Wint said: “I don’t want to talk to you about Mrs. Hullis, mother. I want to talk to you about Hetty.”
Mrs. Chase did drop her work in her lap at that. “About Hetty?” she echoed. “Why should you want to talk about Hetty? Wint! You’re never going to marry her, are you? I—”
Wint laughed. “No, no. Not that Hetty isn’t a nice girl; and she’ll make some fellow a mighty fine wife. But I want to—”
“There,” said Mrs. Chase, immensely reassured. “I knew it couldn’t be that. I always knew you and Joan.... I said to Mrs. Hullis to-night that you and Joan were friendly as ever. She’s a nice girl, Wint. I don’t see why you don’t get married right away. Your father and I were married before—”
Wint said, persistently bringing her back to the point: “I don’t want to talk about Joan, either, mother. It’s Hetty.”
“Well, I should think you would want to talk about Joan,” Mrs. Chase declared. “She’s worth talking about. I’m sure she wouldn’t like it very much to know you didn’t want to talk about her, Wint. She—”
“Mother,” Wint insisted. “Hetty needs our help. I want you to—”
Mrs. Chase looked at him with a face that had suddenly turned white and cold. She put one trembling hand to her throat. “Wint?” she asked, in a husky whisper. “What’s the matter with Hetty? What are you talking about? What is the—”
“Hetty’s going to have a little baby,” said Wint gently.
Mrs. Chase exclaimed: “Wint! You’re not.... You haven’t.... It isn’t you?”