her you are at Thatcher's mercy, are you? I haven't spoken
to her about this and she hasn't said anything to me; but Marian with
her usual heedlessness mentioned it, and it was clear that Aunt Sally
was very angry."

"What did she say?" asked Bassett anxiously.

"She didn't say anything, but she shut her jaw tight and changed the
subject. It was what she didn't say! You'd better think well before you
broach the subject to her."

"I've been thinking about it. If I take her stock at par she ought to be
satisfied. I'll pay more if it's necessary. And of course I'll make
every effort to restore good feeling. I think I understand her. I'll
take care of this, but you must stay out of it, and tell Marian to keep
quiet.

"Well, Aunt Sally and Thatcher are friends. He rather amuses her, with
his horse-racing, and drinking and gambling. That kind of thing doesn't
seem so bad to her. She's so used to dealing with men that she makes
allowances for them."

"Then," he said quickly, with a smile, eager to escape through any
loophole, "maybe she will make some allowances for me! For the purpose
of allaying her anger we'll assume that I'm as wicked as Thatcher."

"Well," she answered, gathering her strength for a final assault, "it
doesn't look as simple as that to me. Your first mistake was in getting
her into any of your businesses and the second was in making it possible
for Thatcher to annoy her by all this ugly publicity of a lawsuit. And
what do you think has happened on top of all this--_that girl is
here_--here under this very roof!"

"That girl--what girl?"

His opacity incensed her; she had been brooding over her aunt's renewed
interest in Sylvia Garrison all day and his dull ignorance was the last
straw upon nerves screwed to the breaking-point. She sat up in bed and
drew her dressing-gown about her as though it were the vesture of
despair.

"That Garrison girl! She's not only back here, but from all appearances
she's going to stay! Aunt Sally's infatuated with her. When the girl's
grandfather died, Aunt Sally did everything for her--went over to
Montgomery to take charge of the funeral, and then went back to
Wellesley to see the girl graduate. And now she's giving up her plan of
going to Waupegan for the summer to stay here in all the heat with a
girl who hasn't the slightest claim on her. When the Keltons visited
Waupegan four years ago I saw this coming. I wanted Marian to go to
college and tried to get you int