n my own house, Mrs. Pinkerton."

"Certainly you have a right to speak your own opinion in your own
house," she replied, with the least little sarcastic emphasis on "your
own house," which cut me to the quick.

"But you don't seem to think so," I said. "You have had a way of
snubbing me and putting me down which I don't propose to tolerate any
longer. I am master of my own conduct and of my own household, and I
hope, in future, that my liberty may not be interfered with."

The widow's lip quivered, her great eyes moistened, and she left the
table, not because she was offended, but to hide her injured feelings. I
felt mean, and would have apologized, but that I felt that my cause was
at stake. There was no after-explanation. My mother-in-law came and went
about the house as usual, calm and polite. A silly woman would have
refused to speak to me for some weeks; but she was not a silly woman,
and took pains to speak with the most studied politeness, and to avoid
offence. Here, too, she had evidently surrendered.

This was victory number two. One more and the battle was won. It was a
Sunday in June. I had especially invited Mr. Desmond and his niece to
come out to dinner and to spend the afternoon, and had insisted to Fred
Marston that he should come with his wife. I wanted to vindicate my
right to have what friends I pleased, and then I didn't care overmuch if
I never saw him again. Mrs. Pinkerton had gone to church alone as usual.
For some weeks Bessie had been unable to accompany her, and I preferred
the sanctuary at which the scholarly, but heterodox, Mr. Freeman
preached. When she returned, our guests had arrived. She put on her
eye-glasses as she entered the gate, and looked about with evident
disapproval, as we were scattered over the lawn. She did not believe in
Sunday visits. She was even stiff and distant to Mr. Desmond, and
refused to see the Marstons at all, though they were directly before her
eyes. She walked straight into the house.

"By Jove," said George to me in an undertone, "that isn't right! I shall
speak to mother about cutting your guests in that way."

"Never mind," I replied, "don't you say a word; I want an opportunity."

He saw it in a minute, and acquiesced with a queer smile. He fully
sympathized with me, and had even encouraged me in the work of
emancipation. He had the utmost respect and affection for his mother,
but he said it was not right for her to make my home unpleasant.

That Su