, Becky. Mrs. Flippin and I are grandmothers----"
She said it with a sort of bitter mirth.

"What did Grandfather say?"

"I left him--raging. It was--very hard on me. I had hoped--he would make
it easy. He declares that Mary Flippin shan't step inside of his front
door. That he is going to recall all the invitations that he had sent
out for to-night. I tried to show him that now that the thing is
done--we might as well--accept it. But he wouldn't listen. If he keeps
it up like this, I don't want Truxton to come back--to lunch. I had
hoped that he might bring Mary with him---- She's his wife, Becky--and
I've got to love her----"

"Aunt Claudia," Becky came over and put her arms about the pitiful black
figure, "you are the best sport--ever----"

"No, I'm not," but Aunt Claudia kissed her, and for a moment they clung
together; "you mustn't make me cry, Becky."

But she did cry a little, wiping her eyes with her black-bordered
handkerchief, and saying all the time, "He's my son, Becky. I--I can't
put him away from me----"

"He loved her," said Becky, with a catch of her breath. "I--I think that
counts a great deal, Aunt Claudia."

"Yes, it does. And they did no wrong. They were only foolish children."

"If anyone was to blame," she went on steadily, "it was Truxton. He had
been brought up a--gentleman. He knew what was expected of a man of his
birth and breeding. Secrecy is never honorable and I told him--last
night--that I was sorry to be less proud of my son than of the men who
had gone before him."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Yes. If pride of family means anything, Becky, it means holding on to
the finest of your traditions. If you break the rules--you are a little
less fine--a little less worthy----"

What a stern little thing she was. Yet one felt the stimulus of her
strength. "Aunt Claudia," said Becky, tremulously, "if I could only be
as sure of things as you are----"

"What things?"

"Of right and wrong and all the rest of it."

"I don't know what you mean by all the rest. But right is right, and
wrong is wrong, my dear. There is no half-way, in spite of all the
sophistries with which people try to salve their consciences."

She stopped, and plunged again into the discussion of her problem. "I
must telephone to Truxton--he mustn't come--not until his grandfather
asks him, Becky."

"He is coming now," said Becky, who sat by the window. "Look, Aunt
Claudia."

Tramping up the hill towards the sec