you remember--your dress--your music," she stopped,
in amazement at herself. It was rarely indeed that she answered any
accusation of her stepmother's. But to be on the mat at midnight, with
Bob in support, seemed to give her extraordinary courage.

"You see, Mrs. Rainham, there seems to have been quite a number of
little details that Cecilia couldn't mismanage," said Bob, following
up the advantage. It was happily evident that his stepmother's rage was
preventing her from speaking, and, as he remarked later, there was no
knowing when he would ever get such a chance again. "She really needed
rest. I'm sure you'll agree that every one is entitled to some free
time. Of course, you couldn't possibly have realized that it was a week
since she had been off duty."

"It's her business to do what I tell her," said Mrs. Rainham, finding
her voice, in an explosive fashion that made a passing policeman glance
up curiously. "She knew I had company, and expected her help. I had
to see to the children's tea myself. And how do I know where she's
been?--gallivanting round to all sorts of places! I tell you, young
lady, you needn't think you're going to walk in here at midnight as if
nothing was the matter."

"I never expected to," said Cecilia cheerfully. "But it was worth it."

Bob regarded her in solemn admiration.

"I don't think we gallivanted at all reprehensibly," he said. "Just
dinner and a theatre. I haven't made much claim to her time during the
last four years, Mrs. Rainham; surely I'm entitled to a little of it
now."

"You!" Mrs. Rainham's tone was vicious. "You don't give her a home, do
you? And as long as I do, she'll do what I tell her."

"No; I don't give her a home--yet," said Bob very quietly. "But I very
soon will, I assure you; and meanwhile, she earns a good deal more than
her keep in her father's house. You can't treat her worse than your
servants--"

Cecilia suddenly turned to him.

"Ah, don't, Bob darling. It doesn't matter--truly--not a bit." With the
end of the long penance before her, it seemed beyond the power of the
angry woman in the doorway to hurt her much. What she could not bear was
that their happy evening should be spoiled by hard and cruel words at
its close. Bob's face, that had been so merry, was sterner than she
had ever seen it, all its boyishness gone. She put up her own face, and
kissed him.

"Good night--you mustn't stay any longer. I'll be all right." She
whispered a few quick w