THE DINNER.

Colina did not see her father until he came home from the store for
dinner. She was already dressed and engaged in arranging the table.

John Gaviller's eyes gleamed approvingly at the sight of her in her
finery. Black silk became Colina's blond beauty admirably. Manlike,
he arrogated the extra preparations to himself. He thought it was a
kind of peace offering from Colina.

"Well!" he began jocularly, only to check himself at the sight of three
places set at the table. "Who's coming?" he demanded with natural
surprise.

Colina, busying herself attentively with the centerpiece of painter's
brush, wondered if her father had met Ambrose Doane. She gave him a
brief, offhand account of her adventure without mentioning their
guest's name.

"But who is it?" he asked.

She answered a little breathlessly; "Ambrose Doane of Moultrie."

Gaviller's face changed slightly. "H-m!" he said non-committally.

"Doesn't the table look nice?" said Colina quickly.

"Very nice," he said.