“Pretty good.  Joe’s working now, the little darling!”

“Joe is!  What at?”

“She’s in an architect’s office, Huxley and Huxley.  It’s a pretty good job, I guess.”

“But, Billy, doesn’t that seem terrible?  Joe’s so beautiful, and when you think how rich their grandfather was!  And who’s home?”

“Well, Anna gets home from the hospital every other week, and Phil comes home with Joe, of course.  Jim’s still in school, and Betsey helps with housework.  Betsey has a little job, too.  She teaches an infant class at that little private school over there.”

“Billy, don’t those people have a hard time!  Is Phil behaving?”

“Better than he did.  Yes, I guess he’s pretty good now.  But there are all Jim’s typhoid bills to pay.  Mrs. Carroll worries a good deal.  Anna’s an angel about everything, but of course Betts is only a kid, and she gets awfully mad.”

“And Josephine,” Susan smiled.  “How’s she?”

“Honestly, Sue,” Mr. Oliver’s face assumed the engaging expression reserved only for his love affairs, “she is the dearest little darling ever!  She followed me out to the porch on Sunday, and said ’Don’t catch cold, and die before your time,’—­the little cutie!”

“Oh, Bill, you imbecile!  There’s nothing to that,” Susan laughed out gaily.

“Aw, well,” he began affrontedly, “it was the little way she said it—­”

“Sh-sh!” said Mary Lou, white faced, heavy-eyed, at Alfred’s door.  “He’s just dropped off...  The doctor just came up the steps, Bill, will you go down and ask him to come right up?  Why don’t you go to bed, Sue?”

“How long are you going to wait?” asked Susan.

“Oh, just until after the doctor goes, I guess,” Mary Lou sighed.

“Well, then I’ll wait for you.  I’ll run up and see Mary Lord a few minutes.  You stop in for me when you’re ready.”

And Susan, blowing her cousin an airy kiss, ran noiselessly up the last flight of stairs, and rapped on the door of the big upper front bedroom.

This room had been Mary Lord’s world for ten long years.  The invalid was on a couch just opposite the door, and looked up as Susan entered.  Her dark, rather heavy face brightened instantly.

“Sue!  I was afraid it was poor Mrs. Parker ready to weep about Loretta,” she said eagerly.  “Come in, you nice child!  Tell me something cheerful!”

“Raw ginger is a drug on the market,” said Susan gaily.  “Here, I brought you some roses.”

“And I have eleven guesses who sent them,” laughed Miss Lord, drinking in the sweetness and beauty of the great pink blossoms hungrily.  “When’d they come?”

“Just before dinner!” Susan told her.  Turning to the invalid’s sister she said:  “Miss Lydia, you’re busy, and I’m disturbing you.”

“I wish you’d disturb us a little oftener, then,” said Lydia Lord, affectionately.  “I can work all the better for knowing that Mary isn’t dying to interrupt me.”