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“Give it to me instead, dear. I’ll take it when I go this afternoon.”

“Oh! Then what about our trip to the Dam with the Browns?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to be excused. I must do what I can for Katie. She has nobody.”

“She has the neighbors. Mrs. what’s her name, Dixon, is taking care of her. Besides, all the women for miles around flock together for an occasion of that sort. It will be rather ghastly.”

“Especially for Katie. That’s why I have to go.”

“Oh, Lord! if you feel you must. I’ll come with you.”

She rose from her chair and picked up the cheque he had left on the edge of the table. She had thought it all out within a few seconds, and in none of the pictures she had conjured up could she find a place for her husband. The fastidiousness which persisted through all his efforts to be “plain folks” could not be reconciled with the stark details of the tragedy ten miles down the road.

“No, Keble dear,” she replied with a firmness she knew he wouldn’t resist. More than once she had secretly wished he would resist her firmness, for every yielding on his part seemed to increase her habit of being firm, and that was a habit that bade fair to petrify the amiable little gaieties and pliancies of her nature. “You know you’ve been anxious about the Dam. It won’t do to put off the trip again. Katie will understand your absence, and she will feel comforted to have at least one dude present. You know I’m considered a dude, too, since my marriage. Nowadays my old friends address me as stiffly as we used to address the schoolma’am. ... It’s strange what trifles determine the manners of this world.”