at papa that
election night."

"But nobodies haven't any right to publish such untruths!" said Mrs.
Heth, more grammatical than she sounded. "They ought to be punished,
imprisoned for it. 'Public opinion is the grandfather of statute-book
law.' Where's the sense in that?..."

"It's probably one of those Socialistic things.... They said the man who
threw the brick at papa was a Socialist."

"'Shameless egoists of industry--grow rich by homicide!' I'm greatly
surprised at Mr. West for printing such fanatical stuff. I trust your
father did not see this. He gave forty dollars to the tuberculosis fund,
and this is his reward."

She fumed and interjected awhile further, but her daughter's thought
had dreamed far away. From her childhood days she had carried a
mind's-eye picture of the dominant fourth member of the family, the
great Works, lord and giver of her higher life, which completely refuted
these occasional assaults from socialists and failures. Their malicious
bricks flew high over her girlish head. Presently Mrs. Heth rose,
looking about for her novel, which was a glittering new one, frankly for
entertainment only, and not half-cultural like "Pickwick." The two
ladies moved together for the bedrooms.

"You had better get a little nap, too," said Mrs. Heth, "to be fresh for
the evening."

"It's so early now. Perhaps I may stroll down for a few minutes first."

"Well--it's so quiet I feel as if we had the place to ourselves. But
come up in plenty of time for a nap before dinner.... You're here to get
two days of good rest."

"I'll shut the door between," said Carlisle.

Before long, from the mother's side of the door so shut, certain sounds
arose indicating that after the morning's fitful fever she slept well.
Carlisle, on her own side, quickly donned a white boating-dress, a blue
fillet for her hair, and white doeskin shoes with rubber soles. That
done, she went out through the sitting-room, shot down in the lift,
traversed the forsaken lobby, and emerged upon the long empty boating
pavilion which ran from the hotel's side-entrance well out over
the water.

"The bell-boy gave you my message, Mr. Wedge?" said she, to the
weather-tanned renter of boats. "How do you do? I'm late. How's the
little Lady Jane?"

"How you, Miss Heth? Glad to see you back again, Miss. Lady Jane's trim
as ever. Yes'm. And there's a little sou' breeze coming up--puffy, but
just suit her."

"Bring her up a little more."

"Yes