"But, Ebenezer, you don't mean she's living with him, do you?" he faltered, leaning forward.
"They live there together, Young and the girl and her—" Ebenezer's anger almost made him forget the conventional respect he owed his wife and sister, "—her son," he concluded lamely. "That's all I know, and it's enough. He's had the best houses in Ithaca closed to him on her account."
Indignation at her husband's injustice burnt a red spot in Helen's cheeks and kindled a flame of unusual animation in her placid blue eyes.
"You know better, Ebenezer," she retorted. "Forrie's given her a father's care, and every one worth while honors him for it."
Frederick, kept in his attitude of tense attention by a sudden revival of his jealousy of Young, sighed audibly and settled back in his chair.
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Helen," he said earnestly.
"Oh, are you, Fred?" cried Madelene. "So your old interest in that girl isn't dead, yet? Well, all I can say is, I am sorry she didn't get you, but I'll bet she's glad, now, she didn't."
Waldstricker looked keenly from the speaker to her husband. But Frederick had again put on his mask of apathetic indifference and answered his wife's gibe only by a shrug of his shoulders. Noting her brother's scowling face, she went on maliciously.
"You'd better keep away from the lake place, my dear husband, or you'll have both Ebbie and Forrie after you."
"Will you have your tea now, Madelene?" Helen was alarmed at the threatened tempest, and hoped to change the subject.