ld Martha Skeffington!"

"She's not so difficult, once you get to know her," replied Del. "I find
that everything depends on the point of view you take in looking at
people. I've been getting better acquainted with Dory's aunt the last few
weeks. I think she has begun to like me. We'll get along."

"Don't you think you'd better wait till Dory gets back?"

"No," said Adelaide firmly, a look in her eyes which made her mother say
to herself: "There's the Ranger in her."

They drove in silence awhile; then Del, with an effort which brought a
bright color to her cheeks, began: "I want to tell you, mother, that I
went to Judge Torrey this morning, and made over to you the income
father left me."

"Whatever did you do _that_ for?" cried Ellen, turning in the seat to
stare at her daughter through her glasses.

"I promised Dory I would. I've spent some of the money--about fifteen
hundred dollars--You see, the house was more expensive than I thought.
But everything's paid up now."

"I don't need it, and don't want it," said Ellen. "And I won't take it!"

"I promised Dory I would--before we were married. He thinks I've done it.
I've let him think so. And--lately--I've been having a sort of house
cleaning--straightening things up--and I straightened that up, too."

Ellen Ranger understood. A long pause, during which she looked lovingly
at her daughter's beautiful face. At last she said: "No, there don't seem
to be no other way out of it." Then, anxiously, "You ain't written Dory
what you've done?"

"No," replied Del. "Not yet."

"Not never!" exclaimed her mother. "That's one of the things a body
mustn't ever tell anyone. You did wrong; you've done right--and it's all
settled and over. He'd probably understand if you told him. But he'd
never quite trust you the same again--that's human nature."

"But _you'd_ trust me," objected Del.

"I'm older'n Dory," replied her mother; "and, besides, I ain't your
husband. There's no end of husbands and wives that get into hot water
through telling, where it don't do any earthly good and makes the other
one uneasy and unhappy."

Adelaide reflected. "It _is_ better not to tell him," she concluded.

Ellen was relieved. "That's common sense," said she. "And you can't use
too much common sense in marriage. The woman's got to have it, for the
men never do where women are concerned." She reflected a few minutes,
then, after a keen glance at her daughter and away, she said with an
appe