I looked, too, and we both saw through the window that she had gone into the library and lighted up and was sitting at the table reading.
I fell back in my chair, and I know I looked grieved and hurt and disappointed, as I almost sobbed: "Oh, Father, and when I _thought_ you were going to!" "There, there, child!" He spoke, stern and almost cross now.

"This absurd, nonsensical idea has gone quite far enough.

Let us think no more about it." "It isn't absurd and nonsensical!" I cried.

And I could hardly say the words, I was choking up so.

"Everybody said you were going to, and I wrote Mother so; and--" "You wrote that to your mother ?" He did jump from his chair this time.
"Yes; and she was glad." "Oh, she was!" He sat down sort of limp-like and queer.
"Yes.