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"Why does he leave me when he knows I can't endure the sight of that

man?" she soliloquized, sorrowfully. "If he would stay by me the

creature would not dare make love to me. Oh, if we could only just be

lovers until all this dreadful uncertainty is past! I'm sure it would

come out all right, and I would gladly wait years for him, if only he

would let me!"

As she sat alone in her misery she heard Walcott take his departure. A

little later Darrell returned and went to his room, and soon after she

heard her aunt's step in the hall, followed by a quiet knock at her

door.

"Come in, auntie," she called, wondering what her errand might be.

"Have you gone to bed, Katherine, or are you up?" Mrs. Dean inquired,

for the room was dark.

"I'm up; why, auntie?"

"Your father said to tell you he wanted to see you, if you had not

retired."

Mrs. Dean stopped a moment to inquire for Kate's headache, and as she

left the room Kate heard her sigh heavily.

A happy thought occurred to Kate as she ran downstairs,--she would have

her father put a stop to Walcott's attentions; if he knew how they

annoyed her he would certainly do it. She entered the room where he

waited with her sunniest smile, for the stern, gruff-voiced man was the

idol of her heart and she believed implicitly in his love for her, even

though it seldom found expression in words.

But her smile faded before the displeasure in her father's face. He

scrutinized her keenly from under his heavy brows, but if he noted the

traces of tears upon her face, he made no comment.

"I did not suppose, Kate," he said, slowly, for he could not bring

himself to speak harshly to her,--"I did not suppose that a child of

mine would treat any guest of this house as rudely as you treated Mr.

Walcott to-night. I sent for you for an explanation."

"I did not mean to be rude, papa," Kate replied, seating herself on her

father's knee and laying one arm caressingly about his neck, "but he did

annoy me so to-night,--he has annoyed me so often of late,--I just

couldn't endure it any longer."

"Has Mr. Walcott ever conducted himself other than as a gentleman?"

"Why, no, papa, he is gentlemanly enough, so far as that is concerned."

"I thought so," her father interposed; "I should say that he had laid

himself out to entertain you and your friends and to make it pleasant

for all of us whenever he has been here. It strikes me that his manners

are very far from annoying; that he is a gentleman in every sense of the

word; he certainly carried himself like one to-night in the face of the

treatment you gave him."