"Go!" added Clare. She threw herself into the chair at the table, put her arms on the cloth, and her face in her arms.

Sue ran to Wallace, took his arm and tugged at it, lifting him. He stumbled up, still weeping a little, but weakly. As she turned him toward the hall, he put an arm across her shoulders for support.

Mrs. Milo followed them. She was not in the dark as to the nature of her son's tearful admission. But she had no mind to blame him.

Resorting to her accustomed tactics, she put Farvel in the wrong. "I never should have trusted my dear boy to you," she cried. "I thought he would be under good influences in a clergyman's house. Only eighteen, and you make him responsible!"

The door opened, and Balcome was there. He looked at Wallace not unkindly. "Pretty tough luck, young man," he observed.

At sight of Balcome, Mrs. Milo remembered the wedding. "Oh!" she gasped. And turning about to Farvel in a wild appeal, "Oh, Hattie!

Think of poor Hattie! Won't you forget yourself in this? Won't you help us to keep it all quiet? Oh, we mustn't ruin her life!" She returned to the rocker, her fingers to her eyes, as if she were pressing back the tears.

Balcome had come in, closing the door. He crossed to Farvel, his big, blowzy face comical in its gravity. "Mr. Farvel," he said, "whatever concerns that young man concerns my--little girl." He blinked with emotion. "So--so that's why I ask, who is this young woman?"

Before Farvel could reply, Clare lifted her head, stood suddenly, and stared Balcome from his disheveled hair to his wide, soft, well-worn shoes. "Oh, allow me, Alan!" she cried. "You know, they're just about to burst, both of 'em!"--for Mrs. Milo was peering at her over a handkerchief, the blue eyes bright with expectancy. "If they don't know the worst in five seconds, there'll be an explosion sure!" She laughed harshly. Then with mock ceremony, and impudently, "Mr.

Balcome,--and _dear_ Mrs. Milo, permit me to introduce myself. I am your charming clergyman's beloved bride." She curtsied.

No explosion could have brought Mrs. Milo to her feet with more celerity. While Balcome stumbled backward, the red of his countenance taking on an apoplectic greenish tinge.

"_Bride?_" he cried.

"_Wife?_" gasped Mrs. Milo, hollowly.

But almost instantly the blue eyes lighted with a smile. She put back her bonneted head to regard Clare from under lowered lashes. "Ah!" she sighed in relief. No longer was there need to fear publicity for her son; here was a situation that insured against it.

"Yes, you feel better, don't you?" commiserated Clare, sarcastically.

"--Tuh!"

Balcome was blinking harder than ever. "Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned!" he vowed under his breath.

By now Mrs. Milo's smile had grown into a clear, joyous, well-modulated laugh. "Oh, ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!--Wife!" she exulted. "That is most interesting! Hm!--And it changes everything, doesn't it?"--this to no one in particular. She reseated herself, studying the floor thoughtfully, finding her gla.s.ses meanwhile, and tapping a finger with them gently. "Hm!--Ah!--Yes."

Balcome replied to her, and with no idea of sparing her feelings.

"Yes, that puts quite a different face on things," he agreed; "--on what Wallace has done. The home of his best friend!"

"Let's not talk about it!" begged Farvel.

"All right, Mr. Farvel," answered Balcome, soothingly. "But my Hattie's happiness--that's what I'm thinking of." He came nearer to Clare now. "And before I go," he said to her, "I'd like to ask you one more question."

"Oh, you would!" she retorted ironically. "Well, I'm not going to answer any more questions. I've got a lot to do. And I want to be let alone." She made as if to go.

"Wait!" commanded Farvel.

She flushed angrily. "Well? Well? Well?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"We shan't trouble you again," a.s.sured the clergyman, more kindly.

"Then spit it out!" she cried to Balcome. "I want to know," began Balcome, eyeing her keenly, "just whose child that is?"

It was Farvel's turn to gasp. "Child?" he echoed.

Mrs. Milo straightened against the green velours. "A child?" she said in turn.

"You know who I mean," declared Balcome, not taking his look from Clare. "That little girl who called you Auntie."

She tried to speak naturally. "That--that--she's a friend's child--a friend's child from up-State."

"You told us she was your sister's child," persisted Balcome.

She took refuge in a burst of temper. "Well, what if I did? I'm liable to say anything--to you!"

There was a pause. Farvel watched Clare, but she looked down, not trusting herself to meet his eyes. As for Balcome, he had reached a conclusion that did not augur well for the happiness of his daughter.

And his gaze wandered miserably.

Curiously enough, not a hint occurred to Mrs. Milo that this new turn of affairs might have some bearing on her son. She found her voice first. "Ah, Mr. Balcome," she said sadly, nodding as she put away her gla.s.ses, "it's just as I told Sue: it's always the same story when a girl drops out of sight!"

"Oh, is that so!" returned the younger woman, wrathfully. "Well, it just happens, madam, that I was married."

"Laura!" entreated Farvel. "You mean--you mean the child is--ours?"

She tossed her head. "Is it bad news?" she asked.

Farvel's shoulders were shaking. "A-a-a-ah!" he murmured. He fumbled for a handkerchief, crumbled it, and held it against his face.

"My dear Mrs. Farvel," began Mrs. Milo, in her best manner, "believe me when I say that I'm very glad to hear all this. I know what the temptations of this great city are, and naturally----" She got up. "A reunited family, Mr. Farvel," she said, smiling graciously. "Oh, Susan will be so pleased!" She fluttered toward the door, "So pleased!"

Clare gave a hissing laugh. "Oh, how that news will scatter!" she exclaimed. And flounced into her chair.

Mrs. Milo was calling into the hall. "Susan! Susan dear!"

"On guard!" Sue was part way up the stairs, seated.

"Just a moment, my daughter." Leaving the door wide, Mrs. Milo came fluttering back. "It really didn't surprise me," she declared, with a wise nod at Balcome. "I half guessed a marriage."

"Hope for the worst!" mocked Clare.

Sue came in, with a quick look around. "Are you ready to go, mother?"

"You bet, mother is _not_ ready to go,"--this Clare, under her breath.

"My dear," said her mother, sweetly, "we have called you in to tell you some good news."

Sue smiled. "I could manage to bear up under quite a supply of good news." Farvel was brushing at his eyes. His face was averted, but she guessed that he had been crying.

"First of all, Susan, Miss Crosby is----"

"Now, mother, does Miss Crosby want----"

"Wa-a-ait! Please! It is something she wishes you to know.--Am I right?" This with that characteristic smile so wholly muscular.