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.He sometimes wondered whether anything was amiss with Rosemary.Oh, she was well and busy, willing and agreeable.but he and she seemed locked away from communication and he, covering his seething doubts, wore the same armor of perfect courtesy.Mr.Gibson sat in the sunny living room one morning, which was where he tended to sit.He did not often sit out of doors, where Mrs.Pyne was to be seen a lonely figure in her wheel chair on the Townsends' porch.He had found he did not enjoy it.Perhaps the light was too cruel, and fell too harshly from the sky.Perhaps he had become used to a more cloistered effect and in physical weakness preferred it.At any rate, he sat indoors and thought to himself, this morning, that he had never met anything so grueling, so nearly maddening, as this adult atmosphere of mutual forebearance and perfect meaningless harmony.While he pondered ways and means of rebellion, with only half a heart that ached obscurely but all the time, Mrs.Violette was dusting.(Both Ethel and Rosemary had asked him whether he minded, and he had said of course he did not mind.) He watched her swift coordinated motion with a little idle pleasure.There was no air of good will about Mrs.Violette particularly.She did her job, in her cool silent way, not caring whether he minded.She rather refreshed him.She was shifting the ornaments on the mantelpiece when she suddenly seemed to become aware of something behind her.She jerked her head aroundand with that abrupt movement the cloth in her hand flicked out at a small blue vase and it fell.It smashed."Oh dear," said Ethel, who had come in on quiet feet, "and that belongs to Mr.Townsend.""We can find another," said Mr.Gibson automatically.Mrs.Violette ducked down and began to pick up the pieces.He noted the easy crouch of the knee, the slim straight back.Ethel said, "Such a lovely blue! Didn't I speak of that only yesterday?""I didn't mean to do it," spat Mrs.Violette with an astonishing burst of anger."Of course you didn't mean to do it," said Ethel soothingly."You couldn't help it."Mr.Gibson watching Mrs.Violette's face found himself beginning to blink.Why was she so furious?Rosemary came, called from her bedroom by the noise, "Oh, too bad.I don't suppose it costs much, do you?"Ethel said, "No, no, I've seen them in the dime store.It's not expensive.""Please don't worry about it, Mrs.Violette," said Rosemary at once."I just hope you haven't cut yourself.""No ma'am," said Mrs.Violette, rising.She looked boldly at Ethel for a moment."I'll pay for it." she said contemptuously.She walked across the room with the bits of pottery in her hand and disappeared into the kitchen."We can't let her pay for it," said Mr.Gibson, "when it was just an accident."Ethel was smiling a peculiar smile."She seems to know it was no accident," she said musingly."How odd!""What do you mean, no accident?" said Mr.Gibson in surprise."She did it because she dislikes me, of course.""Ethel.!""She does, you know.And I did admire the color of that vase in her hearing only yesterday.She dislikes me because I check up on her, which is more than either of you seem to do.""But.what need.?" he said bewildered."What need? Oh me," sighed Ethel seating herself."I believe a servant could steal you blind and you'd never know, either of you."Mr.Gibson felt like a Babe-in-the-Wood.Such a thought had never occurred to him."I don't think she'd steal," said Rosemary in a low voice, hesitantly."Do you, Kenneth?""Of course not!" he exploded."Of course not," mocked Ethel."No ' of course ' not' about it.These foreigners don't have the same ideas of honesty as you do.She wouldn't call it stealing.but you would, and so would I.""What has she stolen?" said Rosemary, looking a bit flushed."She takes food," said Ethel, looking mysterious."All foreigners take food.They don't think of it as property.""She eats," said Rosemary."That is true."They were in conflict.Mr.Gibson held his guilty delighted breath."Nor any small loose-lying thing," Ethel went on, drawling."Don't you ever take precautions, you dear sheltered people? Don't you believe in the fact of theft? I hate to think what would happen to you in less bucolic places.There is wickedness in this world.""Really," said Mr.Gibson much annoyed."I see no more reason to believe that Mrs.Violette would steal than to believe she broke that vase on purpose.And I was right here, Ethel.I saw what happened.""You think you did," said Ethel, as to a very young child.He felt shaken."It's the first thing she has broken," began Rosemary."She's been quite remarkable.""Quite so," said Ethel with satisfaction."Of course, it is the first thing.Don't you se© she resents me, and has, since the moment I came? So she breaks something I liked.I'm not blaming her.I merely understand."Mr.Gibson had a faint sense of something fading out of his peripheral vision."For heaven's sakes, Ethel," he sputtered."Anyone can have an accident!" • "There is no such thing as an accident," said Ethel calmly."Honestly, Ken, you are ignorant in some fields.Subconsciously she wanted to spite me.She likes to be let entirely alone the way you let her be.But, of course, I am not such an easy mark.""What on earth are you saying?" said Mr.Gibson in amazement."Of course, there is such a thing as an accident.She turned to look because you startled her.and then her hand.""Oh no," said Ethel."Wait a minute." Mr.Gibson turned to see what might be on Rosemary's face but Rosemary was no longer in the room.She was gone.It was disconcerting.Mr.Gibson turned back and said severely, "I don't agree with your suspicions, Ethel.""Suspicions?" sighed Ethel, "or normal precautions? The fact is, old dear," she continued affectionately, "all of us can't live in a romantic, poetical and totally gentle world.Some of us have to face things as they are." Her bright eyes were direct and honest and he feared they were wise."Face reality," she said."What reality?" he snapped."Facts," said Ethel
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