Yes, just like that he said it--that awful lie--and to my mother. My stars! Do you suppose I waited to hear any more? I guess not! [Illustration: "WHY MUST YOU WAIT, DARLING?"] I fairly tumbled off my seat, and my book dropped with a bang, as I ran forward. Dear, dear, but how they did jump--both of them! And I guess they _were_ surprised. I never thought how 'twas going to affect them--my breaking in like that. But I didn't wait--not a minute. And I didn't apologize, or say "Excuse me," or any of those things that I suppose I ought to have done. I just started right in and began to talk. And I talked hard and fast, and lots of it. I don't know now what I said, but I know I asked him what he meant by saying such an awful lie to my mother, when he'd just said the same thing, exactly 'most, to Theresa, and he'd hugged her and kissed her, and everything. I'd _seen_ him. And-- But I didn't get a chance to say half I wanted to. I was going on to tell him what I thought of him; but Mother gasped out, "Marie! _Marie! Stop_!" And then I stopped. I had to, of course. Then she said that would do, and I might go to my room. And I went. And that's all I know about it, except that she came up, after a little, and said for me not to talk any more about it, to her, or to any one else; and to please try to forget it. I tried to tell her what I'd seen, and what I'd heard that wicked, deep-dyed villain say; but she wouldn't let me. She shook her head, and said, "Hush, hush, dear"; and that no good could come of talking of it, and she wanted me to forget it. She was very sweet and very gentle, and she smiled; but there were stern corners to her mouth, even when the smile was there. And I guess she told him what was what. Anyhow, I know they had quite a talk before she came up to me, for I was watching at the window for him to go; and when he did go he looked very red and cross, and he stalked away with a never-will-I-darken-this-door-again kind of a step, just as far as I could see him. I don't know, of course, what will happen next, nor whether he'll ever come back for Theresa; but I shouldn't think even _she_ would want him, after this, if she found out. And now where's _my_ love story coming in, I should like to know? * * * * * _Two days after Christmas_. Another wonderful thing has happened. I've had a letter from Father--from _Father_--a _letter_--ME! It came this morning. Mother brought it in to me. She looked queer--a little. There were two red spots in her cheeks, and her eyes were very bright. "I think you have a letter here from--your father," she said, handing it out. She hesitated before the "your father" just as she always does. And 'tisn't hardly ever that she mentions his name, anyway. But when she does, she always stops a funny little minute before it, just as she did to-day.