“Oh, but, mother—­why?” Sally exclaimed importunately.  “What’s he done—­he’s done nothing.”

“If you had a little more understanding about the laws of propriety, you wouldn’t ask a ridiculous question like that.  The boy must go at once.  I’ve often thought since you came down here that the effect of London upon you was to make you extremely lax in your judgment of other people’s morals.  I’ve noticed it once or twice in different things you’ve said.  But you’ll kindly leave this matter entirely to me.  That boy—­I feel ashamed to think he’s ever been under this roof—­is illegitimate!”

“Mother!” exclaimed the two girls.

“So I gather from this report,” she said coldly.

Sally said nothing.

“And to think that I’ve allowed the wretched little creature to live in my house and mix with my boys—­a contaminating influence.”

“It’s horrible!” said the two girls.

“Oh, how unjust you all are!” exclaimed Sally, rising from the table with burning cheeks.  “How can a boy of that age be a contaminating influence?  How can he affect the innocence of all those other little wretches whom you simper over just because their mothers have it in their power to lift you in the society of this wretched little place?”

Mrs. Bishop had risen from her chair with white lips and distended nostrils.  The two girls were staring at Sally with wide eyes and open mouths.  For a moment there was a silence that thundered in all their ears.

“Sally,” said her mother, biting her words before she foamed them from her, “if you weren’t a daughter of mine, I’d—­I’d say you were a wanton woman.  You know in your heart, as your father always taught you—­as you could read in the Bible now—­if you ever do read your Bible—­that the sins of the fathers, yes, and the mothers too, will fall on the children until the third and fourth generation; and do you think that child of sin isn’t contaminated by the vice of his mother’s wickedness?”

Elsie came to her mother’s side with the proper affection of a daughter and laid her hand gently on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself, mother,” she said.  “He can’t stay, of course he can’t stay.  Sally doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Certainly, he can’t stay,” reiterated Mrs. Bishop.  “If I have to put him in the train myself to-day, and pack him off to London.”

“But who’ll meet him?” asked Dora.

“Oh, of course, I suppose I shall telegraph to her.  I’ve got her address.”

“But that’s a terrible waste of money,” Elsie objected.  “If you wrote now and sent him by a later train, wouldn’t she get it in time?”

“It can be charged to her bill,” said Mrs. Bishop.

“And are you going to send Maurie alone, all the way up to London?” Sally exclaimed, forced at last to break her silence.

“Of course,” said Mrs. Bishop, with surprise.  “You don’t think I’m going to afford him the luxury of a travelling companion, do you?”