The blow fell at breakfast time when her father had looked through the few letters which lay beside his plate. “Well, I do think that that young man’s rudeness is unpardonable!” Joy looked up with a pleasant smile which belied the chilly feeling about her heart. She felt that she must pretend ignorance; her father might, later on, hold a too ready acceptance as suspicious: “What, Daddy? Who? Whose rudeness?” “That--that gentleman whom I asked to dine with us. Mr. Hardy.” “Perhaps he may not have got your letter.” “How do you mean, daughter? He must have got it; I directed it to the address he gave me himself.” “But Daddy, he may be away. You remember he told you at dinner that day in the Holland that he had important business. It may have been prolonged you know. He may not even be in London.” “Then he should see that his letters are duly sent on to him.” “Certainly he ought. But perhaps Daddy he’s not as careful as we are. He may not be a man of business!” Colonel Ogilvie smiled: “I’m afraid that is a very bad argument my dear. You have just used the opposite!” “How so, Daddy?” she asked wrinkling up her brows. “You said he might be away on business!” He was so pleased with his combating of her argument that her purpose was effected; he abandoned the subject--for a time. The next morning, however, he renewed it again under similar circumstances: “I think, my dear, that we had better give up any idea of keeping that young man on the list of our friends. It is quite evident that he does not care to continue our acquaintanceship!” Joy suffered much this time; all the more because there was nothing that she could say which would be wise. She had to content herself with a commonplace acceptance of his views. So she answered with as steady a voice as she could manage: “Of course, Daddy! Whatever you think right!” The answer pleased her father; he showed it in his reply: “I am sorry about it, my dear; for he seemed a fine young fellow, and he saved you very bravely. However we cannot help it. _We_ did all we could to make him welcome; but we can’t force him to come to us. It isn’t an occasion for wain-ropes!” After a pause she ventured to say meekly: “Yes. It would be a pity if we had to quarrel with a man who did so much for us. I suppose if he _could_ show that he did not get your letter, then it would be--you could forgive him.” “Of course I would, my dear. But these English are so stand-off that there is no understanding them. I wanted to be friends with the man who saved my little girl … But there, it is no use wishing anything when people are pig-headed …” His words somehow made Joy’s heart glow. It might be all right yet, if only …