Sylvia, who had been sewing peacefully beside the sunny kitchen window
filled with geraniums, rose hastily, and left Mrs. Gray alone with her
friend. Having gained the hall in safety, she sank down on the stairs,
and laughed until the tears rolled down her cheeks. And here Austin,
coming in a moment later, found her.

"What on earth--?" he began, and then, without even pursuing his
question, sat down beside her and joined in her laugh. "What would you
do?" he said at last, when some semblance of order had been restored,
"without Mrs. Elliott? Considering the quiet life you lead, you must be
simply pining for amusement."

"I am," said Sylvia. "Austin--let's go to the movies in Wallacetown
to-morrow night."

Austin, suddenly grave, shook his head. "Shows" in Wallacetown were
associated in his mind with a period in his life when he had very nearly
broken his mother's heart, and which he had now put definitely behind
him. The idea of connecting Sylvia, even in the most remote way, with
that period, was abhorrent to him.

"Why not?" she asked defiantly.

"Well, for one thing, the roads are awful. This combination in March of
melting snow and mud is worse than anything I know of--ruts and holes and
slush. It would take us over an hour to get there."

"And three to get back, I suppose," said Sylvia pertly; "we could go in
my motor."