l things by their
right names."

"Ken, I don't believe you're in good form. You'd much better come up to
Maine!"

Emily Tweksbury looked as if she wanted to cry; her expression was so
comical that Raymond laughed aloud.

"I'll come in August," he said at last. "I'll take the whole month and
frivol with you."

Mrs. Tweksbury was, however, not through with what she had to say. She
looked at the big, handsome fellow across the room and he seemed
suddenly to become very young and helpless, very much needing guidance,
and yet she knew how he would resent any such interference in his life.

"What's on your mind, Aunt Emily?"

Raymond had turned the tables--he smiled down upon the old lady with the
masterful tenderness of youth.

"Let's have it, dear."

Mrs. Tweksbury resorted to subterfuge.

"Well, having you off my hands," she said, smiling as if she really
meant what she said, "I am thinking of Doris Fletcher!"

"Do I know her?" Raymond tried to think.

"No. She left New York just about the time you came to me. She's a
wonderful woman, always was. Has a passion for helping others live their
lives--she's never had time to live her own."

"Bad business." Raymond shook his head.

"Oh! I don't know, boy. The older I grow the more inclined I am to
believe that it is only by helping others live that one lives himself."

This was trite and did not get anywhere, so Mrs. Tweksbury plunged a
trifle.

"Doris Fletcher is going to bring her niece out next winter; wants me to
help launch her."

Raymond made no response to this. He was not apt to be suspicious, but
he waited.

"She has twin nieces. Her younger sister died at their birth--she made a
sad marriage, poor girl, and the father of her children seems to have
been blotted off the map. The Fletchers were always silent and proud. I
greatly fear one of the twins takes after her obliterated parent, for
Doris rarely mentions her--it is always Nancy who is on exhibition; the
other girl is doing that abominable thing--securing her economic
freedom, whatever that may mean. Doris has tried to make me understand,
but how girls as rich as those girls are going to be can want to go out
and support themselves I do not understand--it's thieving. Nothing less.
Taking bread from women who haven't money."

Mrs. Tweksbury sniffed scornfully and Raymond laughed. He wasn't
interested.

Mrs. Tweksbury saw she was losing ground and made a third attempt.

"But this Nancy seem