with both his arms a movement as if to sweep her
before him, through the waiting-room, up into the presence of the
public.

"In a moment I shall be ready. My father is making that all right." And,
to Ransom's surprise, she smiled, with all her sweetness, at the
irrepressible agent; appeared to wish genuinely to reassure him.

The three had moved together into the waiting-room, and there at the
farther end of it, beyond the vulgar, perfunctory chairs and tables,
under the flaring gas, he saw Mrs. Tarrant sitting upright on a sofa,
with immense rigidity, and a large flushed visage, full of suppressed
distortion, and beside her prostrate, fallen over, her head buried in
the lap of Verena's mother, the tragic figure of Olive Chancellor.
Ransom could scarcely know how much Olive's having flung herself upon
Mrs. Tarrant's bosom testified to the convulsive scene that had just
taken place behind the locked door. He closed it again, sharply, in the
face of the reporter and the policeman, and at the same moment Selah
Tarrant descended, through the aperture leading to the platform, from
his brief communion with the public. On seeing Ransom he stopped short,
and, gathering his waterproof about him, measured the young man from
head to foot.

"Well, sir, perhaps _you_ would like to go and explain our hitch," he
remarked, indulging in a smile so comprehensive that the corners of his
mouth seemed almost to meet behind. "I presume that you, better than any
one else, can give them an insight into our difficulties!"

"Father, be still; father, it will come out all right in a moment!"
cried Verena, below her breath, panting like an emergent diver.

"There's one thing I want to know: are we going to spend half an hour
talking over our domestic affairs?" Mr. Filer demanded, wiping his
indignant countenance. "Is Miss Tarrant going to lecture, or ain't she
going to lecture? If she ain't, she'll please to show cause why. Is she
aware that every quarter of a second, at the present instant, is worth
about five hundred dollars?"

"I know that--I know that, Mr. Filer; I will begin in a moment!" Verena
went on. "I only want to speak to Mr. Ransom--just three words. They are
perfectly quiet--don't you see how quiet they are? They trust me, they
trust me, don't they, father? I only want to speak to Mr. Ransom."

"Who the devil is Mr. Ransom?" cried the exasperated, bewildered Filer.

Verena spoke to the others, but she looked at her lover, and