nd the highest elation were
accompanied by such slight variations of look and tone that they escaped
almost every one but Adelaide herself. He came down to dinner that
evening, and while Adelaide sat in silence, with her elbows on the table
and her long fingers clasping and unclasping themselves in a sort of
rhythmic desperation, conversation went on pleasantly enough between
Mathilde and Vincent. This was facilitated by the fact that Mathilde had
now transferred to Vincent the flattering affection which she used to
give to her grandfather. She agreed with, wondered at, and drank in
every word.

Naturally, Mathilde attributed her mother's distress to the crisis in her
own love-affairs. She had had no word with her as to Wayne's new
position, and it came to her in a flash that it would be daring, but
wise, to take the matter up in the presence of her stepfather. So, as
soon as they were in the drawing-room, and Farron had opened the evening
paper, and his wife, with a wild decision, had opened a book, Mathilde
ruthlessly interrupted them both, recalling them from what appeared to be
the depths of absorptions in their respective pages by saying:

"Mr. Farron, did you tell Mama what you had done about Pete?"

Farron raised his eyes and said:

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

"What is there for me to say?" answered Adelaide in the terrible, crisp
voice that Mathilde hated.

There was a pause. To Mathilde it seemed extraordinary the way older
people sometimes stalled and shifted about perfectly obvious issues; but,
wishing to be patient, she explained:

"Don't you see it makes some difference in our situation?"

"The greatest, I should think," said Adelaide, and just hinted that she
might go back to her book at any instant.

"But don't you think--" Mathilde began again, when Farron interrupted her
almost sharply.

"Mathilde," he said, "there's a well-known business axiom, not to try to
get things on paper too early."

She bent her head a trifle on one side in the way a puppy will when an
unusual strain is being put upon its faculties. It seemed to her curious,
but she saw she was being advised to drop the subject. Suddenly Adelaide
sprang to her feet and said she was going to bed.

"I hope your headache will be better, Mama," Mathilde hazarded; but
Adelaide went without answering. Mathilde looked at Mr. Farron.

"You haven't learned to wait," he said.

"It's so hard to wait when you are on bad terms with p