laconically. "Dad, will you
please help me to some of the well-done?"

"Subjects," old Hector struck in, "which, twenty years ago, only the
family doctor was supposed to be familiar with or permitted to discuss
are now being agitated in women's clubs, books, newspapers, and the
public schools. You can't smother sin or the facts of life unless they
occur separately. In the case of Nan Brent they have developed
coincidently; so we find it hard to regard her as normal and human."

"Do you condone her offense, Hector?" Mrs. McKaye demanded
incredulously.

"I am a firm believer in the sacredness of marriage, I cannot conceive
of a civilization worth while without it," The Laird declared
earnestly. "Nevertheless, while I know naught of Nan Brent's case,
except that which is founded on hearsay evidence, I can condone her
offense because I can understand it. She might have developed into a
far worse girl than it appears from Donald's account she is. At least,
Nellie, she bore her child and cherishes it, and, under the rules of
society as we play it, that required a kind of courage in which a
great many girls are deficient. Give her credit for that."

"Apparently she has been frank," Elizabeth answered him coolly. "On
the other hand, father McKaye, her so-called courage may have been
ignorance or apathy or cowardice or indifference. It all depends on
her point of view."

"I disagree with mother that it is not a matter of importance," Donald
persisted. "It is a matter of supreme importance to me that my mother
and sisters should not feel more charity toward an unfortunate member
of their sex; and I happen to know that it is a matter of terrible
importance to Nan Brent that in Port Agnew people regard her as
unclean and look at her askance. And because that vacillating old
Daney didn't have the courage to fly in the face of Port Agnew's
rotten public opinion, he subjected Nan Brent and her helpless old
father to the daily and nightly association of depraved people. If
_he_ should dare to say one word against"

"Oh, it wasn't because Andrew was afraid of public opinion, lad,"
Hector McKaye interrupted him dryly. "Have you no power o'deduction?
Twas his guid wife that stayed his hand, and well I know it."

"I dare say, dad," Donald laughed. "Yes; I suppose I'll have to
forgive him."

"She'll be up to-morrow, my dear, to discuss the matter with you," The
Laird continued, turning to his wife. "I know her well. Beware of
ex