"but I worry so, because, you know, nothing is impossible when people
are foolish; and of course, at their age, they are apt to be foolish."

So the seed was dropped. Certainly he did come very often. Certainly her
mother seemed very glad to see him. Certainly they had very long talks.
Mary North shivered with apprehension. But it was not until a week later
that this miserable suspicion grew strong enough to find words. It was
after tea, and the two ladies were sitting before a little fire. Mary
North had wrapped a shawl about her mother, and given her a footstool,
and pushed her chair nearer the fire, and then pulled it away, and
opened and shut the parlor door three times to regulate the draught.
Then she sat down in the corner of the sofa, exhausted but alert.

"If there's anything you want, mother, you'll be sure and tell me?"

"Yes, my dear."

"I think I'd better put another shawl over your limbs?"

"Oh no, indeed!"

"Are you _sure_ you don't feel a draught?"

"No, Mary; and it wouldn't hurt me if I did!"

"I was only trying to make you comfortable,--"

"I know that, my dear; you are a very good daughter. Mary, I think it
would be nice if I made a cake. So many people call, and--"