Roger was much struck by the peculiar smile with which Mr. Jocelyn regarded his wife as she uttered these words.

“Lemme show you what Aunty Wheaton gave me dis mornin’,” lisped Fred, pulling Roger up.

As he rose he caught a glimpse of Mildred’s face, and saw that she was regarding her mother and father in undisguised horror.  Something was evidently wrong—­fearfully wrong.  There was a skeleton in that cheerful lighted room, and the girl saw it plainly.  Never would he forget her terrible expression.  He trembled with apprehension as he stood over the child’s toy and tried to imagine what it was that had suddenly filled the place with a nameless dread and foreboding.  So quick and strong was his sympathy for Mildred, so unmistakable had been the expression of the girl’s face, that he was sure something must soon occur which would explain her fears.

He was right, for at this moment Dr. Benton knocked, entered, and took the chair he had vacated.  The physician looked with some surprise at his patient and Mrs. Jocelyn’s flushed, smiling face.  As he felt her pulse her sleeve fell back, and he saw the ominous little red scar, and then he understood it all, and fixed a penetrating glance on the face of her husband, who would not meet his eye.

“I have done you wrong, Dr. Benton,” Mrs. Jocelyn began volubly, “for we all are indebted to your skill that my husband is so much better.  This day, which promised to pass so sadly, has a bright ending, thanks to your timely remedies.  We are once more a united household, and I can never thank our dear young friend here, Mr. Atwood, enough that he discovered my husband and brought him to us and to your able treatment.  Surely, Millie, your prejudice against him must vanish now, for—­”

“Mother,” cried Mildred, “if you have a grain of reason or self-control left, close your lips.  Oh, what a mockery it all is!”

When Belle took her astonished eyes from Mildred’s face, Roger, who stood near the door, was gone.

“You had better follow your daughter’s advice, Mrs. Jocelyn,” said the physician quietly and soothingly; “you are a little feverish, and I prescribe quiet.  May I see you alone a moment or two, Mr. Jocelyn?”

“Yes, here in my room,” added Mildred eagerly.

It was with the aspect of mingled fear and haughtiness that Mr. Jocelyn followed Dr. Benton into the apartment, and the door was closed.

“Mother, you are ill,” said Mildred, kneeling beside her.  “For my sake, for yours, pray keep quiet for a while.”

“Ill!  I never felt better in my life.  It’s all your unreasonable prejudice, Millie.”

“I think so too,” cried Belle indignantly.  “We were just beginning to have a little sunshine, and you have spoiled everything.”

“I am the only one who knows the truth, and I shall take the responsibility of directing our affairs for the next few hours,” replied Mildred, rising, with a pale, impassive face.  “Belle, my course has nothing to do with Roger Atwood.  I exceedingly regret, however, that he has been present.  Wait till you hear what Dr. Benton says;” and there was something so resolute and almost stern in her manner that even Mrs. Jocelyn, in her unnatural exaltation, yielded.  Indeed, she was already becoming drowsy from the effects of the narcotic.