er had
the nerve to go, after the way they've treated him."

"Harold's not concerned with the feelings of the family," said Mr. Ranny;
"he is after Nell."

But Mrs. Ranny scorned the idea. "He looks upon her as a perfect child,"
she insisted; "besides, he's too lazy and conceited to be in love with
anybody but himself."

"That may be, but Nell's got him going all right."

Then the conversation veered back to the Martels, with the result that an
hour later Quin was on his way home bearing a gracefully worded note from
Mrs. Ranny inviting the children to spend the following week at Valley
Mead. But, in spite of the success of his mission, he sat with a box of
fresh eggs in his lap and a huge bunch of flowers in his hand, his hat
rammed over his eyes, staring gloomily out of the car window into the
starless night.

Since Eleanor's departure he had had no word from her, and the news that
filtered through Valley Mead was more disconcerting than the silence. The
thought of her dancing, sailing, and motoring with Harold Phipps filled
him with a frenzy of jealousy. He grew bitter at the thought of her
flitting heedlessly from one luxurious pleasure to another, while Cass
lay in that stifling city, fighting for his life and lacking even the
necessities for his comfort.

Every week since her departure he had written her, even though the
letters grew shorter and blunter as his duties increased. Up until now,
however, he, like every one else, had tried to shield Eleanor from
anything ugly and sordid. He had tried to make light of the situation and
reassure her as to results; but he was determined to do it no longer. It
wasn't right, he told himself angrily, for anybody to go through life
blinded to all the misery and suffering and poverty in the world. He was
going to write her to-night and tell her the whole story and spare her
nothing.

But he did not write. When he reached home Cass had had a turn for the
worse, and there were ice-baths to prepare and other duties to perform
that left him no time for himself.

The next day Edwin and Myrna were sent out to the Randolph Bartletts',
and Rose and Quin cleared the decks for the hard fight ahead. Fan Loomis
came in to help nurse in the day-time, and Quin was on duty through the
long, suffocating August nights.

At the end of the week Cass's condition was so serious that the Bartletts
insisted on keeping the children at the farm. Myrna had proved a cheery,
helpful little co