“Well, perhaps if we sit down, we will be less readily recognized at a distance.”  Nan replied smilingly, and was instantly convinced that she had read her visitor’s mind aright, for Mrs. Daney flushed slightly.  “Suppose,” the girl suggested gently, “that you preface what you have to say by calling me ‘Nan.’  You knew me well enough to call me that in an earlier and happier day, Mrs. Daney.”

“Thank you, Nan.  I shall accept your invitation and dispense with formality.”  She hesitated for a beginning, and Nan, observing her slight embarrassment, was gracious enough to aid her by saying: 

“I dare say your visit has something to do with the unenviable social position in which I find myself in Port Agnew, Mrs. Daney, for I cannot imagine any other possible interest in me to account for it.  So you may be quite frank.  I’m sure nothing save a profound sense of duty brought you here, and I am prepared to listen.”  This was a degree of graciousness the lady had not anticipated, and it put her at her ease immediately.

“I’ve called to talk to you about Donald McKaye,” she began abruptly.

“At the solicitation of whom?”

“Nobody.”  Mrs. Daney sighed.  “It was just an idea of mine.”

“Ah—­I think I prefer it that way.  Proceed, Mrs. Daney.”

“Young Mr. McKaye is unduly interested in you, Nan—­at least, that is the impression of a number of people in Port Agnew.”

“I object to the use of the adverb ‘unduly’ in connection with Mr. Donald’s interest in my father and me.  But no matter.  Since Port Agnew has no interest in me, pray why, Mrs. Daney, should I have the slightest interest in the impressions of these people you refer to and whose volunteer representative you appear to be?”

“There!  I knew you would be offended!” Mrs. Daney cried, with a deprecatory shrug.  “I’m sure I find this a most difficult matter to discuss, and I assure you, I do not desire to appear offensive.”

“Well, you are; but I can stand it, and whether I resent it or not cannot be a matter of much import to you or the others.  And I’ll try not to be disagreeable.  Just why did you come to see me, Mrs. Daney?”

“I might as well speak plainly, Miss Brent.  Donald McKaye’s action in ridding the Sawdust Pile of your neighbors has occasioned comment.  It appears that this was his first official act after assuming his father’s place in the business.  Then he visited you and your father for an hour, and your child, whom it appears you have named Donald, called him ‘daddy.’  Then, last Saturday night, Mr. McKaye sent over some clothing for the boy—­”

“Whereupon the amateur detectives took up the trail,” Nan interrupted bitterly.  “And you heard of it immediately.”

“His father heard of it also,” Mrs. Daney continued.  “It worries him.”

“It should not.  He should have more faith in his son, Mrs. Daney.”

“He is a father, my dear, very proud of his son, very devoted to him, and fearfully ambitious for Donald’s future.”