"Would you walk with me sometimes? To-morrow?"

"Sometimes. Not to-morrow. The day after."

"That's splendid!" he said. "You'll walk with me day after to-morrow,
and the night after that I'll see you at Miss Lamb's dance, won't I?"

But this fell rather chillingly upon Alice. "Miss Lamb's dance? Which
Miss Lamb?" she asked.

"I don't know--it's the one that's just coming out of mourning."

"Oh, Henrietta--yes. Is her dance so soon? I'd forgotten."

"You'll be there, won't you?" he asked. "Please say you're going."

Alice did not respond at once, and he urged her again: "Please do
promise you'll be there."

"No, I can't promise anything," she said, slowly. "You see, for one
thing, papa might not be well enough."

"But if he is?" said Russell. "If he is you'll surely come, won't you?
Or, perhaps----" He hesitated, then went on quickly, "I don't know the
rules in this place yet, and different places have different rules; but
do you have to have a chaperone, or don't girls just go to dances with
the men sometimes? If they do, would you--would you let me take you?"

Alice was startled. "Good gracious!"

"What's the matter?"

"Don't you think your relatives----Aren't you expected to go with
Mildred--and Mrs. Palmer?"

"Not necessarily. It doesn't matter what I might be expected to do," he
said. "Will you go with me?"

"I----No; I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I can't. I'm not going."

"But why?"

"Papa's not really any better," Alice said, huskily. "I'm too worried
about him to go to a dance." Her voice sounded emotional, genuinely
enough; there was something almost like a sob in it. "Let's talk of
other things, please."

He acquiesced gently; but Mrs. Adams, who had been listening to the
conversation at the open window, just overhead, did not hear him. She
had correctly interpreted the sob in Alice's voice, and, trembling
with sudden anger, she rose from her knees, and went fiercely to her
husband's room.

CHAPTER XIII

He had not undressed, and he sat beside the table, smoking his pipe and
reading his newspaper. Upon his forehead the lines in that old pattern,
the historical map of his troubles, had grown a little vaguer lately;
relaxed by the complacency of a man who not only finds his health
restored, but sees the days before him promising once more a familiar
routine that he has always liked to follow.

As his wife came in, closing the door behind her, he looked up
cheerfully, "Well, mother,"