Barlow looked troubled, as if his success in the suggestion of this
remedy were not finally a pleasure; but as Mrs. Maynard kept her eyes
persistently turned from him, and was evidently tired, he had nothing for
it but to go in-doors again. He met Grace, and made way for her on the
threshold to pass out.

As she joined Mrs. Maynard, "Well, Grace," said the latter, "I do believe
you are right. I have taken some more cold. But that shows that it does
n't get worse of itself, and I think we ought to be encouraged by that.
I'm going to be more careful of the night air after this."

"I don't think the night air was the worst thing about it, Louise," said
Grace bluntly.

"You mean the damp from the sand? I put on my rubbers."

"I don't mean the damp sand," said Grace, beginning to pull over some
sewing which she had in her lap, and looking down at it.

Mrs. Maynard watched her a while in expectation that she would say more,
but she did not speak. "Oh--well!" she was forced to continue herself,
"if you're going to go on with that!"

"The question is," said Grace, getting the thread she wanted, "whether
you are going on with it."

"Why, I can't see any possible harm in it," protested Mrs. Maynard. "I
suppose you don't exactly like my going with Mr. Libby, and I know that
under some circumstances it would n't be quite the thing. But did n't I