that I do not like this man Sidwell in any
particular. If you respect my wishes you will have nothing to do with
him or with any of his class in future. The second reason is that it is
high time some one was watching the kind of affairs you attend." The
speaker looked down on the girl sternly. "I think it unnecessary to
suggest that neither of us desires a repetition of last night's
experience."

Of a sudden, her face very red, Florence was likewise upon her feet. In
the irony of circumstances, Sidwell could not have had a more powerful
ally. Her decision was instantly formed.

"I quite agree with you about the incident of last evening," she flamed.
"As to who shall be my associates, and where I shall go, however, I am
of age--" and she started to leave the room.

But preventing, Scotty was between her and the door. "Florence,"--his
face was very white and his voice trembled,--"we may as well have an
understanding now as to defer it. Maybe, as you say, I have no authority
over you longer; but at least I can make a request. You know that I
love you, that I would not ask anything which was not for your good.
Knowing this, won't you at my request cease going with this man? Won't
you refuse his invitation for to-night?"

Nearer than ever before in his life was the Englishman at that moment to
grasping the secret of control of this child of many moods. Had he but
learned it a few years, even a few months, sooner--But again was the
satire of fate manifest, the same irony which, jealously withholding the
rewards of labor, keeps the student at his desk, the laborer at his
bench, until the worse than useless prizes flutter about like Autumn
leaves.

For a moment following Scotty's request there was absolute silence and
inaction; then, with a little appealing movement, the girl came close to
him.

"Oh, daddy!" she cried. "Dear old daddy! You make it so hard for me! I
know you love me, and I do want to do as you wish; I want to be good;
but--but"--the brown head was upon Scotty's shoulder, and two soft arms
gripped him tight,--"but," the voice was all but choking, "I can't let
him go now. It's too late!"

* * * * *

The driving of his own conveyance was to Sidwell a source of pride. It
was therefore no surprise to Florence that at dusk he and his pair of
thoroughbreds should appear alone. The girl, very grave, very quiet, had
been waiting for him, and was ready almost before he stopped. Wit