ely to
get the talk away from it, when she heard her father's step in the hall
below.

Hilary gave a start of question, when he looked into the library, that
brought Maxwell to his feet. "Mr. Hilary, I'm connected with the _Daily
Abstract_, and I've come to see if you are willing to talk with me about
this rumored accident to Mr. Northwick."

"No, sir! No, sir!" Hilary stormed back. "I don't know any more about
the accident, than you do! I haven't a word to say about it. Not a word!
Not a syllable! I hope that's enough?"

"Quite," said Maxwell, and with a slight bow to Louise, he went out.

"Oh, papa!" Louise moaned out, "how _could_ you treat him so?"

"Treat him so? Why shouldn't I treat him so? Confound his impudence!
What does he mean by thrusting himself in here and taking possession of
my library? Why didn't he wait in the hall?"

"Patrick showed him in here. He saw that he was a gentleman!"

"Saw that he was a gentleman?"

"Yes, certainly. He is very cultivated. He's not--not a common reporter
at _all_!" Louise's voice trembled with mortification for her father,
and pity for Maxwell, as she adventured this assertion from no previous
experience of reporters. It was shocking to feel that it was her father
who had not been the gentleman. "You--you might have been a little
kinder, papa; he wasn't at all obtrusive; and he only asked you whether
you would say anything. He didn't persist."

"I didn't intend he should persist," said Hilary. His fire of straw
always burnt itself out in the first blaze; it was uncomfortable to find
himself at variance with his daughter, who was usually his fond and
admiring ally; but he could not give up at once. "If you didn't like the
way I treated him, why did you stay?" he demanded. "Was it necessary for
you to entertain him till I came in? Did he ask for the family? What
does it all mean?"

The tears came into her eyes, and she said with indignant resentment:
"Patrick didn't know I was here when he brought him in; I'm sure I
should have been glad to go, when you began raging at him, papa, if I
_could_. It wasn't very pleasant to hear you. I won't come any more, if
you don't want me to. I thought you liked me to be here. You said you
did."

Her father blustered back: "Don't talk nonsense. You'll come, just as
you always have. I suppose," he added, after a moment, in which Louise
gathered up her shoes, and stood with them in one hand behind her, a
tall figure of hurt affec