When she burst in upon her mother, half an hour later, that excellent
lady started up from her couch, alarmed by the excitement in her
daughter's face. Mrs. Rodney, good soul, was one of the kind who always
think the world is coming to an end, or the house is on fire, or the
king has been assassinated, if any one approaches with a look of
distress in his face.

"My dear, my dear!" she cried, as Katherine stopped tragically in the
doorway. "What has happened to your father? Speak!"

"Mamma, it's worse than that! I--"

"Merciful heaven!" The good lady blindly reached for her smelling salts.

"I've made a dreadful discovery," went on Katherine in suppressed tones.
"It came to me like a flash. I couldn't believe my own brain. So I
watched them from my window. There's no doubt about it, mamma. It's as
plain as the nose on your face. He--"

"My darling, what are you talking about? Is my nose--what is the matter
with my nose?" She vaguely felt of her nose in horror.

"He's in love with her. There's no mistake. And, will you believe me,
mamma, she is _encouraging_ him! Positively! Why--why, it's utterly
contemptible! Oh, dear, what are we to do?"

Mrs. Rodney looked blankly at her daughter, who had thrown herself in a
chair. She gasped and then gave vent to a tremulous squeak.