Isn't Alaska up north--to the pole, 'most? It used to be, when I went to school."

"Maybe 'tis; but that ain't sayin' why he's goin' there, instead of with you," retorted Mrs. Cobb. In spite of the bantering tone in which this was uttered, disapproval was plainly evident in Mrs. Cobb's voice.

"He's going with his father," answered Helen, with some dignity.

"His father! Humph!"

This time the disapproval was so unmistakably evident that Helen flamed into prompt defense, in righteous, wifely indignation.

"I don't know why you speak like that, Mrs. Cobb. Hasn't he got a right to go with his father, if he wants to? Besides, his father needs him.

Burke says he does."

"And _you_ don't need him, I s'pose," flamed Mrs. Cobb, in her turn, nettled that her sympathetic interest should meet with so poor a welcome. "Of course it's none of my business, Mis' Denby, but it seems a shame to me for him ter let you and the baby go off alone like this, and so I spoke right out. I always speak right out--what I think."

Helen flushed angrily. However much she might find fault with her husband herself, she suddenly discovered a strong disinclination to allowing any one else to do so. Besides, now, when he and his father had been so kind and generous--! She had not meant to tell Mrs. Cobb of the ten-thousand-dollar check, lest it lead to unpleasant questioning as to why it was sent. But now, in the face of Mrs. Cobb's unjust criticism, she flung caution aside.

"You're very kind," she began, a bit haughtily; "but, you see, this time you have made a slight mistake. I don't think it's a shame at all for him to go away with his father who needs him; and you won't, when you know what they've sent me. They sent me a check this afternoon for ten thousand dollars."

"_Ten--thousand--dollars!_"

"Yes," bowed Helen, with a triumphant "I-told-you-so" air, as Mrs.

Cobb's eyes seemed almost to pop out of her head. "They sent it this very afternoon."

"For the land's sake!" breathed Mrs. Cobb. Then, as her dazed wits began to collect themselves, a new look came to her eyes. "They _sent_ it?"

she cried.

"By special messenger--yes," bowed Helen, again importantly.

"But how funny to _send_ it, instead of bringing it himself--your husband, I mean."

Too late Helen saw her mistake. In a panic, now, lest unpleasant truths be discovered, she a.s.sumed an especially light, cheerful manner.

"Oh, no, I don't think it was funny a bit. He--he wanted it a surprise, I guess. And he wrote--a letter, you know. A lovely letter, all about what a good time Baby and I could have with the money."

The suspicion in Mrs. Cobb's eyes became swift conviction. An angry red stained her cheeks--but it was not anger at Helen. That was clearly to be seen.

"Look a-here, Mis' Denby," she began resolutely, "I'm a plain woman, and I always speak right out. And I'm your friend, too, and I ain't goin'

ter stand by and see you made a fool of, and not try ter lift a hand ter help. There's somethin' wrong here. If you don't know it, it's time you did. If you _do_ know it, and are tryin' ter keep it from me, you might just as well stop right now, and turn 'round and tell me all about it.

As I said before, I'm your friend, and--if it's what I think it is--you'll _need_ a friend, you poor little thing! Now, what is it?"

Helen shook her head feebly. Her face went from white to red, and back again to white. Still determined to keep her secret if possible, she made a brave attempt to regain her old airiness of manner.

"Why, Mrs. Cobb, it's nothing--nothing at all!"

Mrs. Cobb exploded into voluble wrath.

"Nothin', is it?--when a man goes kitin' off ter Alaska, and sendin' his wife ten thousand dollars ter go somewheres else in the opposite direction! Maybe you think I don't know what that means. But I do! And he's tryin' ter play a mean, snivelin' trick on ye, and I ain't goin'

ter stand for it. I never did like him, with all his fine, lordly airs, a-thinkin' himself better than anybody else what walked the earth. But if I can help it, I ain't goin' ter see you cheated out of your just deserts."

"_Mrs. Cobb!_" expostulated the dismayed, dumfounded wife; but Mrs. Cobb had yet more to say.

"I tell you they're rich--them Denbys be--rich as mud; and as for pokin'

you off with a measly ten thousand dollars, they shan't--and you with a baby ter try ter bring up and edyercate. The idea of your standin' for a separation with only ten thousand--"

"Separation!" interrupted Helen indignantly, as soon as she could find her voice. "It isn't a separation. Why, we never thought of such a thing;--not for--for _always_, the way you mean it."

"What is it, then?"

"Why, it's just a--a playday," stammered Helen, still trying to cling to the remnant of her secret. "He _said_ it was a playday--that I was to go off and have a good time with Baby."

"If it's just a playday, why didn't he give it to you ter take it _tergether_, then? Tell me that!"

"Why, he--he's going with his father."

"You bet he is," retorted Mrs. Cobb grimly. "And he's goin' ter keep with his father, too."

"What do you mean?" Helen's lips were very white.

Mrs. Cobb gave an impatient gesture.

"Look a-here, child, do you think I'm blind? Don't ye s'pose I know how you folks have been gettin' along tergether?--or, rather, _not_ gettin'

along tergether? Don't ye s'pose I know how he acts as if you wasn't the same breed o' cats with him?"

"Then you've seen--I mean, you think he's--ashamed of me?" faltered Helen.

"Think it! I _know_ it," snapped Mrs. Cobb, ruthlessly freeing her mind, regardless of the very evident suffering on her listener's face; "and it's just made my blood boil. Time an' again I've thought of speakin' up an' tellin' ye I jest wouldn't stand it, if I was you. But I didn't. I ain't no hand ter b.u.t.t in where it don't concern me. But ter see you so plumb fooled with that ten thousand dollars--I jest can't stand it no longer. I _had_ ter speak up. Turnin' you off with a beggarly ten thousand dollars--and them with all that money! Bah!"

"But, Mrs. Cobb, maybe he's coming back," stammered Helen faintly, with white lips.

"Pshaw! So maybe the sun'll rise in the west termorrer," scoffed Mrs.

Cobb; "but I ain't pullin' down my winder shades for it yet. No, he won't come back--ter _you_, Mis' Denby."

"But he--he don't say it's for--for all time."

"'Course he don't. But, ye see, he thinks he's lettin' ye down easy--a-sendin' ye that big check, an' tellin' ye ter take a playday. He don't want ye ter suspect, yet, an' make a fuss. He's countin' on bein'

miles away when ye _do_ wake up an' start somethin'. That's why I'm a-talkin' to ye now--ter put ye wise ter things. I ain't goin' ter stand by an' see you bamboozled. Now do you go an' put on your things an' march up there straight. I'll take care of the baby, an' be glad to, if you don't want ter leave her with Bridget."

"_I go up there?_" Helen's voice was full of dismayed protest.

"Sure! You brace right up to 'em, an' tell 'em you've caught on ter their little scheme, and you ain't goin' ter stand for no such nonsense.

If he wants ter git rid of you an' the baby, all well an' good. That is, I'm takin' it for granted that you wouldn't fight it--the divorce, I mean."

"_Divorce!_" almost shrieked Helen.

"But that he's got ter treat ye fair and square, an' give ye somewheres near what's due ye," went on Mrs. Cobb, without apparently noticing Helen's horrified exclamation. "Now don't cry; and, above all things, don't let 'em think they've scared ye. Just brace right up an' tell 'em what's what."

"Oh, but Mrs. Cobb, I--I--" With a choking sob and a hysterical shake of her head, Helen turned and fled down the hall to her own door. Once inside her apartment she stumbled over to the crib and caught the sleeping Dorothy Elizabeth into her arms.

"Oh, Baby, Baby, it's all over--all over," she moaned. "I can't ever be a daintily gowned wife welcoming him to a well-kept home now.