"And you have invited him to my house?" "He has been here." Mr. Payson rose and shook his eye-glasses at her. "I must positively forbid that!" he exclaimed. "I won’t have you receiving that fellow here. From what I hear of him he’s a fakir, and I won’t encourage him in his attempts to get into society at my expense." "Do you mean to say that you forbid him the house, father? Isn’t that a bit melodramatic? I wouldn’t make a scene about it. I am twenty-seven and I’m not absolutely a fool. I think you can trust me." "Then what have you been doing with him? What does it all mean, anyway?" "As soon as I know what it means, I’ll tell you. At present, I think we had better not discuss Mr. Granthope." He blustered for a while longer, iterating his reproaches, then simmered down into a morose condition, which lasted through dinner. Clytie knew better than to discuss the subject with him. Her calmness had returned, though she kept her color and did not talk. The two went into the library and read. Shortly after eight o’clock the door-bell rang. As it was not answered promptly, Mr. Payson, still nervous, irascible and impatient, went out into the hall, growling at the servant’s delay. He opened the door, to see Francis Granthope, rather white-faced under his black hair, supporting himself on crutches. "Is Miss Payson at home?" he asked, taking off his hat. "Yes, she is. Won’t you step in? What name shall I give her, please?" Mr. Payson spoke hospitably. "Thank you. Mr. Granthope," was the answer. The old man turned suddenly and returned his visitor’s hat. "I beg your pardon," he said sternly, "but Miss Payson is not at home—for you—and I don’t intend that she ever shall be. I have heard enough about you, Mr. Granthope, and I desire to say that I can not consent to your being received in my house. You’re a charlatan and a fakir, sir, and I do not consider you either my daughter’s social equal nor one with a character respectable enough to associate with her. I must ask you to leave this house, sir, and not to come again." Granthope’s eyes glowed, and his jaws came together with determination. But he said only: "Very well, Mr. Payson, I’m sure that I do not care to call if I’m not welcome. This is, of course, no place to discuss the subject, but I shall not come here again without your consent. As to my meeting her again, that lies wholly with her. You may be sure that I shall not annoy her with my attentions if she doesn’t care to see me. But I ask you, as a matter of courtesy, to let Miss Payson know that I have called." "See that you keep your word, sir—that’s all I have to say," was Mr. Payson’s reply, and he stood in the doorway to watch his visitor down the garden walk. He remained there until Granthope had descended the steps, then walked down after him and watched him to the corner. Mr. Payson returned to the library sullenly.