"Did Dick tell you that?" asked Sally, startled.
Henrietta shook her head. "I heard it talked about."
"I have no reason to think so. She gets queerer and more cranky every year. She has changed a good deal since Uncle John died. Poor Patty! She has very little comfort in life—except Charlie." Sally laughed shortly. "I hope she finds him a comfort."
Henrietta did not know what to say. Consequently she said nothing, which was, no doubt, just the right thing.
"Charlie will be home to-morrow," Sally added; then she corrected herself. "I should have said that Charlie is due to-morrow. He may not come."
"Oh, Sally!" Henrietta cried. "What makes you speak so? It—it sounds horrible."
"It's the simple fact, Henrietta."
"Why don't you do something about it? I would."
Sally gave a little shrug. "What would you do? There is nothing to be done. Charlie's a headstrong boy and he seems to have slipped away altogether from mother's control. Patty indulges him and I don't see how I can do anything. If he had really done anything wrong and I knew it, it would be a different matter. I don't know that he has—but," she added in a low voice, "I don't know that he hasn't."
Henrietta chanced to glance at the watch upon her wrist. "Oh, mercy me!" she cried, springing to her feet. "I didn't know it was so late. I've got to meet Dick in five minutes. Good bye, Sally."