o. They're gone for a picnic
and won't be back until dark."

"Yes. I saw them start out. How is she?"

"Shirley's quite well. And seemingly enjoying herself."

"I suppose so," he said.

"And the boy, too."

"Yes. I just saw him. He--" David cleared his throat. "He didn't
know me."

"That's to be expected. Children forget easily. You're not looking
well yourself."

"I've been working pretty hard of late."

"Are you on your vacation?" Aunt Clara was studying him curiously.

"No. I have just to-day. I came to get Shirley to come back."

"Are you out of debt then?"

"Not quite."

"You've had a raise? Or has something better turned up?"

"I've had one little raise. Nothing else has happened--that I can
count on. But we can get along nicely now, thanks to your help."

"For which you're not thankful at all," she smiled grimly.

"It was a mistake."

"Humph!" she sniffed. "Have you lived with Shirley four years without
learning that she can't stand--"

"Suppose," he interrupted quietly, "suppose we don't criticize Shirley.
I shan't criticize you, either. I blame myself for letting her come
here. Now we're going to correct that mistake."

Aunt Clara sniffed again. "What has got into you? You used to have no
more spirit than a mouse. Now you remind me of your late Uncle John in
some of his moods. Suppose Shirley thinks it better--_sniff_--to stay
here a while longer? If you're not out of debt you'll still have to
pinch pennies and--"

He interrupted again, still quietly. "You must help to convince her it
is best. She must come--before it is too late."

"What do you mean by that--'before it is too late'?"

"I mean--while I still want her to come."

"Eh?" Aunt Clara stared sharply at him. She put on her spectacles,
that she might stare more effectively.

Then a light broke in on her, a light too incredible, too dazing even
for Aunt Clara's confident mind. "Eh? David Quentin! Do you mean to
tell me--do you mean--there is another woman? Who is she?"

He made no answer, but though his tired face went even whiter, steadily
withstood her gaze.

"Such a thing never happened in our family before," Aunt Clara gasped
weakly, "that I ever heard of. I don't know what to do about it."

"There is only one thing," he said steadily. "Shirley must come back
at once."

Aunt Clara took off her spectacles, rubbed them mechanically and donned
them again. Her hands fell nerveless to