He sighed heavily. "Why, General, I supposed--I thought--maybe it would be better for you just to tell her you are old enough to take charge yourself now, and--I think she would take it better from you." "Oh, father, what a coward you are," she said sadly. "You call me General, and I know I rule you with a rod of iron, but I haven't much backbone in my army, I am sure of that. Well, then, I will break it to Miss Carlton." She looked thoughtfully out at the branches swaying lazily in the warm wind. "I wonder how the Problem will take it? She is so likely to object, you know." He cleared his throat anxiously. "Oh, you can fix it up with her some way." "I am to do that, too, am I?" laughed the General. "You'd better look up that epistle about the armor, father. You need a breastplate, and a steel helmet, and a sword of faith--and quite a lot of things. Run along then, dearest, and don't bother me. Miss Carlton will be here in a few minutes, and I must prepare my campaign." Mr. Artman reached hastily for his hat. "I--I think I shall go down-town a while--I need some fresh air-- That mean little headache again, you know--and I must see Mr. James. Pretty sick man. I may not be home for dinner to-night. Don't sit up for me--and don't let anybody else." "A good thing we have a sick member, isn't it?" she teased. "You aren't going to get home until the storm is over, are you?" She shook her curls at him reprovingly. "Such a good, sweet, faithful preacher you are--and such an awful coward when it comes to us women." "I tell you, Doris," he said sturdily, "I think it would be easier to face a den of lions, or a howling mob of I.W.W.'s, or any number of ordinary sinners, than one Christian woman when she wants--she makes up her mind--I mean--" "You mean, when she is getting you ready to propose to her, I suppose. I do not blame you, father.--Fly, here she comes. Scoot out the back door, and sneak through the barn. It will be over by morning. Run, you coward, run," she cried, shooing him gaily out the back door. Then she went back to the bay-window, and sat down with the mending, her pretty brows puckered. "Miss Carlton is wax in my hands," she thought. "But whatever in the world will Rosalie say? If one only knew what to expect, it would not be so serious. But nobody ever can predict how our lovely little old Problem of a Rosalie will take anything." "Still mending, dear Doris?" came a voice of studied sweetness from the doorway. "Yes, still at it. But I did not work all the time. I have been playing with father. He is such a tease." Miss Carlton looked around the wide room anxiously, hopefully. "He is gone now--to see Mr. James, I think--somebody sick, anyhow. I have been having a serious time with him, Miss Carlton." She dropped the mending and looked at the older, much older woman, with frank, straightforward, innocent eyes. "They call me General, but they never want to do as I say."