"Why has she hidden it? What has been her purpose?" she inquired, with a sudden sharpness in her tone that struck him directly, but he answered her carelessly. "Oh, I don't know; some girlish nonsense or other, nothing at all to her discredit, rather the otherwise." But he said no word about the loan. It was no business of Dora's; it was a matter simply between themselves, so he told himself. But Dora's cheek had paled visibly. "I thought you hated money and heiresses," she said at last, very slowly, and looking him full in the face. Garth flushed uneasily, the inference was too obvious. "Did I say a word about hating or the reverse, Dora?" he asked, in some displeasure. In his vexation he had called her Dora. "I feared you had made up your mind never to call me that again," she said, looking at him very gently. "I have thought since," hesitating and dropping her eyes, "that I was wrong and foolish in what I said to you that night, and you were perfectly right in being angry with me. Couldn't you--haven't you forgiven me yet, Mr. Garth?" Then he jumped up from his seat, and his face was full of pain. She was still his old friend and playmate, and how was he to misunderstand her? Was it forgiveness only for which she was asking, or was it a tacit permission for a renewal of his attentions? Either way, he must set things right between them now and for ever, for her sake, for his, and for Queenie's. "Why are you so hard to me?" she asked again, and her blue eyes were still misty. "Dora, my dear girl," he said, and there was a certain warmth and affection in his tone, "I am not hard with you, and I have forgiven you with all my heart. Perhaps I was a little angry with you once, men are such touchy creatures; but you did a very kind and wise thing for us both that night, and I thank you for it most truly, for you have saved us both, Dora, from a very great mistake." And then he walked away from her, and took up his position by the fireplace. Dora's pale cheeks were flaming now, but she made no attempt to answer him. "I thought you were never coming, papa," she said petulantly, when her father and Flo at that moment entered the room. When Beatrix returned from her sojourn in the cold school-room she had a rebuke ready for her tardiness. "I do not know what Mr. Clayton will think of such manners," she said rather severely; but Beatrix only shrugged her shoulders and exchanged a droll glance with Flo. "I am nearly starved with cold, and I should like some tea, Dorrie," she said very good-humoredly. "I cannot have you sit in that cold school-room, my dear," observed her father; "there was my study, or Dora's writing-table in the front drawing-room, why could you not use that?" "Never mind, this cup of tea will warm me," returned Beatrix, hugging herself and shivering. Garth stirred the fire unasked, and brought her a low chair, and made her have a second cup of tea, waiting on her himself.