Your clothes are damp, and your feet wet, my darling," said the father,

"Are they?" answered Pet, looking down at her saturated garments and
glistening shoes. "I had not noticed them. Oh! I am so happy that she is
well now. The doctor called at the house just before I left, and said
she was out of all danger. He ordered me home."

"Very sensible of the doctor. Another hour of this watching might have
killed my poor child."

"So I took a last look at my dear teacher--who was asleep--and kissed
her, and came right away through the rain."

"It was foolish to do that without an umbrella and overshoes, my child.
But, as you were always forgetful of yourself, your father will not be
forgetful of you, at any rate." The inventor glanced significantly at
Marcus. That glance, so full of distrust, entered his soul. He longed to
say something--if only a word of common civility--to the young girl;
but he felt that there was now an impassable barrier between them.

"But what is the matter, Pet?" exclaimed the father. She had dropped
into a chair, and her head fell on one side. He sprang to catch her. So
did Marcus. But the inventor reached her first, and seized her in his
arms, directing another of his speaking looks at Marcus.

Pet roused herself at the touch of her father's hands, sat erect, and
opened her large blue eyes. "I am so sleepy," she said.

"Of course you are, my blessed; and to bed you must go at once. That is
my prescription. But, first--always first--a cup of tea."

The inventor darted to the stove, snatched up the teapot, poured out a
cup of the universal restorer, scalding his forefinger in the hurry,
milked and sugared it just right, and bore it to his daughter, who was
nodding again. She drank it dutifully, like medicine.

Children do not comprehend tea. We have to grow up to it. It is the
appointed balm of fatigued and sorrowing middle age.

In its function of medicine, the strong draught revived her, giving a
twist to her pretty features, and sending a lively shudder through her
slender frame. Pet rose from her seat quite briskly.

"Now to bed. To bed at once. No delay. And mind you put on all the
blankets, and your heavy shawl a-top of them."

"Yes, father."

Marcus blushed, twirled his hat, and made a motion toward the door.

"You need not go, Mr. Wilkeson," said the inventor. "I beg that you will
not. I wish to settle up that little unfinished business with you
to-night."

Marcus saw that th