have good health--or would have, if you treated yourself properly--and
you certainly have an abundance of time and a superabundance of money.
Surely anybody would say you ought to find SOMETHING to do this
glorious morning besides sitting moped up in this tomb-like house with
instructions to the maid that you'll see no one."

"But I don't WANT to see anybody."

"Then I'd MAKE myself want to."

Mrs. Carew sighed wearily and turned away her head.

"Oh, Della, why won't you ever understand? I'm not like you. I
can't--forget."

A swift pain crossed the younger woman's face.

"You mean--Jamie, I suppose. I don't forget--that, dear. I couldn't,
of course. But moping won't help us--find him."

"As if I hadn't TRIED to find him, for eight long years--and by
something besides moping," flashed Mrs. Carew, indignantly, with a sob
in her voice.

"Of course you have, dear," soothed the other, quickly; "and we shall
keep on hunting, both of us, till we do find him--or die. But THIS
sort of thing doesn't help."

"But I don't want to do--anything else," murmured Ruth Carew,
drearily.