"What has happened to papa?" demanded Charlotte, in a shrill voice, and it was again as if she were unconsciously accusing Anderson. When a heart becomes confident of love, it is filled with wonder at any evil mischance permitted, and accuses love, even the love of God. "What has happened to papa? Where is he?" she demanded again. And it was then that Mrs. Anderson, unseen by either of them, stood in the doorway with an enormous purple-flowered wrapper surging over her nightgown. "Hush, dear!" whispered Anderson. "I am sure nothing has happened." "Why are you sure?" "If anything had happened I should have heard of it. I came out on the last train myself. If there had been an accident I should certainly have heard." "Would you?" "I surely should have. Don't, dear. Your father has just been detained by business." "Then why didn't papa telegraph?" "He did not get it in the office in season. The office closes at half-past eight," said Anderson, lying cheerfully. "Does it?" "Of course! There is nothing for you to worry about. Now I'll tell you what we will do. My mother is awake. I will speak to her, and you must go straight to bed, and go to sleep, and in the morning your father will be along on the first train. He must have been as much worried as you." "Poor papa," said Charlotte. "So you were all alone in the house, and you came down here all alone at this time," said Anderson, in a tone which his mother had never heard. But it was then that she spoke. "Didn't her father come home?" she asked. When the girl turned like a flash and saw her she seemed to realize for the first time that she had been, and was, doing something out of the wonted. A great, burning blush surged all over her. She shrank away from the man who held her. She cowered before the other woman. "No, papa didn't come," she stammered, "and--I didn't know what to do, and I came here."