standing on the other side of the porch, saw that look, as he
hurried past her, unseeing. A moment before her dark eyes had
been flashing with anger at Aunt Isabel's words; now the anger
was drowned in a sudden rush of tears.

She took a quick step after Robert, but checked the impulse. Not
then--and not by her alone--could that deadly hurt be healed.
Nay, more, Robert must never suspect that she knew of any hurt.
She stood and watched him through her tears as he went away
across the low-lying shore fields to hide his broken heart under
his own humble roof. She yearned to hurry after him and comfort
him, but she knew that comfort was not what Robert needed now.
Justice, and justice only, could pluck out the sting, which
otherwise must rankle to the death.

Ralph and Malcolm were driving into the yard. Edith went over to
them.

"Boys," she said resolutely, "I want to have a talk with you."


The Christmas dinner at the old homestead was a merry one. Mrs.
James spread a feast that was fit for the halls of Lucullus.
Laughter, jest, and repartee flew from lip to lip. Nobody
appeared to notice that Robert ate little, said nothing, and sat
with his form shrinking in his shabby "best" suit, his gray head
bent even lower than usual, as if desirous of avoiding all
observation. When the others spoke to him he answered
deprecatingly, and shrank still further into himself.