ke talking
to-day."

Scotty's knuckles met the door-panel with a bang. "But I do feel like
it," he responded; "and the inclination is increasing every moment. You
would try the patience of Job himself. Come, I'm waiting!" and he
shifted from one foot to the other restlessly.

Within the room there was a pause, so long that the Englishman thought
he was going to be refused point-blank; then an even voice said, "Come
in," and he entered.

He had expected to find Florence defiant and aggressive at the
intrusion. If he did not understand this daughter of his, he at least
knew, or thought he knew, a few of her phases. But she had not even
risen from her seat, and when he entered she merely turned her head
until her eyes met his. Scotty felt his parental dignity vanishing like
smoke,--his feelings very like those of a burglar who, invading a
similar boudoir, should find the rightful owner at prayer. His first
instinct was to beat a retreat, and he stopped uncertainly just within
the doorway.

"Well?" questioned Florence, and the pupils of her brown eyes widened.

Scotty flushed, but memory of the impassive Alec waiting below returned,
and his anger arose.

"How much longer are you going to keep that negro waiting?" he demanded.
"He has been here an hour already by the clock."

A look of almost childlike surprise came over the face of the girl, an
expression implying that the other was making a mountain out of a
mole-hill. "I really don't know," she said.

Scotty took a chair, and ran his long fingers through his hair
perplexedly. "Florence," he said, "at times you are simply maddening;
and I do not want to be angry with you. Alec says he is waiting for an
answer. What is it an answer to, please? It is my right to know."

Again there was a pause, so long that Scotty expected unqualified
refusal: and again he was disappointed. Without a word, the girl removed
the note from the envelope and passed it over to him.

Scotty read it and returned the sheet.

"You haven't written an answer yet, I judge?"

"No."

The Englishman's fingers were tapping nervously on the edge of the
chair-seat.

"I wish you to decline, then."

The childish expression left the girl's eyes, the listlessness left her
attitude.

"Why, if I may ask?" A challenge was in the query.

Scotty arose, and for a half-minute walked back and forth across the
disordered room. At last he stopped, facing his daughter.

"The reason, first of all, is