e defensive.

"And does Mr. Falconer visit her?"

"Perhaps so: I have no spies out."

"Why, Susie! how strange! You never told me a word about it. I never
dreamed that Mr. Falconer was the man who had rented your house, and
who has been running here so much," Gertrude said.

"Well, I'd get that woman out of my house as quick as ever I could if
I was you, Susan," said Mrs. Summerhaze. "Like as not the house will
get a bad name, so you'll have trouble renting it."

"I'm more concerned about Gertrude's name," Tom said.

Gertrude's eyes flashed daggers at Tom.

"Of course Gertrude mustn't keep company with Mr. Falconer," said the
mother. "Young girls can't be too particular who they 'sociate with."

Susan said nothing on the subject, though by far the most concerned
of the party on her sister's account. It was significant and alarming,
the warmth and persistence with which Gertrude defended Mr. Falconer.
It was evident that her interest was in some way enlisted. Was it
sympathy she felt, or was hers a generous stand against a possible
injustice? Whatever the feeling, there was danger in this young and
ardent girl becoming the partisan of an interesting man. Yet how could
she, the involved, bewildered Susan, dare warn Gertrude? How could
she ever do it? Would it not seem even to her own heart that she was
acting selfishly? How could she satisfy her own conscience that she
was not moved by jealousy? Besides, what could she say? Gertrude knew
all that she could tell her of Mr. Falconer and his relations--knew
everything except that she, Susan, had loved--and, alas! did yet love
unasked--this unworthy man.

Ought she, as her mother had advised, demand possession of her house?
She shrunk from striking at a man--above all, this man--whom so many
were assaulting. No. She would leave God to deal with him. Besides,
there might be nothing wrong. All might yet be explained, all might
yet be set to rights, all--unless, unless Gertrude--Oh, why should
there arise this new and terrible complication? Gertrude with her
youth and beauty and enthusiasm--why must she be drawn into the
wretchedness?

For days, feverish, haunted days, Susan went over and over these
questions and speculations. In the mean time, Tom entered another
complaint against Gertrude. "She gave the greater part of last evening
to the fellow," he said.

"The party was stiff and stupid: Margaret Pillsbury's parties always
are--no dancing, no cards. Mr. Falcone