But Theodora did come. Up in the dark in Cicely's room, they talked it all over, crying a little now and then, then rousing themselves to make brave plans for the future and for the meeting between Cicely and her father. His home-coming now must mean a return to anxiety and business care, and to the sharp mortification of finding the firm whose reputation had been made by his sagacity and skill, fallen into bankruptcy during his one short year of absence. "Oh, it was cruel for him to be ill," Cicely said forlornly. "They say it would never have come, if he had only been here to manage things. He couldn't help having pneumonia and going away; but I do wish they had left that out. It's like throwing the blame on him for something he couldn't help. He isn't the man to shirk things, Cousin Theodora." "They didn't mean that, dear," Theodora said gently. "They were only trying to show how much he had done in past years. You've no reason to be ashamed of your father, Cicely." "Ashamed of him!" Cicely's tone was hard and resonant, free from all suspicion of tears. "You don't know my father, Cousin Ted. He couldn't do anything, anything in the world, that would make me ashamed of him. He's not that kind of a man." Two days later, Gifford Barrett came to call. Cicely received him alone. She was pale; but a bright red spot burned in either cheek, as she offered him her hand. "Cousin Theodora is out, Mr. Barrett. I knew she wouldn't be here, and I asked you to come now on purpose, because I wanted to see you alone." She paused and restlessly pushed back her hair from her forehead. Then she went on rapidly, "Have you heard of papa's failure?" The young man's face showed his distress. "Yes, I have." His reply was almost inaudible. "I am very sorry." "Thank you," she said. "I knew you would be; but please don't say so, for it--I can't stand being pitied. You know what I mean." Brave as was her smile, it was appealing. "Now I want to talk business. Have you time for it?" "Of course. I wish I could be of some use," he said eagerly. He liked Cicely, and he was surprised at the sudden womanliness that had come into her manner. For the hour, they met, not as man and child, but on precisely equal terms. "It is going to take everything we have," she said hurriedly. "Papa will want to pay all he can, and it will leave us poor. I don't mean to have him do all the work; I must help what I can, and I've been wondering whether my music would be good for anything. I have taken lessons for years and from good teachers. Are you willing to hear me play, and to tell me honestly whether I could teach beginners?"