on--maybe enough to keep our home. But you'll have to lend a
hand."

She looked up from her packing. "What do you say?" she demanded,
with a rekindled interest, and at the sight of it his eyes
lightened.

"Why, if you're willing to go slowly, and put up with a few
things, we might be able to do it."

"Humh!" Mrs. Willoughby bent over her trunk again. "I suppose
that means you'd make me a kind of drudge. Thank you; I prefer
the other way."

"The other way?" he inquired, looking at her closely. "What do
you mean by that?"

She affected to show her carelessness by smoothing the clothes in
the trunk tray. "Oh, I'm going to take the boy and go away
somewhere for a while."

It was not unexpected. Willoughby came a step nearer, his brow
wrinkled ominously. "You shall not!" he said, with a slow
distinctness, every syllable rapped out decisively. Then his
anger, righteous enough in its way, got the better of him.
"Listen to me, Stella!' he gritted, clenching his hands beside
him. "I can see clear through you. You haven't the nerve to face
this down, so you're going to sling me overboard. That's it,
isn't it? Well, you sha'n't. I've handled you like a fool, these
years, and now I'm going to take charge. You'll stay here--not