“You have surely something else to say at the mention of her name than that. Oh, papa, she has done very, very wrong, but she is so sorry--she would like to fling herself at your feet.” “She had better not do that; I should kick her away like a football,” he said. “You could never be cruel to Stella--your little Stella! You always loved her the best of us two. I never came near her in one way nor another.” “That is true enough,” said the old man. Katherine did not expect any better, but this calm daunted her. Even Stella’s absence did not advance her in any way; she still occupied the same place, whatever happened. It was with difficulty that she resumed her questions. “And you will miss her dreadfully, papa. Only think, those long nights that are coming--how you will miss her with her songs and her chatter and her brightness! I am only a dull companion,” said Katherine, perhaps a little, though not very reasonably, hoping to be contradicted. “You are that,” said her father calmly. What was she to say? She felt crushed down by this disapproval, the calm recognition that she was nobody, and that all her efforts to be agreeable could never meet with any response. She did make many efforts, far more than ever Stella had done. Stella had never taken any trouble; her father’s comfort had in reality been of very little importance to her. She had pleased him because she was Stella, just as Katherine, because she was Katherine, did not please him. And what was there more to be said? It is hard upon the unpleasing one, the one who never gives satisfaction, but the fact remains. “You are very plain spoken,” said Katherine, trying to find a little forlorn fun in the situation. “You don’t take much pains to spare my feelings. Still, allowing that to be all true, and I don’t doubt it for a moment, think how dull you will be in the evenings, papa! You will want Stella a hundred times in an hour, you will always want her. This winter, of course, they could not come back; but before another winter, oh, papa, think for your own advantage--do say that you will forgive her, and that they may come back!” “We may all be dead and gone before another winter,” Mr. Tredgold said. “That is true; but then, on the other hand, we may all be living and very dull and in great, great need of something to cheer us up. Do hold out the hope, papa, that you will forgive her, and send for her, and have her back!” “What is she to give you for standing up for her like this?” said the old man with his grim chuckling laugh. “To give--me?” Katherine was so astonished this time that she could not think of any answer. “Because you needn’t lose your breath,” said her father, “for you’ll lose whatever she has promised you. I’ve only one word to say about her, and that I’ve said too often already to please you--God damn her,” her father said.