ollie's step as she
moved back and forth, back and forth, but dared not enter. A boy was
clipping the lawn, and the muffled purr of the mower, accompanied by the
bit of popular ragtime he was whistling, stole into the room.

Suddenly a carriage drove up in front of the house, and leaping from his
seat the driver stood waiting. The door of the vestibule opened, and
Scotty himself stepped uncertainly within. At the library entrance he
halted, but the odor of the black cigar he was smoking was wafted in.

Through it all, neither of the two in that room had stirred. It would
have been impossible to tell what Ben Blair was thinking. His eyes never
left the watch in his hand. During the first minute the girl had not
looked at her companion. Unappeasable anger seemed personified in her.
For half of the next minute she still stood impassive; then she glanced
up almost surreptitiously. For the long third minute the eyes held where
they had lifted, and slowly over the soft brown face, taking the place
of the former expression, came a look that was not of anger or of
hatred, not even of dislike, but of something the reverse, something all
but unbelievable. Her dark eyes softened. A choking lump came into her
throat; and still, in seeming paradox, she was of a sudden happier than
at any time she could remember.

Before the last minute was up, before Ben Blair had replaced the watch,
she was in the adjoining room saying good-bye to Mollie hurriedly;
saying something more,--a thing that fairly took the mother's breath.

"Florence Baker!" she gasped, "you shall not do it! If you do, I will
disown you! I will never forgive you--never! never!"

But, unheeding, the girl was already back, and looking into Ben's face.
Her eyes were very bright, and there was about her a suppressed
excitement that the other did not clearly understand.

"I am ready," she said, "on one condition."

Blair's blue eyes looked a question. In any other mood he would have
recognized Florence, but this strange person he hardly seemed to know.

"I am listening," he said.

The girl hesitated, the rosy color mounting to her cheeks. Decision of
action was far easier than expression.

"I will go with you," she faltered, "but alone."

A suggestion of the flame on the other's face sprang to the man's also.

"I think, under the circumstances," he stammered, "it would be better to
have your father go too."

The dainty brown figure stiffened.

"Very well, then