“You keep this to yourself; do you hear? Don’t you mention it again.” “Oh, I shan’t--I shan’t. But--” “You had better not.... There, that’ll do. Clear out! I’ve wasted time enough.” Mr. Clark was disappointed. He had expected thanks, at least, possibly more substantial reward. Nevertheless, it was some comfort to know that he and the Harniss magnate shared a secret in common. His self-respect, to which Reliance had so slightingly referred, was bolstered by that knowledge. CHAPTER VIII Esther was late in returning home that afternoon. The portrait at last was finished. Even Bob was reluctantly obliged to admit that it was as nearly perfect as he could make it, and his Wapatomac friend had seen it and approved. The final sitting was a long one, however, and it was nearly supper time when she hurried up the path to the side door of the mansion. Her uncle was in the library and, although he looked up from his paper and nodded when she entered, it seemed to her that his greeting was not as hearty as usual. And during supper he spoke scarcely a word. Her by no means easy conscience made her apprehensive and when, after the meal was over, he bade her come into the parlor, she followed him fearfully. Something was going to happen, she did not dare guess what. He closed the door behind him. “Sit down, Esther,” he ordered. She did so. He remained standing. He took a turn or two up and down the room and then swung about and faced her, his hands in his trouser pockets. “Where did you go this afternoon?” he asked, bluntly, his eyes fixed upon her face. She started, colored, and caught her breath with a gasp. “This afternoon?” she faltered. “Why--why, I don’t know. I--” “Come, come!” impatiently. “That’s foolishness. Of course you know. Where did you go when you left here, after dinner?” She did not answer. His shaggy brows drew together. “I don’t wonder you don’t want to tell me,” he snapped. “You needn’t. It isn’t necessary. I know where you were. You were down in that fish shanty of Eldridge’s and that young Griffin was with you. That is so, isn’t it?” She was pale, but she no longer hesitated. Her reply was promptly given. “Yes,” she said. He nodded, grimly. “I’m glad you don’t lie about it, at any rate,” he said. “And you have been going there for a fortnight, haven’t you?” “No. Not for a fortnight. I have been there five times altogether.” “Humph! Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to? Did you think I wouldn’t be interested?” “No.” “Then why did you keep it to yourself?” She met his look with one as steady. “Because--well, because he was painting my picture--a portrait of me--and I--we didn’t want you to know about it until it was finished.” “Is that so!” sarcastically. “Well, well! Did you intend to tell me when it was finished?” “Of course.” “Humph!... I wonder.” Her eyes were beginning to flash. “You needn’t wonder,” she said. “I am not lying.”