is Mrs. Karlgren, and I am simply going to tell her to keep away
hereafter. The idea of her coming here practically begging, and then
doing such a thing, after all I have done for her!"

"But you are not sure," the father objected earnestly, and Keith paid
special notice to his objection because he had already learned, or
divined, that his father could not bear the sight of the poor woman
in question.

"No, it is impossible to be sure," the mother admitted. Then she added
after a pause: "What puzzles me more than anything else is where she
gets the money."

Though no name was mentioned, Keith knew perfectly well that they were
speaking of Granny. And he recalled having laughed at her in the kitchen
earlier in the evening before the father came home. Her eyes had a funny
look and seemed a little inflamed. Her still thick braids were loosened
and about to come entirely undone. She was talking more than usual and
in a tone that suggested defiance.

As he recalled all this, Keith forgot to listen to his parents, who went
on discussing so intently that he was able to leave his corner and reach
the door to the kitchen unnoticed. An irresistible desire to see Granny
at once had seized him. Back of it lay a vaguely sensed mixture of
curiosity and sympathy.

Granny was in her favourite place beside the kitchen sofa, seated on a
footstool almost as large as an ordinary chair, but somewhat lower. That
stool was the one bone of contention between her and Keith, because he
was carrying it off as often as he could get at it. Turned upside down,