"But, daddy dear, 'was' it true? Mr. Everett did tell us you fell right down, and couldn't tell where you were at first. And he said you looked 'awfully bad.' Was it true?" Flo's lips were quivering still with the rebuke she had received. "James Everett is a silly boy to go and chatter. I was a trifle dizzy, I'll admit, but nothing to make a fuss about, nothing at all, you understand. I'll write a line to Everett, and bid him hold his tongue, and Ken shall take it round presently. And the less you both say to your mother the better." "I told you so, Flo! I said father wouldn't like you to repeat it." "Never mind! It's all right,—no harm done! Nobody is going to say anything more. I think I'll lie down for an hour, and then I'll be myself again." Mackenzie kissed Flo and patted Euphrasia's arm as he rose to move away. The slight fluster of talk had brought again confused sensations. "Flo, you'd better tell mother where to take the coffee. Father will be upstairs." Then, as she vanished, Euphrasia came nearer and asked, "Is nothing the matter really? Not like what Mr. Everett said?" Mackenzie stood still, leaning on the back of a tall chair. "I was—not just the thing, my dear; Everett was not so far wrong. Just a passing little attack, but I'm not to be counted ill; and Dr. North hopes it will not recur. I would not have your mother know, on any account. She would give herself no peace." "Did anything happen to worry you, father?" "Things do happen once in a way!" Mackenzie spoke evasively. And Euphrasia, looking straight up into his face, read there an unwonted shadow, as of something impending. "It isn't only that you are poorly," she said decisively. "Not only just a headache, father. Something or other has gone wrong at the Bank." "Hush! My dear! I wouldn't have you overheard for anything. That is not your business. Something of worry comes, of course, now and again; and very often it means nothing—just nothing at all. Why should it? I am not quite what I was since the influenza, and a trifle too easily knocked down, perhaps. But you must not talk to people as if I had any special weight upon my mind. Be sure you do not! I would not have it said for anything. And I'll be all right in the morning." "I will not tell, of course, but of course I can't help seeing," Euphrasia answered sturdily. Then an impulse came, and she acted upon it, without pausing to consider. "Father—would you like—would you rather—if you like, I'll put off going to the Johnstons! Shall I? If you are bothered, and would like to have me at home!" As she made the offer, her heart gave a resisting bound, and then sank low at his look of instant relief. But quickly as she saw what his wish would be, so quickly he saw what the giving up would mean to her.