“Why, Harry, my dear, that is the very least of their vices.”

“What else?”

“Why, you know that they are notoriously light-fingered.”

“My dear Ida, you don’t mean to say that you think Maria—­”

“Why, of course not, Harry, but aside from that, their morals.”

Harry rose from his chair and walked across the room nervously.

“My dear Ida,” he said, “you are exaggerating now.  Maria is simply not that kind of a girl; and, besides, I don’t know that she does see so much of those people, anyway.”

“Gladys Mann—­”

“Well, I never heard any harm of that poor little runt.  On the other side, Ida, I should think Maria’s influence over her for good was to be taken into consideration.”

“I hope you don’t mean Maria to be a home missionary?” said Ida.

“She might go to school for a worse purpose,” replied Harry, simply.  “Maria has a very strong character from her mother, if not from her father.  I actually think the chances are that the Mann girl will have a better chance of getting good from Maria than Maria evil from her.”

“Well, dear, suppose we leave it to Maria herself,” said Ida.  “Nobody is going to force the dear child away against her will, of course.”

“Very well,” said Harry.  His face still retained a slightly sulky, disturbed expression.

Ida, after a furtive glance at him, took up a sheet of the Sunday paper, and began swaying back and forth gracefully in her rocking-chair, as she read it.

“How foolish all this sentiment about that murderer in the Tombs is,” said she presently.  “They are actually going to give him a Christmas-tree.”

“He is only a boy,” said Harry absently.

“I know that—­but the idea!”

Just then Maria passed the window, dragging little Evelyn in her white sledge.  Ida rose with a motion of unusual quickness for her, but Harry stopped her as she was about to leave the room.

“Don’t go out, Ida,” he said, with a peremptoriness which sat strangely upon him.

Ida stared at him.  “Why, why not?” she asked.  “I wanted to take Evelyn out.  You know Josephine is not here.”

“She is getting out all right with Maria’s help; sit down, Ida,” said Harry, still with that tone of command which was so foreign to him.

Ida hesitated a second, then she sat down.  She realized the grace and policy of yielding in a minor point, when she had a large one in view.  Then, too, she was in reality rather vulnerable to a sudden attack, for a moment, although she was always as a rule sure of ultimate victory.  She was at a loss, moreover, to comprehend Harry’s manner, which was easily enough understood.  He wished to be the first to ascertain Maria’s sentiments with regard to going away to school.  Without admitting it even to himself, he distrusted his wife’s methods and entire frankness.

Presently Maria entered, leading little Evelyn, who was unusually sturdy on her legs for her age.  She walked quite steadily, with an occasional little hop and skip of exuberant childhood.