“That's just what I was going to do.” And she hurried up the back stairs, unbuttoning buttons as she went. Presently, in her night-dress and able to breathe naturally again, she felt safer. But she decided she'd better crawl into bed. She lay there, listening. It must have been a half-hour later when she heard a cab stop in front of the house, and then the slam of the front door and the sound of father's voice. He had just come in on the 9:23--THAT hadn't been him, after all! As relief stole over her, drowsiness tugged at her eyelids. But, just as she was dozing off, she was roused by someone's entering the room, bending over her. “Asleep?” It was father! Her first sensation was of fear, until she realized his tone was not one to be feared. And, responding to that tenderness of tone, sharp compunctions pricked her. Dear father!--it was horrible to have to deceive him. “I've brought you a little present from town.” He was lighting the gas. “Here!” Her blinking eyes saw him place a big flat box on the bed. She fumbled at the cords, accepted his proffered pen-knife, and then--oh, dear heaven! There, fluffy, snow-white and alluring, reposed a set of white fox furs! “S-sh!” he admonished, smiling. “Mother doesn't know about them yet.” “Oh, father!” She couldn't say any more. And the father, smiling at her, thought he understood the emotions which tied her tongue, which underlay her fervent good night kiss. But he could never have guessed all the love, gratitude, repentance, self-abasement and high resolves at that moment welling within her. He left her sitting up there in bed, her fingers still caressing the silky treasure. As soon as he was gone, she climbed out of bed to kneel in repentant humility. “Dear Jesus,” she prayed, “please forgive me for deceiving my dear father and mother. If you'll forgive me just this once, I promise never, never to deceive them again.” Then, feeling better--prayer, when there is real faith, does lift a load amazingly--she climbed back into bed, with the furs on her pillow. But she could not sleep. That was natural--so much had happened, and everything seemed so complicated. Everything had been seeming to go against her and here, all of a sudden, everything had turned out her way. She had her white fox furs, much prettier than Genevieve Hicks's--oh, she DID hope they'd let her go to church next Sunday night so she could wear them! And she'd had a serious little talk with Arthur--the way seemed paved for her to exert a really satisfactory influence over him. As soon as she could see him again--Oh, she wished she might wear the furs to the Library to-morrow night! She wished Arthur could see her in them--