to treat her transgression lightly. That he was a boy and she--
not a girl--seemed to charge her with his as well as her own
sins, and, besides this moral aggravation, entailed a lower
anxiety as to his discretion and secrecy that drove her half mad
with worry. Suppose he should boast of it! Or, if he were not
bad enough for that, only suppose he should be carried away into
carelessness about it! He had nothing to fear worse than
what he would call "a wigging" and perhaps summary dismissal to a
tutor's: she had more at risk than she could bear to think of.
Probably, by now, he recognized his foolishness, and laughed at
himself and her. This thought made her no happier, for men may
do all that--and yet, very often, they do not stop.

She had to go to a party at the Vicarage in the afternoon. Harry
would be sure to be there, and, with a conflict of feeling
finding expression in her acts, she protected herself by taking
all the children, while she inconsistently dressed herself in her
most youthful and coquettish costume. She found herself almost
grudging Johnnie his rapidly increasing inches, even while she
relied on him for an assertion of her position as a matron. For
the folly of last night was to be over and done with, and her
acquaintance with Harry Sterling to return to its only possible
sane basis; that she was resolved on, but she wanted Harry
honestly--even keenly--to regret her determination.

He was talking to Maudie Sinclair when she arrived; he took off
his hat, but did not allow his eyes to meet hers. She gathered
her children round her, and sat down among the chaperons. Mrs.
Sterling came and talked to her; divining a sympathy, the good
mother had much to say of her son, of her hopes and her fears for