“Fine!  That’s a good girl.  I’ll go and tell her.”

Nora felt repaid in advance for any sacrifice to her pride as he beamed on her, all the look of worriment gone.  She was once more busy at her ironing-board, bending low over her work to hide her confusion, when he returned with Gertie.  A glance at her sister-in-law told her that there was to be no unbending in that quarter until she had made proper atonement.  There was little conciliatory about that sullen face.

However, she made an effort to speak lightly until, once Eddie had taken his departure, she could make her apology.

“I’ve been getting on famously with the ironing.”

“Have you?”

“This is one of the few things I can do all right.”

“Any child can iron.”

“Well, I’ll be going down to the shed,” said her brother uneasily.

“What for?” said Gertie quickly.

“I want to see about mending that door.  It hasn’t been closing right.”

“I thought Nora had something to say to me.”

“So she has:  that’s what I’m going to leaves you alone for.”

“I like that.  She insults me before everybody and then, when she’s going to apologize, it’s got to be private.  No, thank you.”

“What do you mean, Gertie?” asked Nora.

“You sent Ed in to tell me you was goin’ to apologize for what you’d said, didn’t you?”

“And I’m ready to:  for peace and quietness.”

“Well, what you said was before the men, and it’s before the men you must say you’re sorry.”

“How can you ask me to do such a thing!” cried Nora indignantly.

“Don’t be rough on her, Gertie,” pleaded her husband.  “No one likes apologizing.”

“People who don’t like apologizing should keep a better lookout on their tongue.”

“It can’t do you any good to make her eat humble pie before the men.”

“Perhaps it won’t do me any good, but it’ll do her good!”

“Gertie, don’t be cruel.  I’m sorry if I lost my temper just now, and said anything that hurt you.  But please don’t make me humiliate myself before the others.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” said Gertie, folding her arms across her breast, “so it’s no good talking.”

“Don’t you see that it’s bad enough to have to beg your pardon before Eddie?”

“Good Lord!” said Gertie irritably, “why can’t you call him Ed like the rest of us.  ‘Eddie’ sounds so sappy.”

“I’ve called him Eddie all my life:  it’s what our mother called him,” said Nora sadly.

“Oh, it’s all of a piece.  You do everything you can to make yourself different from all of us.”

She stalked over to the window and stood with folded arms looking out toward the wood-pile on which Reggie was seated—­it is to be presumed having a moment’s respite after his arduous labors.

“No, I don’t,” pleaded Nora.  “At least I don’t mean to.  Why won’t you give me any credit for trying to do my best to please you?”