t to be deflected. "What, mother, would you have thought
of your son if he left that beautiful figure--for she is beautiful--"

"You don't say," said Dick.

"To be buffeted by the waves of 'dead man's curve?'"

"Oh, how awful!" murmured the old lady. "How _perfectly_ dreadful."

It was at this point that Dick Van Plank unostentatiously left the room.

"But I didn't do it, mother," cried John, thumping his chest and anxious
to make his full effect before the return of an enlightened and possibly
enlightening Dick. "No, I thought of this big house, with only us three
in it, and I said 'I'll bring her home.' Edith will love her. Edith will
give her friendship, advice, guidance. She will even give her something
to wear instead of the unsuitable things she has on. And what do I
find?" He paused and looked around dramatically and warningly as Dick,
with a beautified grin, returned. "Does Edith open her heart to her?
No. Does Edith open her arms to her? No. All that Edith opens to her is
the door which leads--who can tell where, whither?"

"I can tell," said Dick, "it leads right straight to my little diggings.
If Edith throws her out, I'll take her in."

"Oh, noble, noble man," ejaculated John remembering the emotional woman,
"but ah! that must not be. I took her hand in mine--by the way, did I
tell you, she has beautiful little hands, not at all what I should have
expected."

"You did not," said Dick. "And now that'll be about all from you. You're
just about through."

"My opinion is," said Edith darkly, "that you are both either crazy or
worse."

"Go down and see her for yourself," urged Dick, "so quiet, so
reserved--hush! hark! she's coming up. Now be nice to her whatever you
feel! I'll be taking her away in a minute or two."

But it was Mary Van Plank who came in. Mary, all blooming and glowing
from the cold.

"Who's that in the reception-room?" she asked when the greetings were
over and she was warming her slender hands before the fire. "She's the
prettiest dear. She was standing at the window and she smiled so sweetly
at me as I came up the steps."

John looked at Dick.

"Yes," admitted that unabashed delinquent, "I left her at the window
when I came up."

"Alas! poor child," sighed John, looking out into the night. "She'll be
there soon."

"What is she going out for at this time?" Mary demanded. "I quite
thought that she, too, had come to dinner. Who is she, Mrs. Sedyard?"

Upon her mother's helpl