after an absence of two weeks from the family circle—Constance expected news—but it seldom was all of a congratulatory kind. As the glowing Christine reeled off in big-print, headline fashion the various items of family victories, Constance said to herself, "I ought to be proud to belong to such a family. I ought to be glad to hear about their successes. What a selfish pig I am, not to be glad!"
Adelaide had been asked to be dean of a new summer college for women! Maude was going to have another baby! Christine herself had had another short story accepted—her fourth now! Bert had been made a first lieutenant and Harry a captain! And Constance was glad about each separate item. Of course she was! She had murmured, "Splendid," "Fine," "Great," in turn after each one. It was only the sum total of them that hurt. It was only the galling realization that she herself could add no glory at all to the family effulgence.
"Just think, Connie," Christine had exclaimed, unaware she was treading on tender ground—it had never occurred to her that Connie had it in her to envy any of them success—"Just think what feathers in dear old Dad's and Mother's caps. A lieutenant, a captain," she counted them off on her fingers, "a dean, another grandchild,
