ry, I'm afraid he'll almost lose his
mind."

"If mamma only hadn't been so decided," was Joyce's dubious answer. "It
does seem that you are right, and yet--we've never gone ahead and done
things before without her consent. I wish we could talk it over with
her."

"Well, I don't," persisted Mary. "I'm going home and I'm perfectly sure
that down in her heart she'll be glad that I took matters in my own
hands and decided to come--for Jack's sake if nothing else."

"Then we'd better telegraph her to-night--"

"No," interrupted Mary, "not until I'm leaving Washington. Then it will
be too late for her to stop me."

"Oh, dear, I don't know what to do about it," sighed Joyce wearily,
passing her hand over her eyes.

"Just help me gather up my things," was the firm reply. The big bandbox
still stood open in the middle of the floor and the hat with its wreath
of white lilacs lay atop just as Mary had dropped it. She stooped to
pick it up with a pathetic little smile that hurt Phil worse than tears,
and stood looking down on it as if it were something infinitely dear.

"The last thing Jack ever gave me," she said as if speaking to herself.
"It doesn't seem possible that it was only this afternoon we bought it.
It seems months since then--my last happy day!"

Henrietta's latch-key sounded in the lock of the front door, and Phil
rose to go, knowing the situation would all have to be explained to her.
No, there was nothing he could do, they assured him. Nothing anybody
could do. And promising to come around before train-time next morning
he took his leave, heart-sick over the tragedy that had ruined Jack's
life, and would always shadow the little family that had grown as dear
to him as his own.

CHAPTER XII

THE GOOD-BYE GATE

Fortunately they were so late in getting to the station that there was
no time for a prolonged leave-taking. Phil hurried away to the
baggage-room to check their trunks. Henrietta made a move as if to
follow. Her overwrought sympathies kept her nervously opening and
shutting her hands, for she dreaded scenes, and would not have put
herself in the way of witnessing a painful parting, had she not thought
she owed it to Joyce to stand by her to the last.

Joyce noticed the movement, and divining the cause, said with a little
smile, as she laid a detaining hand on her arm, "Don't be scared, Henry.
We are not going to have any high jinks, are we, Mary. We made the old
Vicar's acquaintance too