drew the child towards her.

"It isn't as terrible as you think," she said. "Many men who have risen
and taken a high place in the world were married to kind, good women
unable to share their greatness. There was Shakespeare, you know, who
married Anne Hathaway and had a clever daughter. She was just a nice,
homely body a few years older than himself. And he seems to have been
very fond of her; and was always running down to Stratford to be with
her."

"Yes, but he didn't bring her up to London," answered the child. "Mama
would have wanted to come; and Papa would have let her, and wouldn't have
gone to see Queen Elizabeth unless she had been invited too."

Joan wished she had not mentioned Shakespeare. There had surely been
others; men who had climbed up and carried their impossible wives with
them. But she couldn't think of one, just then.

"We must help her," she answered somewhat lamely. "She's anxious to
learn, I know."

The child shook her head. "She doesn't understand," she said. "And Papa
won't tell her. He says it would only hurt her and do no good." The
small hands were clenched. "I shall hate her if she spoils his life."

The atmosphere was becoming tragic. Joan felt the need of escaping from
it. She sprang up.

"Oh, don't be nonsensical," she said. "Your father isn't the only man
married to a woman not as clever as himself. He isn't going to let that
stop him. And your mother's going to learn to be the wife of a great man
and do the best she can. And if they don't like her they've got to put
up with her. I shall talk to the both of them." A wave of motherliness
towards the entire Phillips family passed over her. It included Hilda.
She caught the child to her and gave her a hug. "You go back to school,"
she said, "and get on as fast as you can, so that you'll be able to be
useful to him."

The child flung her arms about her. "You're so beautiful and wonderful,"
she said. "You can do anything. I'm so glad you came."

Joan laughed. It was surprising how easily the problem had been solved.
She would take Mrs. Phillips in hand at once. At all events she should
be wholesome and unobtrusive. It would be a delicate mission, but Joan
felt sure of her own tact. She could see his boyish eyes turned upon her
with wonder and gratitude.

"I was so afraid you would not be back before I went," said the child. "I
ought to have gone this afternoon, but Papa let me stay till the
eveni