"You see we thought you might accept our invitation to dinner," said
Harry heartily, as he grasped his parent's passive hand; "but your
business hours are so short, I dare say you have been at home since the
middle of the afternoon." As he spoke the hard lines of his father's
impassive face smote him with a thousand associations, many of them
bringing remorse. He wondered how much his own conduct had had to do
with graving them so deeply.

His wife's observant eyes were scanning this guardian of her child
from the crown of his immaculate head to the toes of his correct patent
leathers. His expressionless eyes turned to her. "This is your wife?" he
asked, again offering the passive hand.

"Yes, father, this is Julia," responded Harry proudly. "I'm sorry the
time is so short. I do want you to know her."

The young man's face grew eloquent.

"That is a pleasure to come," responded Mr. Evringham mechanically. He
turned stiffly and cast a glance about. "You brought your daughter, I
presume?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Mrs. Evringham. "Harry was so glad to receive
your permission. We had made arrangements for her provisionally with
friends in Chicago, but we were desirous that she should have this
opportunity to see her father's home and know you."

Mr. Evringham thought with regret of those friends in Chicago. Many
times in the last two days he had deeply repented allowing himself to be
exasperated into thus committing himself.