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You must clear off that tray the first thing. We'll have our talk to-morrow, maybe. We'll we'll see the course plainer then, perhaps. Now be a good boy and mind me. You ARE my boy, you know, and always will be, no matter how old and famous you get." Herbert Bayliss called again that afternoon. I did not see him, but Hephzy did.

But I made her let me in and then she and I had it out." "Hephzy!" "Don't say it that way, Hosy. The good Lord knows I hate myself for doin' it, hated myself while I was doin' it, but it had to be done. Every word I spoke cut me as bad as it must have cut her. I kept thinkin', 'This is Little Frank I'm talkin' to.

Miss Morley herself was impartially gracious and affable to both the clerical gentlemen; she was looking forward to the golf, she said, and the songs she was certain would be jolly. Hephzy and I had very little to say, and no one seemed particularly anxious to hear that little. The curates had scarcely disappeared down the driveway when Doctor Bayliss and his son strolled in from next door.

She now, especially when we three were alone, occasionally addressed her as "Auntie." And she would not permit "Auntie" to be made fun of. At the least hint of such a thing she snubbed the would-be humorist thoroughly. She and Hephzy were becoming really friendly. I felt certain she was beginning to like her to discern the real woman beneath the odd exterior.

I would end a disagreeable business as quickly as I could. Mrs. Briggs' lodging-house, viewed from the outside, was no more inviting at ten in the morning than it had been at four in the afternoon. I expected Hephzy to make some comment upon the dirty steps and the still dirtier front door. She did neither. We stood together upon the steps and I rang the bell. Mrs. Briggs herself opened the door.

My mother's fortune " "But your mother had no fortune." The anticipated scene was imminent. She sprang to her feet, but being too weak to stand, sank back again. Hephzy looked appealingly at me. "Hosy," she cautioned; "Oh, Hosy, be careful! Think how sick she has been." "I am thinking, Hephzy. I mean to be careful. But what I said is the truth, and you know it."

We took the train for Calais and crossed the Channel to Dover. This time the eccentric strip of water was as calm as a pond at sunset. No jumpy, white-capped billows, no flying spray, no seasick passengers. Tarpaulins were a drag on the market. "I wouldn't believe," declared Hephzy, "that this lookin'-glass was the same as that churned-up tub of suds we slopped through before.

And to make it worse, Hephzy, the usually prompt, reliable Hephzy, was of no use at all. "Do say something," I snapped. "What shall we do?" "I don't know, Hosy, dear. Why!... Where are you going?" "I'm going to the drug-store to get this prescription filled. I'll be back soon." The drug-store it was a "chemist's shop" of course was at the corner.

In our rooms I would have cross-questioned Hephzy, but she would not be questioned, declaring that she was tired and sleepy. I was tired, also, but not sleepy. I was almost as excited as she seemed to be by this time. I was sure she had learned something that morning in Paris, something which pleased her greatly.

She, too, might have gone to Philadelphia, doubtless, if she had asked, but she did not ask. Her father did not think of inviting her. He loved his oldest daughter, although he did not worship her as he did Ardelia, but it never occurred to him that she, too, might enjoy the trip. Hephzy was always at home, she WAS home; so at home she remained. In Philadelphia Ardelia met Strickland Morley.