"How d'ye do, Cal?" she said, looking up for an instant to give him a nod.
He returned the greeting, and taking a chair by Mrs. Conly's side, "All well, mother?" he asked.
"Quite. You're just in time to tell me whether these are going to look right. You know we've never seen any, and have only your description to go by."
She held up a completed roll. It looked like a horn, tapering nearly to a point.
"I think so," he said; "but, mother, you needn't finish mine: I shall never use it."
"Calhoun Conly, what do you mean?" she cried, dropping the roll into her lap, and gazing at him with kindling eyes.
"You're not going to back out of it now?" exclaimed Enna, leaving her machine, and approaching him in sudden and violent anger. "You'd better take care, coward, they'll kill you if you turn traitor; and right they should too."
"I shall not turn traitor," he said quietly, "but neither shall I go any farther than I have gone. I should never have joined, if Boyd and Foster hadn't deceived me as to the objects of the organization."
"But you have joined, Cal, and I'll not consent to your giving it up," said his mother.
"I don't like to vex you, mother," he answered, reddening, "but—"