own way again, only wishing that it
was not necessary for both father and mother to be so occupied with
outside interests that they had little time for their one child.

After a time he left his machine to look out of the window, and as he
stood, he saw his mother. She had left her small runabout, and David was
leading the horse to the stables.

He saw her enter the house. In a moment he heard her talking in her
sweet voice to one of the servants before she mounted the stairs to her
own room. She would then, Graham knew, be in the hands of her maid for a
long time, since she was giving a formal dinner party that evening.

When the shadows were lengthening Graham left his room and wandered
aimlessly around the house. Finally he reached the kitchen, where he sat
for a time, watching the imported French chef's noble efforts for the
coming dinner, efforts that must result in the wide proclamation of Mrs.
Graham Woods Bartlett as an original hostess. But in the kitchen it was
made manifest that Graham's presence was not welcome. At last, feeling
this truth, he left.

The maid, coming from his mother's room and meeting him in the hall,
told him that his dinner was to be served at six in his own room. "Your
mother thought you'd like that," she finished.

Graham nodded without speaking and went on once more to his own room. He
felt lonely, dispirited. Old Nancy, to whom he might have turned, had
gone to her old home to visit some grandchildren. David, he knew, would
be very busy.

At six the boy's dinner was brought, and with the hearty appetite of
boyhood he ate. Afterwards he read a little, and then, feeling tired, he
concluded to retire. But he did not go to sleep at once. Occasionally he
heard interesting sounds from below, music from a string orchestra,
laughter of women, and the bass voices of men.

At nine o'clock he was still lying awake when he heard a little running
step outside his door. Out of an impulse he called softly, "Mother."

Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett, on her way to her private safe for a piece
of jade she wished to show one of her guests, paused at the call. Then
she pushed open Graham's door, which was slightly ajar, and went in.
Graham sat up. By the glow of a small electric light near his bed he
could plainly see his mother. She was a beautiful vision in her soft
white gown, quite untouched by any color, her hair piled high upon her
small, finely shaped head.

"Did you call me, Graham?" she as