nstantly of her wish. She had
tried having a confidant and it had brought her to this; henceforward
let her keep her own counsel. (So she mused, walking homeward in the
brilliant sunshine and light airs with J. Forsythe Avery, who had just
conquered his pique over his rejection last January.) That her one
confidant's honorable silence expressed his trust that she herself would
"tell" was possibly true; but that, in this no-quarter conflict between
them, was merely so much the worse for him. She would not think of him
at all. She had run away from him every time she had seen him; now she
had but to do it once more, and all would be as if it had never been....

At the Sabbath dinner-table, which was to-day uninvaded by guests, the
Heths' talk was animated. The imminent separation brought a certain
softness into the family atmosphere; papa basked in it. He had spent his
Sunday morning playing sixteen holes of golf at the Country Club, and
would have easily made the full round but for slicing three new balls
into the pond on the annoying seventeenth drive. This had provoked him
into smashing his driver, as he had a score of only eighty-eight at that
point, which was well below his personal bogey. Even mamma affected
interest in her spouse's explanations of how it all happened.

"Of course the caddy simply slipped the balls in his pockets the minute
your back was turned--they're all thieves, the little ragamuffins," said
she. "And, by the way, I haven't telephoned the bank about the silver."

Encouraged by his ladies' consideration, Mr. Heth proposed a little
afternoon jaunt with Cally.

"It's too pretty a day to stay in," said he. "Let's take the car, eh,
and run down and look at that new cantilever bridge at Apsworth?"

"Oh, papa!" said Cally, regretfully. "I promised Mr. Avery I'd take a
walk with him. He looked so fat and forlorn I didn't have the heart to
refuse. I'm so sorry."

Mr. Heth started to quote something about your daughter's being your
daughter, but when Cally added, "You know I'd lots rather go with you,
papa," he changed his mind, and went off to his nap instead.

Mamma similarly departed. Cally, not feeling nappy, sat in the library
and wrote to her lover the last letter but one she would write before
seeing him in New York. Her eager pen flew: but so did the minutes also,
or did the impetuous Avery anticipate the moment of his engagement? His
tender ring broke unexpectedly across her betrothal thoug