"Your idea of a mother's help has worked wonderfully, Stephen. As you
know, I was averse to it at first but I am so glad you insisted. Dear
Avery is a greater comfort to me than I can possibly tell you."

"Avery!" repeated the Reverend Stephen, with brows elevated. "I presume
you are talking of Mrs. Denys?"

"Yes, dear. I call her Avery. I feel her to be almost one of ourselves."
There was just a hint of apology in Mrs. Lorimer's voice. "She has
been--and is--so very kind to me," she said. "I really don't know what
the children and I would do without her."

"I am glad to hear she is kind," said Mr. Lorimer, with a touch
of acidity.

"My dearest, she is quite our equal in position," murmured Mrs. Lorimer.

"That may be, my dear Adelaide." The acidity developed into a note of
displeasure. "In a sense doubtless we are all equal. But in spite of
that, extremes of intimacy are often inadvisable. I do not think you are
altogether discreet in making a bosom friend of a woman in Mrs. Denys's
position. A very good woman, I grant you. But familiarity with her is
altogether unsuitable. From my own experience of her I am convinced that
she would very soon presume upon it."

He paused. Mrs. Lorimer said nothing. She was sitting motionless with her
soft eyes on the fire.

Mr. Lorimer looked down at the brown head at his knee with growing
severity. "You will, therefore, Adelaide, in deference to my wish--if for