he remarked. "The ladies are anxious to wish
you good morning."

Trent faced them with a sudden gesture of impatience. He seemed on the
point of an angry exclamation, when his eyes met Julie Da Souza's. He
held his breath for a moment and was silent. Her face was scarlet
with shame, and her lips were trembling. For her sake Trent restrained
himself.

"Glad to see you back again, Julie," he said, ignoring her mother's
outstretched hand and beaming smile of welcome. "Going to be a hot day,
I think. You must get out in the hay-field. Order what breakfast you
please, Da Souza," he continued on his way to the door; "you must be
hungry-after such an early start!"

Mrs. Da Souza sat down heavily and rang the bell.

"He was a little cool," she remarked, "but that was to be expected. Did
you observe the notice he took of Julie? Dear child!"

Da Souza rubbed his hands and nodded meaningly. The girl, who, between
the two, was miserable enough, sat down with a little sob. Her mother
looked at her in amazement.

"My Julie," she exclaimed, "my dear child! You see, Hiram, she is faint!
She is overcome!"

The child, she was very little more, broke out at last in speech,
passionately, yet with a miserable fore-knowledge of the ineffectiveness
of anything she might say.

"It is horrible," she cried, "it is maddening! Why do we do it? Are we
paupers or adventurers? Oh! let me go away! I am ashamed to stay in this
house!"

Her father, his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and his legs far
apart, looked at her in blank and speechless amazement; her mother, with
more consideration but equal lack of sympathy, patted her gently on the
back of her hand.

"Silly Julie," she murmured, "what is there that is horrible, little
one?"

The dark eyes blazed with scorn, the delicately curved lips shook.

"Why, the way we thrust ourselves upon this man is horrible!" she cried.
"Can you not see that we are not welcome, that he wishes us gone?"

Da Souza smiled in a superior manner; the smile of a man who, if only he
would, could explain all things. He patted his daughter on the head with
a touch which was meant to be playful.

"My little one," he said, "you are mistaken! Leave these matters to
those who are older and wiser than you. It is but just now that my good
friend said to me, 'Da Souza,' he say, 'I will not have you take your
little daughter away!' Oh, we shall see! We shall see!"

Julie's tears crept through the fingers