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brought up together. He's a different type."
    "Oh. Oh. A different type from what? Eh?" It was the woman on the attack again, the mother of the son defending her brood, and she half rose from the chair.
    "You want to be careful what you say."
    Lizzie swallowed.
    "Well," she said, 'what I meant was, Charlie is a quiet kind of lad; he's never bothered with girls. "
    "No; perhaps because he had one close at hand."
    "Shut up!"
    All eyes in the room were immediately drawn to Peggy. She was sitting straight up on the edge of the chair.
    "Charlie Conway is a different type from your son. It was your son Andrew who ... who ... well, he is the father. I have never known any other boy. I was never out with a boy until I met him last Christmas at the school dance. And from then he ... he followed me. He came to the school and ... and set me home time and time again."
    "He did, Ma. I saw him, I mean waiting at the school gate, and once I saw them going across the field to ... interrupted Minn.
    "Will you shut your mouth, our Minn!"
    "Why should I? Because he's your bright-eyed boy? He couldn't do any wrong, could he, but " Be quiet! Minn. " It was her father speaking to her now; and the girl looked at him, her eyes blinking as if to ward off tears; but her voice held no tears when she said, " You know what I'm saying is true.
    It's always been our Andrew, our Andrew, our Andrew. Our Andrew's going to the Grammar School . Our Andrew's been picked for this . Our Andrew's been picked for that. "
    When the woman swung round in her chair her husband cried, "Enough!
    Enough! And she's right. She always is, you know. " He grinned now, then, looking at Lizzie, he said, " Families. Families. Well now, the thing to do is to get the lad in and confront him with this, isn't it?
    " He looked over his shoulder again to his daughter, saying, " Go and fetch him. He'll be in the shed seeing to his bike. "
    "I bet he isn't; I bet he's skipped." Minn interjected.
    A movement from her mother caused the girl to run from the room. And the father, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms, said, "Nice kettle of fish. He was all set to go places, you know. He could have an' all; he's bright. Oh, he's bright. Good at art an' figures. I could see him being a draughts man or an accountant. They're the blokes that make the money, the accountants. But if he's going to be lumbered with a
    hairn, well, that puts a different complexion on it, doesn't it? He won't be able to stay on at school. "
    "He will!" His wife interposed now. Her lips pouting, she repeated,
    "He will."
    "And who's going to support the child, eh?"
    "What's the matter with you, man? You're taking it already that it's his."
    "Well, what d'you think?"
    "Why should he support any child? They've got money." She was looking at Lizzie now.
    "Your people own the Funnell garage and showrooms, don't they? off the market place, so you're not without a penny."
    "That is quite beside the point at the present moment' Lizzie's voice was stiff 'but what is very much to the point is that my daughter is not going to bear an illegitimate child; she must be married."
    The husband and wife looked at each other as if Lizzie's words had come as a shock to them, which apparently they had, because Mrs. Jones, leaning slightly across the table now towards Lizzie, said, "He's only seventeen; he's too young to take responsibility like that."
    Like a flash Lizzie came back. Her hand swinging round as though to embrace Peggy, she retorted, "And so is my daughter too young to take the responsibility of a child without a father and the ensuing
    disgrace that child will have to bear all its life; not forgetting how people will look on its mother."
    It was at this moment that- the door opened and Andrew Jones entered the room. He stopped just within the doorway, but a push from his sister, who wanted to get in, caused him to take two quick steps forward, and at the same time to turn an angry glance down on her.
    Then he was