“Oh!” Fanny tossed her head, rose lightly on tiptoe and, swaying back and forth, started for the door. There she turned. “You forget I’ve had a birthday since I saw you last,” she said, haughtily. Douglas Briggs had begun to write again. “Did you? What was it--fourteen, fifteen--?” Fanny stiffened her fingers and held them before her eyes. “Ugh!” she exclaimed. As she started to open the door she was thrust rudely back. Someone had pushed the door from the other side. She turned quickly and met the astonished face of Guy Fullerton. “Fanny!” Guy cried, joyously. “When in the world did you get here?” Fanny held out both hands. Guy seized them and tried to draw her toward him. She stopped him with a warning gesture, and glanced at her uncle. “Go ahead,” said Douglas Briggs. “I’m not looking.” Guy and Fanny embraced silently. Fanny glanced at the shoulders bent over the table. “Thank you, sir,” she said, meekly. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Guy cried, reproachfully. “Because I thought I’d give you a surprise, sleepy-head.” Briggs turned on his swivel-chair. “I guess you two’d better go into the other room.” “Can’t I do anything for you, sir?” Guy asked. “The correspondence?” “No hurry about that. I’ll ring when I need you. Oh, Fanny, you might ask your aunt to look in here a moment. I want to speak to her.” “All right.” Fanny danced radiantly out of the room, followed by Guy. A moment later Briggs heard her call up the stairs: “Oh, auntie, Uncle Doug wants you.” He listened and heard his wife descending. The sound of her footsteps gave him a strange feeling of mingled pleasure and discomfort. He had begun to resent her treatment of him. “Good-morning,” he said, cheerfully, as she entered. He rose quickly and offered her a chair. “Did you wish to see me?” Helen asked, still standing. “Yes. There were one or two things I wanted to talk over. Won’t you sit down?” Helen took the seat. “Thank you,” she said. They had become very ceremonious. “How are the children this morning?” “I’ve just left them in the nursery. They are perfectly well.” “Hasn’t Miss Munroe taken them out yet?” Helen met his look. “Miss Munroe is leaving to-day,” she replied. “What?” he cried, astonished. “I told you several weeks ago that she was going to leave.” “But I didn’t think you’d--” Briggs turned away and rested his head on his hand, with his elbow on the table. “Will you be kind enough to tell me why you have sent Miss Munroe away?” he asked, in a tone that showed he was trying to control himself. “She’s been with the children ever since they were born. You can’t get anyone to fill her place.” “I sent her away because we couldn’t afford to keep her,” Helen replied. “What do you mean by _we_?” “Because _I_ couldn’t afford to keep her, then.”