!" ejaculated her father. This _eternal_ school business of Deborah's
was beginning to get on his nerves. Yes, just a little on his nerves! Why
couldn't she give up one evening, just one, and get Laura out of this snarl
she was in? He heard her at the telephone, and presently she came back to
them.

"Oh, Edith," she said casually, "don't send any supper up to Laura. She
says she doesn't want any to-night. And ask Hannah to put a cot in my room.
Will you?"

"Yes, dear, I'll attend to it."

"Thanks." And again she left them. In silence, when the front door closed,
Edith looked at her father. This must be rather serious, Roger thought
excitedly. So Laura was to stay all night, while Deborah gallivanted off to
those infernal schools of hers! He had little joy in his paper that night.
The news of the world had such a trick of suddenly receding a million miles
away from a man the minute he was in trouble. And Roger was in trouble.
With each slow tick of the clock in the hall he grew more certain and more
disturbed. An hour passed. The clock struck nine. With a snort he tossed
his paper aside.

"Well, Edith," he said glumly, "how about some chess this evening?" In
answer she gave him a quick smile of understanding and sympathy.

"All right, father dear." And she fetched the board. But they had played
only a short time when Deborah's latchkey was heard in the door. Roger gave
an angry hitch to his chair. Soon she appeared in the doorway.

"May I talk to you, father?" she asked.

"I suppose so." Roger scowled.

"You'll excuse us, Edith?" she added.

"Oh, assuredly, dear." And Edith rose, looking very much hurt. "Of course,
if I'm not needed--"

At this her father scowled again. Why couldn't Deborah show her sister a
little consideration?

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Suppose we go into the study," she said.

He followed her there and shut the door.

* * * * *

"Well?" he asked, from his big leather chair. Deborah had remained
standing.

"I've got some bad news," she began.

"What is it?" he snapped. "School burnt down?" Savagely he bit off a
cigar.

"I've just had a talk with Harold," she told him. He shot a glance of
surprise and dismay.

"Have, eh--what's it all about?"

"It's about a divorce," she answered.

The lighted match dropped from Roger's hand. He snatched it up before it
was out and lit his cigar, and puffing smoke in a vigilant way again he
eyed his daughte