in
uneasily. "I'm going to give all that a thorough cleaning when I get
around to it!"

She was obviously relieved when Julia gave the whole thing up as a bad
job, and went back to her aimless wandering about the house. Mrs. Cox
never went out except to church, but now and then Julia went down to
Mrs. Tarbury's and vaguely discussed the advisability of taking a
theatrical engagement, exactly as if several very definite offers were
under consideration.

Just at this time Julia's youngest uncle, Chester Cox, wrote his mother
from the big prison at San Quentin that he was coming home. The letter,
pencilled on two sheets of lined, grayish paper, caused a good deal of
discussion between Mrs. Cox, her husband, and her granddaughters.
Chester, now about thirty years old, had been pardoned because of late
evidence in his favour, when a five-year term for burglary was but one
quarter served, but in his old father's eyes a jailbird was a jailbird,
and Chester was still in some mysterious way to blame. Mrs. Cox was only
concerned because the boy was ill and out of a job and apt to prove a
burden, but the three girls, frankly curious about him, nevertheless
reserved judgment. He had always been an idler, he had always been a
weakling, but if he really were accused falsely, they could champion him
still.

The day he had set for his return was a Sunday, but he arrived
unexpectedly on the Saturday afternoon, to find great trouble in the
Mission Street house. Evelyn and Marguerite were free for the afternoon,
and were in the kitchen with Julia and their grandmother. It had lately
come to Evelyn's ears that her grandfather had been borrowing money on
the little property, and old Mrs. Cox was beside herself with anger and
fear. The house was her one hope against a destitute old age. She fairly
writhed at the contemplation of her husband's treachery in undermining
that one stay. While she was slaving and struggling, he had airily
disposed of three hundred dollars. She was stifled by the thought.

"He'd ought to be sent to jail for it!" the old woman said bitterly.

"You can't do it," Evelyn, the bearer of the badnews, assured her
impatiently.

"Well, he'll see what I can do, when he gets home!" Mrs. Cox muttered.
Julia, distressed by the scene, laid her hand over her grandmother's old
knotted one, as she sat beside her at the table, but could find no words
with which to comfort her. Her soul was sick with this fresh sordid
revelat