"Quite--thank Providence!"

"No. Thank me. All these years you've had that insurance money out
earning interest. You haven't had to use any of it, or even any of its
earnings----"

"It has grown, I'm happy to say."

"Until you have plenty. Meanwhile, I've paid all of your expenses, and
educated my brother. Now--you can dispense with--your meal-ticket."

"_Meal_-ticket!" It was not the implied charge, but the slang, that
shocked.

"Yes, meal-ticket."

"So you throw it up! You've been supporting me! And helping Wallace!"

"I've been glad to. Every hour at my machine has been a happy one.
I've never begrudged what I've done."

"Well, anyhow, I shan't need to take any more support from you, nor
will my son."

Sue laughed grimly. "I don't know about that, mother. I'm afraid he's
going to miss his chance to marry a rich girl. And he's never been
very successful in making his own way."

Mrs. Milo would not be diverted from the main issue. "I repeat, Susan:
You disobey me, as you've threatened to, and I'm done with you.
Understand that. You'll go your way, and I will go mine."

Sue nodded. She understood. Her mother had announced her ultimatum to
Farvel, and he had accepted it. Mrs. Milo could not return to the
Rectory. But if Sue continued her work there, it meant that she would
enjoy a happy companionship with the clergyman--a companionship
unhindered by the presence of the elder woman. Such a state of affairs
might even end in marriage. And now Sue knew it was marriage that her
mother feared.

"Very well, mother."

"Ah, you like the separation plan!"

"We're as wide apart in our ideas as the poles."

"I have certainly been very much mistaken in you. Though I thought I
knew my own daughter! But--you belong with the Farvels, and it's a
pity she has run away. Perhaps she'll turn up later on." She spoke
quietly, but she was livid with anger. "I shall not be there to
interfere with your friendship. I am going to the hotel now. You can
direct my poor boy to me, if it isn't too much trouble."

"So you are going." Then smiling wistfully, "But who will fuss over
you when you're not sick? And coax you out of your nerves? And wait
on you like a lady's maid? And how will you be able to keep an eye on
me, mother? 'Who's telephoning you, Susan?' And 'Who's your letter
from, darling?'" Then with sarcasm, "Oh, hen-pecked Susan, is it
possible that you'll be able to go to Church with