seemed to have been worn thin by use; yet it was plain that the
three young people in the room "got their looks" from her. Her
eyes, if tired, were tolerant and fond; and her voice held its
youth and something of the music of Cora's.

"What is he like?" She addressed the daughter by the window.

"Why don't you ask Coralie?" suggested the sprawling artist,
relaxing his hideous labour. He pronounced his sister's name with
intense bitterness. He called it "Cora-_lee_," with an implication
far from subtle that his sister had at some time thus Gallicized
herself, presumably for masculine favour; and he was pleased to
receive tribute to his satire in a flash of dislike from her
lovely eyes.

"I ask Laura because it was Laura who went to the door," Mrs.
Madison answered. "I do not ask Cora because Cora hasn't seen him.
Do I satisfy you, Hedrick?"

"`Cora hasn't seen him!'" the boy hooted mockingly. "She hasn't?
She was peeking out of the library shutters when he came up the
front walk, and she wouldn't let me go to the door; she told Laura
to go, but first she took the library waste-basket and laid one o'
them roses----"

"_Those_ roses," said Cora sharply. "He _will_ hang around the
neighbours' stables. I think you ought to do something about it,
mother."

"_Them_ roses!" repeated Hedrick fiercely. "One o' them roses Dick