her to the door. And he held it open, politely, looking after her, until
she had crossed the street, calling out a cheerful "Goodnight" that had
in it something of a benediction. She avoided the dining-room and went
straight to bed, in a strange medley of feelings. The self-sacrifice had
brought a certain self-satisfaction not wholly unpleasant. She had been
equal to the situation, and a part of her being approved of this,--a part
which had been suppressed in another mood wherein she had become
convinced that self-realization lay elsewhere. Life was indeed a
bewildering thing....

The next morning, at breakfast, though her mother's complaints continued,
Janet was silent as to her purchase, and she lingered on her return home
in the evening because she now felt a reluctance to appear in the role of
protector and preserver of the family. She would have preferred, if
possible, to give the stove anonymously. Not that the expression of
Hannah's gratitude was maudlin; she glared at Janet when she entered the
dining-room and exclaimed: "You hadn't ought to have gone and done it!"

And Janet retorted, with almost equal vehemence:--"Somebody had to do
it--didn't they? Who else was there?"

"It's a shame for you to spend your money on such things. You'd ought to
save it you'll need it," Hannah continued illogically.

"It's lucky I had the money," said Janet.

Both Janet and Hannah knew that these recriminations, from the other,
were the explosive expressions of deep feeling. Janet knew that her
mother was profoundly moved by her sacrifice. She herself was moved by
Hannah's plight, but tenderness and pity were complicated by a renewed