"Well," retorted her mother, "I shan't let them make you ridiculous.—Momsey!"
From the Church came the sound of boyish laughter, mingled with snatches of a hymn. The hymn was Ikey's favorite, and above all the other voices sounded his—
"O Mutter Dear, Jaru-u-u-usalem——"
Sue turned her head to listen. "They know they've got a right to at least one parent," she said, almost as if to herself. "Preferably a mother."
"But you're an unmarried woman!"
"Still what difference does that make in——"
"Please don't argue."
"No, mother,"—dutifully.
"To refer to yourself in such a way is most indelicate. Especially before Hattie."
There was no dissembling in the look Hattie Balcome gave the older woman. The young eyes were full of comprehension, and mockery; they said as plainly as words, "Here is one who knows you for what you are—in spite of your dainty manners, your gentle voice, your sweet words." Nor could the girl keep out of her tone something of the dislike and distrust she felt. "Well, Mrs. Milo!" she exclaimed. "I think it's a terrible pity that Sue's not a mother."