discovers that Mrs. Ull
is in the upstairs sittin' room, and sends the message that Mr. Westlake
would like to see her right off about something important.

"But you got to buck up, my boy," says I; "for from all the dope I've
had you've got a jolt comin' to you."

That wa'n't any idle rumor, either. He'd hardly begun pacin' restless in
and out among the chairs and tables before we hears a heavy pad-pad on
the stairs, and the next thing we know the lady is standin' in the door.

Not such an awful stout old party as I'd looked for, nor she didn't have
such a bad face; but with the funny way she has her hair bobbed up, and
the weird way her dress fits her, like it had been cut out left-handed
in a blind asylum--well, she's a mess, that's all. It's an expensive
lookin' outfit too, and the jew'lry display around her lumpy neck and on
her pudgy fingers was enough to make you blink; but somehow it all
looked out of place.

For a second she stands there fingerin' her rings fidgety, and then
remarks unexpected: "It's about Doris, ain't it? Well, young feller,
what is it you got on your mind?"

And all of a sudden I tumbles to the fact that she's lookin' straight at
me. Then it was my turn to go panicky. "Excuse me, Ma'am," says I hasty,
"but that's the guilty party, the one over by the fireplace. Mr.
Westlake, Ma'am."

"Oh!" says she. "That one, eh? Well, let's have it!" and with that she
paddles over to a high-backed, carved mahogany chair and settles
herself sort of grim and defiant. I almost had to push Westy to the
front too.

"I expect you've talked this all over with her father, eh?" she goes on.
"I'm always the last to get wise to anything that goes on in this house,
specially if it's about Doris. Come, let's have it!"

"But I haven't seen Mr. Ull at all," protests Westy. "It--it's just
happened. And I thought you ought to know first. I want to ask you, Mrs.
Ull, if I may marry Doris?"

We wa'n't lookin' for what come next, either of us; her big red face had
such a hard, sullen look on it, like she knew we was sizin' her up and
meant to show us she didn't give a hoot what we thought. But as Westy
finishes and bows real respectful, holdin' out his hand friendly, the
change come. The hard lines around her mouth softens, the narrowed eyes
widen and light up, and her stiff under jaw gets trembly. A tear or so
trickles foolish down the side of her nose; but she don't pay any
attention. She's just starin' at Westy.