Life at Fernwood had been going on much the same as usual during these days which were so decisive to John. It was Fred Huntley’s inquiry as to when she had heard from John which had inspired Kate’s note to him. She had been half unhappy before, and full of wondering thoughts; but that question roused her. She could not let her love glide away from her without a word; she did not want to lose him; she could not believe it possible that there was any danger of losing him. All the rest were very well to talk to, or to flirt with, or dance with, or make useful. But John was John, and she had no desire to put any one else in his place. Kate said this to herself, and then she went down-stairs and yawned behind her fan at the other people who had so little to say, and was glad when Fred Huntley--but not till half the evening was over--came to her side to talk to her. He was a clever talker, and managed her very skilfully; and Kate could not make out how it was that all the other people were so stupid. She gave her father a little defiant glance when she caught his eye. “Papa seems to think I have no right to talk to any one now,” she said, half to herself, thus making Fred her confidant unawares. “Does he say so?” asked Fred. “Oh no, not in so many words--but he watches me as if I could not take care of myself. It is too bad. I don’t think he ever made himself so disagreeable all my life before. I had a great deal better stay in my own room where nobody need see me. To think of papa, you know, growing jealous for John----” She was so thoughtless that the idea had begun to move her to amusement; when she suddenly remembered words which Fred himself had said to her not so very long ago, and stopped short suddenly, growing very red, and naturally giving double point by her full stop and her blush to the suggestive words. “I mean it is so odd not to be able to do and say what one likes,” she went on hurriedly, faltering, and growing redder and redder in her consciousness. Fred was standing before her, leaning over the back of a chair, and looking very earnestly in her face. “So far as I am concerned,” he said, with a smile, “I will not have your liberty curbed. You must do and say what you like without any thought of me.” “Of you, Mr Huntley!” said Kate, with some confusion. “What should papa’s nonsense have to do with you?” “Miss Crediton,” said Fred, seriously, “don’t you know me well enough to be frank with me at least? I might pretend to think I had nothing to do with it, but I should not deceive you. Mr Crediton is concerned for his guest and not for his daughter; but, I repeat, so far as I am concerned, you are not to be curbed in your freedom. I prefer rather to be tortured than to be sent away.”