a song. On that day Buddy was more exacting than usual. Sylvia told
the story of Cinderella and sang, "A Frog He Would a-Wooing Go," twice
through, before the little boy's eyes began to droop. Even then, the
clutch of his warm, moist fingers about her hand did not relax. When
she tried to slip her fingers out of his, his eyelids fluttered open
and he tightened his grasp with a wilful frown. So she sat still on
the edge of his bed, waiting till he should be really asleep.

From the dining-room below her rose the sound of voices, or rather of
one voice--her father's. She wondered why it sounded so angry, and
then, mixed with some unintelligible phrases--"turned out on the
street, in trouble--in a foreign land--Good God!" she caught Pauline's
name. Oh yes, that must be the trouble. Mother was telling Father
about Pauline--whatever it was she had done--and he was as mad about
it as Aunt Victoria had been. If Aunt Victoria's voice had sounded
like that, she didn't wonder that Arnold had hidden under the bed. If
she could have moved, she, too, would have run away, although the
idea that she ought to do so did not occur to her. There had been no
secrets in that house. The talk had always been for all to hear who
would.

But when she tried again to slip her hand away from Buddy's the little
boy pulled at it hard, and half opening his eyes, said sleepily,
"Sylvie stay with Buddy--Sylvie stay--" Sylvia yielded weakly, said:
"Yes--sh! sh! Sister'll stay. Go to sleep, Buddy."

From below came the angry voice, quite loud now, so that she caught
every queer-sounding word--"righteous indignation indeed! What else
did _she_ do, I'd like to know, when she wanted money. The only
difference was that she was cold-blooded enough to extract a legal
status from the old reprobate she accosted."

Sylvia heard her mother's voice saying coldly, "You ought to be
ashamed to use such a word!" and her father retort, "It's the _only_
word that expresses it! You know as well as I do that she cared no
more for Ephraim Smith than for the first man she might have solicited
on the street--nor so much! God! It makes me sick to look at her and
think of the price she