which she seemed destined to remain concerning this affair, went off
and wrote her invitation to Mrs. Lapham. Later in the evening, when
they again found themselves alone, her son said, "I don't think I
understood you, mother, in regard to the Laphams. I think I do now. I
certainly don't wish you to make more of the acquaintance than I have
done. It wouldn't be right; it might be very unfortunate. Don't give
the dinner!"

"It's too late now, my son," said Mrs. Corey. "I sent my note to Mrs.
Lapham an hour ago." Her courage rose at the trouble which showed in
Corey's face. "But don't be annoyed by it, Tom. It isn't a family
dinner, you know, and everything can be managed without embarrassment.
If we take up the affair at this point, you will seem to have been
merely acting for us; and they can't possibly understand anything more."

"Well, well! Let it go! I dare say it's all right At any rate, it can't
be helped now."

"I don't wish to help it, Tom," said Mrs. Corey, with a cheerfullness
which the thought of the Laphams had never brought her before. "I am
sure it is quite fit and proper, and we can make them have a very
pleasant time. They are good, inoffensive people, and we owe it to
ourselves not to be afraid to show that we have felt their kindness to
us, and his appreciation of you."

"Well," consented Corey. The trouble that his mother had suddenly cast
off was in his tone; but she was not sorry. It was quite time that he
should think seriously of his attitude toward these people if he had
not thought of it before, but, according to his father's theory, had
been merely dangling.

It was a view of her son's character that could hardly have pleased her
in different circumstances, yet it was now unquestionably a consolation
if not wholly a pleasure. If she considered the Laphams at all, it was
with the resignation which we feel at the evils of others, even when
they have not brought them on themselves.

Mrs. Lapham, for her part, had spent the hours between Mrs. Corey's
visit and her husband's coming home from business in reaching the same
conclusion with regard to Corey; and her spirits were at the lowest
when they sat down to supper. Irene was downcast with her; Penelope
was purposely gay; and the Colonel was beginning, after his first plate
of the boiled ham,--which, bristling with cloves, rounded its bulk on a
wide platter before him,--to take note of the surrounding mood, when
the door-bell