“Wint, I don’t see why you stand up for her if you aren’t—”
“You know I’m not. Don’t be ridiculous, mother. But I’ve known her all our lives. Grew up with her. And I’m going to—”
His mother shook her head positively: “I’m not going to have her in the house, Wint. You don’t need to talk any more. That’s all there is to it. I won’t!”
“I counted on you.”
“Well, you needn’t to count on me any more. I know what’s best; and I’m not going to have that shameless—”
She was interrupted, this time, by the arrival of Wint’s father. They heard the front door open, and heard him come in. Wint got up and went to the door that led into the hall. The elder Chase was hanging up his hat. Mrs. Chase, behind Wint, was talking steadily. Wint said to his father:
“Come in, will you? Mother and I are talking something over.”
Chase nodded; but he had news of his own. “Heard uptown to-night that Routt’s going to run against you in the fall,” he said. “Did you know that, Wint?”
Wint nodded. “I’d heard so.”
“I thought you and he were good friends.”