she had done or was about to do something criminal. She could
not speak.

An awful silence, then her aunt--she no longer seemed her loving
aunt--asked in an ominous voice: "Is someone coming to see you, Susan?"

"Sam Wright"--stammered Susan--"I saw him this morning--he was
at their gate--and he said--I think he's coming."

A dead silence--Warham silent because he was eating, but the two
others not for that reason.

Susan felt horribly guilty, and for no reason. "I'd have spoken
of it before," she said, "but there didn't seem to be any
chance." She had the instinct of fine shy nature to veil the
soul; she found it hard to speak of anything as sacred as this
love of hers and whatever related to it.

"I can't allow this, Susie," said her aunt, with lips tightly
drawn against the teeth. "You are too young."

"Oh, come now, mother," cried Warham, good-humoredly. "That's
foolishness. Let the young folks have a good time. You didn't
think you were too young at Susie's age."

"You don't understand, George," said Fanny after she had given
him a private frown. Susie's gaze was on the tablecloth. "I
can't permit Sam to come here to see Susie."

Ruth's eyes were down also. About her lips was a twitching that