damnation. Siward after Siward, generation after generation you know--"
She bit her lip, thinking a moment. "His grandfather was a friend of my
grand-parents, brilliant, handsome, generous, and--doomed! His own father
was found dying in a dreadful resort in London where he had wandered
when stupefied--a Siward! Think of it! So you see what that outbreak of
Stephen's means to those whose families have been New Yorkers since New
York was. It is ominous, it is more than ominous--it means that the
master-vice has seized on one more Siward. But I shall never, never
admit it to his mother."

The younger girl sat wide-eyed, silent; the elder's gaze was upon her,
but her thoughts, remote, centred on the hapless mother of such a son.

"Such indulgence was once fashionable; moderation is the present
fashion. Perhaps he will fall into line," said Mrs. Ferrall
thoughtfully. "The main thing is to keep him among people, not to drop
him. The gregarious may be shamed, but if anything, any incident,
happens to drive him outside by himself, if he should become solitary,
there's not a chance in the world for him. . It's a pity. I know he
meant to make himself the exception to the rule--and look! Already one
carouse of his has landed him in the daily papers!"

Sylvia flushed and looked up: "Grace, may I ask you a plain question?"

"Yes, child," she answered absently.

"Has it occurred to you that what you have said about this boy touches
me very closely?"

Mrs. Ferrall's wits returned nimbly from woolgathering, and she shot a