"Father, I haven't been to a dance or a supper since you were injured. You know that," pouted Lorna. "What do you want to do, Mary dear?" asked the old man, helplessly. "It's very kind of Mr. Baxter, but you know we have a guest." Mary quietly sat down, while Lorna's temper flared. "Well, I'm going anyway. I'm tired of working and worrying. I want to have pleasure and music and entertainment like thousands of other girls in New York. I owe it to myself. I don't intend to sit around here and talk about tenement fires and silly old patents." Burke was embarrassed, but not so the visiting fashion plates. Baxter and Craig merely smiled at each other with studied nonchalance; they seemed used to such scenes, thought Bobbie. Lorna flounced angrily from the room, while her father wiped his forehead with a trembling hand. "Why, Lorna," he expostulated weakly. But Lorna reappeared with a pretty evening wrap and her hat in her hand. She donned the hat, twisting it to a coquettish angle, and Baxter unctuously assisted her to place the wrap about her shoulders. "Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary. But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically. "Good-_night_!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word. Mary's face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to comfort her in his quiet way. "I wouldn't worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are all right, and will look after her--you know, some people do think a whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don't blame her, for I'm poor company--and only a policeman, after all." John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after the trio. "You do think it's all right, don't you, Burke?" "Why, certainly," said Burke. He lied like a gentleman and a soldier. Old Barton was ill at ease, although he endeavored to cover his anxiety with his usual optimism. "We are too hard on the youngsters, I fear," he began. "It's true that Lorna has not had very much pleasure since I was injured. The poor child has had many sleepless nights of worry since then, as well. You know she has always been our baby, while my Mary here has been the little mother since my dear wife left us."