Kathryn got up and walked about the room. She was staging another drama. Brace was now playing in puddles––not such simple ones as those of his childhood. He was having his little fight, too, possibly; with whom?
Well, how perfectly thrilling to save him!
Such a girl as Kathryn has as cheap an imagination as any lurid factory girl, but it is kept as safely from sight as the contents of her vanity bag.
“Kathryn, have you heard from Brace?”
The girl started almost guiltily. Helen hated to ask this, she feared Kathryn might think her envious; but Kathryn rose and drew a chair to the couch.
“No, dearie-dear,” she said sweetly.
“So you don’t know just where he is?”
“How could I know, dearie thing?”
So they were not keeping things from her; shutting her out! Helen Northrup raised her head from the pillow.
“We’re in the same boat, darling,” she said, so glad to be in the same boat. “Lately I’ve had a few whim-whams.” Helen felt she could be confidential. “I suppose I am touching the outer circle of old age, and before it blinds me, I’m going to have my say. It would be just like you and Brace to forget yourselves and think of me. And if I do not look out, 132 I’ll be taking your sacrifice and calling it by its wrong name. You and Brace must marry. I half believe you’ve been waiting for me to push you out of the nest. Well, here you go! Your own nest will be sacred to me, another place for me to go to, another interest. I’ll be having you both closer. Now, don’t cry, little girl. I’ve found you out and found myself, too!”