Old John Bannister returned that night. Learning from Bailey's
trembling lips the tremendous events that had been taking place in his
absence, he was first irritated, then coldly amused. His coolness
dampened, while it comforted, Bailey.

A bearer of sensational tidings likes to spread a certain amount of
dismay and terror; but, on the other hand, it was a relief to him to
find that his father appeared to consider trivial a crisis which, to
Bailey, had seemed a disaster without parallel in the annals of
American social life.

"She said she was going to _marry_ him!"

Old Bannister opened the nut-cracker mouth that always had the
appearance of crushing something. His pale eyes glowed for an instant.

"Did she?" he said.

"She seemed very--ah--determined."

"_Did_ she!"

Silence falling like a cloud at this point, Bailey rightly conjectured
that the audience was at an end and left the room. His father bit the
end off a cigar and began to smoke.

Smoking, he reviewed the situation, and his fighting spirit rose to
grapple with it. He was not sorry that this had happened. His was a
patriarchal mind, and he welcomed opportunities of exercising his
authority over his children. It had always been his policy to rule them