“That’s it!” said Martha confidently.  “It’s your conscience.  Believe me, consciences is the dickens an’ all for makin’ a mess o’ things, when they get right down to business.  Now, if I was you, I wouldn’t bother Mr. Ronald with my squalms o’ conscience.  Very prob’ly when it comes to consciences he has troubles of his own—­at least, if he ain’t, he’s an exception an’ a rare curiosity, an’ Mr. Pierpont Morgan oughter buy him for the Museum.  When your conscience tells you you’d oughter tell, ten to one you’d oughtn’t.  Give other folks a chance.  What they don’t know can’t worry ’em.  Besides, your just tellin’ a thing don’t let you out.  You can’t get clear so easy as that.  It’s up to you to work it out, so what’s wrong is made right, an’ do it yourself—­not trust to nobody else.  You can’t square up by heavin’ your load offn your own shoulders onto another fella’s.  You think you feel light coz you done your dooty, when ten to one you done your friend.  No!  I wouldn’t advise turnin’ state’s everdence on yourself unless it was to save another from the gallus.  As it is, you can take it from me, the best thing you can do for that—­conscience o’ yours, is get busy in another direction.  Dress yourself up as fetchin’ as you can, go out motorin’ with your gen’l’man friend like he ast you to, let him get his perposal offn his chest, an’ then tell’m—­you’ll be a sister to’m.”

CHAPTER XV

Sam Slawson had gone to the Adirondacks in January, personally conducted by Mr. Blennerhasset, Mr. Ronald’s secretary, Mr. Ronald, in the most unemotional and business-like manner, having assumed all the responsibilities connected with the trip and Sam’s stay at the Sanatorium.

It was Claire who told Mr. Ronald of the Slawsons’ difficulty.  How Martha saw no way out, and still was struggling gallantly on, trying single-handed to meet all obligations at home and, in addition, send her husband away.

“That’s too much—­even for Martha,” he observed.

“If I only knew how to get Sam to the mountains,” Claire said in a sort of desperation.

“You have just paved the way.”

“How?”

“You have told me.”

“You are going to help?”

“Yes.”

“O, how beautiful!”

“I am glad that, for once, I have the good fortune to please you.”

Claire’s happy smile faded.  She turned her face away, pretending to busy herself with Radcliffe’s books.

“I see I have offended once more.”

She hesitated a moment, then faced him squarely.

“There can be no question of your either pleasing or offending me, Mr. Ronald.  What you are doing for Martha makes me glad, of course, but that is only because I rejoice in any good that may come to her.  I would not take it upon myself to praise you for doing a generous act, or to blame you if you didn’t do it.”