I left the door open, but there was only the sound of revelry below. I felt then that it was to be the convent. I pinned a towel around my face, the way the nuns wear whatever they call them, and from the side it was very becoming. I really did look like Julia Marlowe, especially as my face was very sad and tragic. At something before seven every one had gone, and I heard Sis and mother come upstairs to dress for dinner. I sat and waited, and when I heard father I got cold all over. But he went on by, and I heard him go into mother's room and close the door. Well, I knew I had to go through with it, although my life was blasted. So I dressed and went downstairs. Father was the first down. HE CAME DOWN WHISTLING. It is perfectly true. I could not believe my ears. He approached me with a smiling face. "Well, Bab," he said, exactly as if nothing had happened, "have you had a nice day?" He had the eyes of a basilisk, that creature of fable. "I've had a lovely day, Father," I replied. I could be basilisk-ish also. There is a mirror over the drawing room mantle, and he turned me around until we both faced it. "Up to my ears," he said, referring to my height. "And lovers already! Well, I daresay we must make up our minds to lose you." "I won't be lost," I declared, almost violently. "Of course, if you intend to shove me off your hands, to the first idiot who comes along and pretends a lot of stuff, I----" "My dear child!" said father, looking surprised. "Such an outburst! All I was trying to say, before your mother comes down, is that I--well, that I understand and that I shall not make my little girl unhappy by--er--by breaking her heart." "Just what do you mean by that, father?" He looked rather uncomfortable, being one who hates to talk sentiment. "It's like this, Barbara," he said. "If you want to marry this young man--and you have made it very clear that you do--I am going to see that you do it. You are young, of course, but after all your dear mother was not much older than you are when I married her." "Father!" I cried, from an over-flowing heart. "I have noticed that you are not happy, Barbara," he said. "And I shall not thwart you, or allow you to be thwarted. In affairs of the heart, you are to have your own way." "I want to tell you something!" I cried. "I will NOT be cast off! I----" "Tut, tut," said Father. "Who is casting you off? I tell you that I like the young man, and give you my blessing, or what is the present-day equivalent for it, and you look like a figure of tragedy!" But I could endure no more. My own father had turned on me and was rending me, so to speak. With a breaking heart and streaming eyes I flew to my chamber. There, for hours I paced the floor.