d truthfully and coldly. "I am going out
for the rest of the afternoon. Perhaps you will be able to control
yourself when I return."

It was not the most tactful speech in the world. But I was past caring
whether Dicky were angry or pleased. I am not very quick to wrath, but
when it is once roused my anger is intense.

"You know you are lying," he said loudly. "You are going to see this
precious-cousin-brother-lover, whichever he may be."

My fear that Katie or his mother would hear him overcame the primitive
impulse I had to avenge the insolent words with a blow, as a man
would.

"You will apologize for that language to me when I come back," I said
icily. "I do not know whether I shall go to bid Jack good-by or not. I
have no idea what I shall do, save that I must get away from here for
a little while. But if you have any sense of the ordinary decencies
of life you will lower your voice. I do not suppose you care to have
either your mother or Katie overhear this edifying conversation."

"Much you care about what my mother thinks," Dicky rejoined, and this
time his voice was querulous, but decidedly lower. "Fine courteous
treatment you're giving her, leaving her like this when she has been
in the house but a couple of hours."

"Your mother has shown such eagerness for my society that no doubt she
will be heartbroken if she awakens and finds that I am not here."

"That's right, slam my mother. Why didn't you say in the first place
you couldn't bear to have her in the same house with you?"

"Dicky, you are most unjust," I began hotly, and then stopped
horror-stricken.

"What is the matter, my son?" The incisive voice of my mother-in-law
sounded from the door of her room.

"Go back to bed, mother," Dicky said hastily. "I'm awfully sorry we
disturbed you."

"Disturbing me doesn't matter," she said decidedly, "but what you were
saying does. I heard you mention me, and I naturally wish to know if I
am the subject of this very remarkable conversation."

I know now where Dicky gets the sneering tone which sets me wild when
he directs it against me. His mother's inflection is exactly like her
son's. The contemptuous glance with which she swept me nerved me to
speak to her in a manner which I had never dreamed I would use toward
Dicky's mother.

"Mrs. Graham," I said, raising my head and returning her stare with
a look equally cold and steady, "my husband"--I emphasized the words
slightly--"and I are discussing s