who had died at sixteen--a
tragedy such as once would have been renewed in a vital ballad. At the
end she yawned frankly as if, in some terrible sophistication, she had
been telling the story of some one else.

"Give us one more piece," she said.

"Can we?" Cornish asked.

"I can play 'I Think When I Read That Sweet Story of Old,'" Lulu said.

"That's the ticket!" cried Cornish.

They sang it, to Lulu's right hand.

"That's the one you picked out when you was a little girl, Lulie,"
cried, Mrs. Bett.

Lulu had played it now as she must have played it then.

Half after nine and Di had not returned. But nobody thought of Di.
Cornish rose to go.

"What's them?" Mrs. Bett demanded.

"Dwight's letters, mamma. You mustn't touch them!" Lulu's voice was
sharp.

"Say!" Cornish, at the door, dropped his voice. "If there was anything I
could do at any time, you'd let me know, wouldn't you?"

That past tense, those subjunctives, unconsciously called upon her to
feel no intrusion.

"Oh, thank you," she said. "You don't know how good it is to feel--"

"Of course it is," said Cornish heartily.

They stood for a moment on the porch. The night was one of low clamour
from the grass, tiny voices, insisting.

"Of course," said Lulu, "of course you won't--you wouldn't--"

"Say anything?" he divined. "Not for dollars. Not," he repeated, "for
dollars."

"But I knew you wouldn't," she told him.

He took her hand. "Good-night," he said. "I've had an awful nice time
singing and listening to you talk--well, of course--I mean," he cried,
"the supper was just fine. And so was the music."

"Oh, no," she said.

Mrs. Bett came into the hall.

"Lulie," she said, "I guess you didn't notice--this one's from Ninian."

"Mother--"

"I opened it--why, of course I did. It's from Ninian."

Mrs. Bett held out the opened envelope, the unfolded letter, and a
yellowed newspaper clipping.

"See," said the old woman, "says, 'Corie Waters, music hall
singer--married last night to Ninian Deacon--' Say, Lulie, that must be
her...."

Lulu threw out her hands.

"There!" she cried triumphantly. "He _was_ married to her, just like he
said!"

* * * * *

The Plows were at breakfast next morning when Lulu came in casually at
the side-door. Yes, she said, she had had breakfast. She merely wanted
to see them about something. Then she said nothing, but sat looking with
a troubled frown at Jenny. Jenny's hair