"This is terrible, Eleanor! To think that after all these years
Herbert's thoughts should still be turning toward that woman. But it
is only what might be expected. The ingratitude of men is terrible.
Here we have for the last twenty years been devoting our lives to
him--not only keeping his house for him, but seeing that he did not
fall a victim to any of the designing women who would have insinuated
themselves into his good graces, and preventing him from indulging in
all sorts of foolish tastes and bringing himself to ruin; and now you
see he turns again to that artful woman, and, without saying a word to
us, invites her son to come here. It is monstrous, sister!"

"It is monstrous," Miss Eleanor Penfold repeated, with tears in her
eyes. "It is like flying in the face of Providence, sister."

"It is flying in our faces," Miss Penfold replied sharply; "and just
at the present moment that is of more importance. To think that that
man must have been brooding over this, and making up his mind to act
in this way for weeks perhaps, and never to say a word to us upon the
subject. I wonder he didn't ask the woman herself down!"

"He never could have done such a shameless thing, Charlotte," her
sister said much shocked. "Of course, we must have left the house
instantly."

"I should not have left the house," Miss Penfold said firmly. "If the
woman comes--and now he has asked the boy it is quite possible that he
may ask the mother--our duty will be to remain here. You know we have
been uneasy ever since her husband died. Herbert's infatuation
concerning her has been pitiable, and we have always believed it has