her arm across her mother's shoulder and propelled her from the room.
David stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor; and Howat, hardly less
clumsy, took his departure. He found Caroline awaiting him in the shadow
of his door; she followed him and stood silent while he made a light.
Her face was serious, and her hands clasped tightly. "Howat," she said
in a small voice, "it's--it's, that is, David loves me. Whatever do you
suppose father and Myrtle will say?"

"What do you think David is saying to Myrtle now?" he asked drily. "I am
glad, Caroline; everything worked out straight for you. David is a
damned good Quaker. For some others life isn't so easy." She laid a warm
hand on his shoulder. "I wish you were happy, Howat." A slight
irritation seized him at the facile manner in which she radiated her
satisfaction, and he moved away. "David's going back to-night. I wish he
wouldn't," she said troubled. "That long, dark way. Anything might
happen. But he has simply got to be at his father's office in the
morning. He is going to speak to him first, see what will be given us at
the Furnace."

"It should be quite a family party at breakfast," Howat predicted.




VII


He was entirely right. Ludowika rarely appeared so early; Myrtle's face
seemed wan and pinched, and her father rallied her on her indisposition
after what should have been an entrancing evening. She declared