o hard.

"That will have to wait until another time. I have made a social visit
and we'll not spoil it with business."

"But--"

"I really think the boy's mother must attend to that herself. But I
shall tell her where to find you, and"--here she glanced at Peter--"all
about it."

"Thank you," said Harmony gratefully.

Peter had no finesse. He escorted Mrs. Boyer across the yard and through
the gate with hardly a word. With the gate closed behind them he turned
and faced her:--

"You are going away with a wrong impression, Mrs. Boyer."

Mrs. Boyer had been thinking hard as she crossed the yard. The result
was a resolution to give Peter a piece of her mind. She drew her ample
proportions into a dignity that was almost majesty.

"Yes?"

"I--I can understand why you think as you do. It is quite without
foundation."

"I am glad of that." There was no conviction in her voice.

"Of course," went on Peter, humbling himself for Harmony's sake, "I
suppose it has been rather unconventional, but Dr. Gates is not a young
woman by any means, and she takes very good care of Miss Wells. There
were reasons why this seemed the best thing to do. Miss Wells was alone
and--"

"There is a Dr. Gates?"

"Of course. If you will come back and wait she'll be along very soon."

Mrs. Boyer was convinced and defrauded in one breath; convinced that
there might be a Dr. Gates, but equally convinced that the situation was
anomalous and certainly suspicious; defrauded in that she had lost the
anticipated pleasure of giving Peter a piece of her mind. She walked
along beside him without speaking until they reached the street-car
line. Then she turned.

"You called her--you spoke to her very affectionately, young man," she
accused him.

Peter smiled. The car was close. Some imp of recklessness, some
perversion of humor seized him.

"My dear Mrs. Boyer," he said, "that was in jest purely. Besides, I did
not know that you were there!"

Mrs. Boyer was a literal person without humor. It was outraged American
womanhood incarnate that got into the street-car and settled its
broadcloth of the best quality indignantly on the cane seat. It was
outraged American womanhood that flung open the door of Marie Jedlicka's
flat, and stalking into Marie Jedlicka's sitting room confronted her
husband as he read a month-old newspaper from home.

"Did you ever hear of a woman doctor named Gates?" she demanded.

Boyer was not unaccustomed to such ver