dashed out of the
door and bowed to him from the crossing, quite like a young lady, for
all her short skirts--she really did look fetching! Dr. Denbigh smiled
at her, but not the way he used to smile at Peggy. I really thought he
cared for Peggy once, though he's so much older that nobody else seemed
to dream of such a thing.

Of course, after Alice went, I just sat there in the chair all humped
up, thinking of her last words.

The family are always harping on "Lorraine's influence." If they wanted
their dear Charles Edward made different from the way he is, why on
earth didn't they do it themselves, when they had the chance? That's
what I want to know! I know they mean to be nice to me, but they take
it for granted that every habit Charles Edward has or hasn't, and
everything he does or doesn't, is because I didn't do something that I
ought to have done, or condoned something that I ought not. They seem to
think that a man is made of soft, kindergarten clay, and all a wife has
to do is to sit down and mould him as she pleases. Well, some men may be
like that, but Peter isn't. The family never really have forgiven me for
calling their darling "Charles Edward" Peter. I perfectly loathe that
long-winded Walter-Scotty name, and I don't care how many grandfathers
it's descended from. I'm sorry, of course, if it hurts their feelings,
but as long as _I_ don't object to their calling him what THEY like,
I don't see why they mind. And as for my managing Peter, they know
perfectly well that, though he's a darling, he's just mulishly
obstinate. He's had his own way ever since he was born; the whole family
simply adore him. His mother has always waited on him hand and foot,
though she's sensible enough with the other children. If he looks
sulky she is perfectly miserable. I am really very fond of my
mother-in-law--that is, I am fond of her IN SPOTS. There are times when
she understands how I feel about Peter better than any one else--like
that dreadful spring when he had pneumonia and I was nearly wild. I
know she is dreadfully unselfish and kind, but she WILL think--they all
do--that they know what Peter needs better than I do, and whenever they
see me alone it's to hint that I ought to keep him from smoking too much
and being extravagant, and that I should make him wear his overcoat
and go to bed early and take medicine when he has a cold. And through
everything else they hark back to that everlasting, "If you'd only exert
yo