ould steal you
away from me. We'll make it a double wedding, baby!"

"Mamma! Mamma! I'll never leave you."

"All right, then, so you won't think your new father and me want to get
rid of you, the first thing we'll pick out in our new home, he said it
himself to-night, 'is Alma's room.'"

"I tell you it's wrong. It's wrong!"

"The rest with Leo can come later, after I've proved to you for a little
while that I'm cured. Alma, don't cry! It's my cure. Just think, a good
man! A beautiful home to take my mind off--worry. He said to-night he
wants to spend a fortune, if necessary, to cure--my neuralgia."

"Oh, mamma! Mamma! if it were only--that!"

"Alma, if I promise on my--my life! I never felt the craving so little
as I do--now."

"You've said that before--and before."

"But never with such a wonderful reason. It's the beginning of a new
life. I know it. I'm cured!"

"Mamma, if I thought you meant it."

"I do. Alma, look at me. This very minute I've a real jumping case of
neuralgia. But I wouldn't have anything for it except the electric pad.
I feel fine. Strong. Alma, the bad times with me are over."

"Oh, mamma! Mamma, how I pray you're right."

"You'll thank God for the day that Louis Latz proposed to me. Why, I'd
rather cut off my right hand than marry a man who could ever live to
learn such a--thing about me."

"But it's not fair. We'll have to explain to him, dear, that we hope
you're cured now, but--"

"If you do--if you do--I'll kill myself! I won't live to bear that! You
don't want me cured. You want to get rid of me, to degrade me until I
kill myself! If I was ever anything else than what I am now--to Louis
Latz--anything but his ideal--Alma, you won't tell! Kill me, but don't
tell--don't tell!"

"Why, you know I wouldn't, sweetheart, if it is so terrible to you.
Never."

"Say it again."

"Never."

"As if it hasn't been terrible enough that you should have to know. But
it's over, Alma. Your bad times with me are finished. I'm cured."

There were no words that Miss Samstag could force through the choke of
her tears, so she sat cheek to her mother's cheek, the trembling she
could no longer control racing through her like a chill.

"Oh--how--I hope so!"

"I know so."

"But wait a little while, mamma--just a year."

"No! No!"

"A few months."

"No, he wants it soon. The sooner the better at our age. Alma, mamma's
cured! What happiness! Kiss me, darling. So help me God to keep my
pr