“My daughters!” broke out Mrs. Chilton.  And then, mastering her excitement:  “At least, you will permit me to look after my own children.”

“I noticed, my dear aunt, that Lucy May turned colour when Tom Aldrich came into the room last night.  Have you noticed anything?”

“Yes—­what of it?”

“It means that Lucy May is falling in love with Tom.”

“Why should she not?  I certainly consider him an eligible man.”

“And yet you know, Aunt Nannie, that he is one of Roger Peyton’s set.  You know that he goes about town getting drunk with the gayest of them, and you let Lucy May go on and fall in love with him!  You have taken no steps to find out about him—­you have not warned your daughter—­”

Mrs. Chilton was crimson with agitation.  “Warned my daughter!  Who ever heard of such a thing?”

Said Sylvia, quietly:  “I can believe that you never heard of it—­but you will hear soon.  The other day I had a talk with Lucy May—­”

“Sylvia Castleman!” And then it seemed Mrs. Chilton reminded herself that she was dealing with a dangerous lunatic.  “Sylvia,” she said, in a suppressed voice, “you mean to tell me that you have been poisoning my young daughter’s mind—­”

“You have brought her up well,” said Sylvia, as her aunt stopped for lack of words.  “She did not want to listen to me.  She said that young girls ought not to know about such matters.  But I pointed out Elaine, and then she changed her mind—­just as you will have to change yours in the end, Aunt Nannie.”

Mrs. Chilton sat glaring at her niece, her bosom heaving.  Then suddenly she turned her indignant eyes upon Mrs. Castleman.  “Margaret, cannot you stop this shocking business?  I demand that the tongues of gossip shall no longer clatter around the family of which I am a member!  My husband is the bishop of this diocese, and if our ancient and untarnished name is of no importance to Sylvia van Tuiver, then, perhaps the dignity and authority of the church may have some weight——­”

“Aunt Nannie,” interrupted Sylvia, “it will do no good to drag Uncle Basil into this matter.  I fear you will have to face the fact that from this time on your authority in our family is to be diminished.  You had more to do than any other person with driving me into the marriage that has wrecked my life, and now you want to go on and do the same thing for my sister and for your own daughters—­to marry them with no thought of anything save the social position of the man.  And in the same way you are saving up your sons to find rich girls.  You know that you kept Clive from marrying a poor girl in this town a couple of years ago—­and meantime it seems to be nothing to you that he’s going with men like Roger Peyton and Tom Aldrich, learning all the vices the women in the brothels have to teach him——­”

Poor “Miss Margaret” had several times made futile efforts to check her daughter’s outburst.  Now she and Aunt Varina started up at the same time.  “Sylvia!  Sylvia!  You must not talk like that to your aunt!”