he saw, and stirring her, as that
had, with childish indignation. She kept on with unmoved face, however,
and at last turned into the planked side-terrace,--a part of her
father's munificence,--and reached the symmetrical garden-beds and
graveled walk. She ran up the steps of the veranda and entered the
drawing-room through the open French window. Glancing around the
familiar room, at her father's closed desk, at the open piano with the
piece of music she had been practicing that morning, the whole walk
seemed only a foolish dream that had frightened her. She was Cissy
Trixit, the daughter of the richest man in the town! This was her
father's house, the wonder of Canada City!

A ring at the front doorbell startled her; without waiting for the
servant to answer it, she stepped out on the veranda, and saw a boy whom
she recognized as a waiter at the hotel kept by Piney's father. He
was holding a note in his hand, and staring intently at the house and
garden. Seeing Cissy, he transferred his stare to her. Snatching the
note from him, she tore it open, and read in Piney's well-known scrawl,
"Dad won't let me come to you now, dear, but I'll try to slip out late
to-night." Why should she want to come? She had said nothing about
coming NOW--and why should her father prevent her? Cissy crushed the
note between her fingers, and faced the boy.

"What are you staring at--idiot?"

The boy grinned hysterically, a little frightened at Cissy's
straightened brows and snapping eyes.

"Get away! there's no answer."

The boy ran off, and Cissy returned to the drawing-room. Then it
occurred to her that the servant had not answered the bell. She rang
again furiously. There was no response. She called down the basement
staircase, and heard only the echo of her voice in the depths. How still
the house was! Were they ALL out,--Susan, Norah, the cook, the Chinaman,
and the gardener? She ran down into the kitchen; the back door was open,
the fires were burning, dishes were upon the table, but the kitchen was
empty. Upon the floor lay a damp copy of the "extra." She picked it
up quickly. Several black headlines stared her in the face. "Enormous
Defalcation!" "Montagu Trixit Absconded!" "50,000 Dollars Missing!" "Run
on the Bank!"

She threw the paper through the open door as she would have hurled back
the accusation from living lips. Then, in a revulsion of feeling lest
any one should find her there, she ran upstairs and locked herself in