Lorelei exploded her bomb at breakfast Sunday morning, and the
effect was all she had dreaded. Fortunately, Jim had gone out, so
she had only to combat her mother's panic-stricken objections and
her father's weak persuasions. So keen, however, was the girl's
humiliation at Merkle's disclosure that Mrs. Knight dared not go
to the lengths she would otherwise have allowed herself, and
Lorelei's merciless accusations left little to be said in self-
defense. Of course, the usual tears followed, likewise repetitions
of the time-worn plea that it had all been done for Lorelei's own
good and had been prompted by unselfish love for her.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," Lorelei said, slowly. "I think you
all look upon me as a piece of property to do with as you please.
Perhaps I'm disloyal and ungrateful, but--I can't help it. And I
can't forgive you yet. When I can I'll come home again, but it's
impossible for me to live here now, feeling as I do. I want to
love you--so I'm--going to run away."

Tragically, through her tears, Mrs. Knight inquired: "What will
become of us? We can't live--Jim never does anything for us." In
Peter's watery stare was abject fright. "Lorelei wouldn't let us
suffer," he ventured, tremulously. "I'm sick. I may die any time,
so the doctor says." He was indeed a changed man; that easy good
humor that had been his most likable trait had been lost in
habitual peevishness.

"I'll keep the house running as before," his daughter assured
them, "and I'll manage to get along on what's left. But you
mustn't be quite so extravagant, that's all. I sha'n't be--and you