much better than white dresses, and a
professional entertainer, and dancing, and too much ice-cream," said
Mrs. Burgoyne to Mrs. Adams.

"Of course they do," said Mrs. Adams, who had her own reasons for
turning rather red and speaking somewhat faintly. "And it's much less
work, and much less expense," she added.

"Now it is, when they can be out-of-doors," said Mrs. Burgoyne; "but in
winter they do make awful work indoors. However, there is tramping for
dry weather, and I mean to have a stove set up in the old billiard-room
down-stairs and turn them all loose in there when it's wet.
Theatricals, and pasting things, and singing, and now and then
candy-making, is all fun. And one knows that they're safe, and piling
up happy memories of their home."

"You make a sort of profession of motherhood," said Mrs. White dryly.

"It IS my profession," said the hostess, with her happy laugh.

But her happiness had a sudden check in mid-August; Sidney found
herself no more immune from heartache than any other woman, no more
philosophical over a hurt. It was, she told herself, only a trifle,
after all. She was absurd to let it cloud the bright day for her and
keep her restless and wakeful at night. It was nothing. Only--

Only it was the first time that Barry had failed her. He was gone. Gone
without a word of explanation to anyone, leaving his work at the Mail
unfinished, leaving even Billy, his usual confidant, quite in the dark.
Sidney had noticed for days a certain moodiness and unresponsiveness
about him; had tried rather timidly to win him from it; had got up
uneasily half a dozen times in the night just past to look across the
garden to his house, and wonder why Barry's light burned on and on.

She had meant to send for him in the morning, but Billy, artlessly
appearing when the waffles came on at breakfast, remarked that Dad was
gone to San Francisco.

"To the city, Billy?" Sidney asked. "Didn't he say why?"

"He didn't even say goodbye," Billy replied cheerfully. "He just left a
note for Hayashi. It said he didn't know how long he would be gone."

Sidney tried with small success to deceive herself into thinking that
it was the mere mysteriousness of this that cut her. She presently went
down to see Mrs. Carew, and was fretted because that lady would for
some time discuss nothing but the successful treatment of insects on
the rose-bushes.

"Barry seems to have disappeared," said Sidney finally, in a casual
tone.