was too genuinely concerned at his little daughter's white face and
piteous look to heed that at all.

He leaned over and began stroking her soft little cheeks, and kissing
her. "Father's darling," he whispered. Then he said over his shoulder
to Aunt Maria, "I wish you would go into my room and get that flask
of brandy I keep in my closet."

Aunt Maria obeyed. She returned with the flask and a teaspoon, and
Maria's father made her swallow a few drops, which immediately warmed
her and made the strange rigidity disappear.

"I guess she had better stay in here with you the rest of the night,"
said Harry to his sister-in-law; but little Maria sat up
determinately.

"No, I'm going back to my own room," she said.

"Hadn't you better stay with your aunt, darling?"

Harry Edgham looked shamefaced and guilty. He saw that his
sister-in-law and Maria had been weeping, and he knew why, in the
depths of his soul. He saw no good reason why he should feel so
shamed and apologetic, but he did. He fairly cowered before the
nervous little girl and her aunt.

"Well, let father carry you in there, then," he said; and he lifted
up the slight little thing, carried her across the hall to her room,
and placed her in bed.