"Yes, mother, but——"
The white-clad figure in the bay-window stirred, rose, and came forward, and Hattie ranged herself at Sue's side, the whole movement plainly one of defense.
Her bridal raiment afforded Sue an excuse for changing the subject. "Oh, mother, look! How lovely!"
"Don't evade my question," chided the elder woman.
Sue reached for her mother's hand. "Ah, poor little hungry hearts," she pleaded. "Those boys just long to call somebody mother."
Mrs. Milo drew her hand free. "Then let them call me mother," she returned.
"Hup!" laughed Hattie, hastily averting her face.
Sue turned to her, mild wonder in her eyes. "Oh, mother's the best mother in the world," she declared; "—and the sweetest.—And you love the boys, don't you, dear?"
Mrs. Milo was watching Hattie's lowered head through narrowed eyes. "I love them—naturally," she answered, with a note of injury.
"Of course, you do! You're a true mother. And a true mother loves anybody's baby. But—the trouble is"—this with a tender smile—"you—you don't always show them the love in your heart."