"Have you told Peter how you feel about it?" asked the old lady keenly.

Electra seemed to herself to be unjustly upon her own defense when she
had meant to place the stranger there.

"He knows it, grandmother." She spoke as impatiently as decorum would
allow.

The old lady watched her for a moment steadily. Then she inquired,--

"Do you know what's the matter with you, Electra?"

"With me, grandmother?"

"You're jealous, child. You're jealous of Peter, because the girl's so
pretty."

Electra stood still, the color surging over her face. She felt out of
doors for all the world to jeer at, and without the blameless habit of
her life. Nothing, Electra told herself, even at that moment, had the
value of the truth. If she believed herself to be jealous, she must not
shirk it, degrading as it was. But she would not believe it.

"You must excuse me, grandmother," she said, with dignity. "I can't
discuss such things, even with you."

Madam Fulton spoke quite eagerly.

"But, bless you, child, I like you the better for it. It makes you
human. Your decorum is the only thing I've ever had to complain of. If I
could find a weakness in you now and then, we should agree like two peas
in a pod."

Electra stood taller and straighter.

"At least," she said, "the young woman is here, and we have got to do
our best about it."

"The young woman! Don't talk as if she were a kitchen wench. What's the
use, Electra! What's the sense in being so irreproachable? Come off your
stilts while we're alone together."

"But, grandmother," said Electra, with an accession of firmness, and
leaving irrelevant strictures to be considered in the silence of her
room, "I shall neither acknowledge her nor shall I invite her here."

"You won't acknowledge her?"

"Not until she brings me proof."

"You won't ask for it?"

"I shan't ask for it. It is for her to act, not for me."

"And you won't have her here? Then, by George, Electra, I will!"

Electra raised her eyebrows by the slightest possible space. It was
involuntary, but the old lady saw it.

"You're quite right," she said ironically, "the house isn't mine."

"The house is yours to do exactly as you please with it," said Electra,
with an instant justice instinct even with a dutiful warmth. "Any guest
you invite is welcome. Only, grandmother, I must beg of you not to
invite this particular person."

"Person! Electra, you make me mad. Be human; come, unbend a little. Take
the p