-oh, piffle!"

"Well," Cicily declared, not a whit abashed, "if I were Charles, I'd
start up again, pay wages, and sell to the independents."

The seriousness with which the young woman spoke for a moment betrayed
Delancy into discussing business with one of the unintelligent sex.

"But his contracts!" he objected.

"What are contracts," Cicily interrupted serenely, "when the workmen are
hungry?"

"There, Emma!" Delancy cried, in deep disgust. "Do you hear? Now, isn't
that just like a woman?"

"Yes, James," Mrs. Delancy answered meekly; "I know that you're right.
But, somehow, I think Cicily, too, is right."

At this paradoxical pronouncement, Delancy stared fixedly at his wife in
stark amazement.

"What!" he gasped. "What! After forty years, you say that to me! You
question my business judgment! Emma, you, my wife!" He struggled wildly
for a few seconds to gain control of his emotions. "No," he continued
bitterly; "I deserve it for forgetting myself. I beg my own pardon for
mentioning a word of business to a woman.... I'm going to Charles--poor
fellow!" After a long, resentful stare directed against his former ward,
he marched out of the room.

"See what you've made me do!" Mrs. Delancy said accusingly to her niece,
as the two were left alone together. "Why, I've actually appeared
rebellious to James."

"You ought to have been so years ago," Cicily rejoined, stubbornly.

But Mrs. Delancy could only shake her head morosely in negation of this
audacious idea. Then, her thoughts reverted to the young woman's
doubtful position.

"How is it all going to end?" was her despondent query.

"You mean, when are Charles and I going to make public the true state of
affairs? When are we going to part before the world?" The old lady
nodded acquiescence. "Well, that will be when the strike is over, and
Charles's business troubles are settled--not before."

"If this sort of thing keeps on," Mrs. Delancy announced, with another
access of self-pity, "your Uncle Jim and I probably will be parted by
that time, too!"

"Nonsense!" Cicily jeered, smitten to sudden compunction for her part in
causing distress of mind to the woman whom she really loved and honored.
"Why, Auntie, if you were to leave Uncle Jim, whom would he have to
bully? Pooh, dear, you and he'll never part."

Again, the old lady's thoughts veered from herself.

"But, Cicily," she ventured, "you're doing your best to prolong the
strike. You're actually gi