him around."

"Father," pleaded Miss Cahill, timidly. From behind her back Ranson
shook his head at the post-trader in violent pantomime. "She'd better
go outside and wait, hadn't she, Mr. Cahill?" he directed.

As he was bidden, the post-trader raised his head and nodded toward
the door. The onslaught of sudden and new conditions overwhelmed and
paralyzed him.

"Father!" said Miss Cahill, "it isn't just as you think. Mr. Ranson
did ask me to marry him--in a way--At least, I knew what he meant.
But I did not say--in a way--that I would marry him. I mean it was
not settled, or I would have told you. You mustn't think I would have
left you out of this--of my happiness, you who have done everything
to make me happy."

She reproached her father with her eyes fastened on his face. His own
were stern, fixed, and miserable. "You will let it be, won't you,
father?" she begged. "It--it means so much. I--can't tell you--" She
threw out her hand toward Ranson as though designating a superior
being. "Why, I can't tell HIM. But if you are harsh with him or with
me it will break my heart. For as I love you, father, I love him--and
it has got to be. It must be. For I love him so. I have always loved
him. Father," she whispered, "I love him so."

Ranson, humbly, gratefully, took the girl's hand and led her gently
to the veranda and closed the door upon her. Then he came down the
room and regarded his prospective father-in-law with an expression of
amused exasperation. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his