Jermyn hurried toward the hotel, determined to take whatever misfortune might come to him, rather than be annoyed by more accidents. As to Trixy--Jermyn had always liked children, and years before, he had made a reputation on a western bound train, and afterward in the service, by caring all night for a fretful child so that the infant's mother might get some needed rest. He wished he might have charge of Trixy for a few days; she was Trif's child, and Trif was to him the ideal woman, and it was impossible that the child should not have inherited some of her mother's estimable qualities; but if Trixy had been making new and unexpected trouble for him, he wished there might be excuse for putting her into the most remote casemate of the fort, locking the door, and losing the key. As he thought and fretted, he entered the hotel and made his way through office and parlor toward the ball-room, where every one who did not dance congregated to look at every one who did. He nodded to several acquaintances, but his thoughts were entirely about Trixy until he was recalled to better command of himself by the sound of a well-remembered voice: "Oh, Mr. Jermyn! What an unexpected pleasure! We were told that you would be away several days." "I am glad to say that I am not so unfortunate," Jermyn replied. "Hello, Mr. Jermyn," piped a small voice from somewhere behind Miss Trewman, and then the young man saw Trixy, looking as innocent and confiding as if nothing whatever had happened which could trouble her mind or her conscience. "Trixy!" exclaimed Jermyn, advancing menacingly upon the child. "I met your father yesterday, and he told me to give you a thorough shaking for him"--here he picked up the child and acted according to Phil's orders--"and," he continued, "I suppose he would have sent you a kiss also if I hadn't left him in haste, so I'll give you one on suspicion." "That is a very interesting child," said Kate, as Trixy hurried away to find her mother and aunt and report Jermyn's return, "but I do think she can make more trouble than any other child I ever heard of." "Such offences must be condoned, I suppose," replied Jermyn, too happily surprised by his reception to harbor ill-will against any one. "What a forgiving mood--for a soldier!" said Kate, who imagined Jermyn knew something of the mystery she was trying to fathom. "Soldiers are often compelled to learn that those who do most harm mean least," Jermyn replied. "But what has the child been doing since I went away?" "I've not the slightest idea. Perhaps she has done nothing, but she has excited my curiosity greatly, through some references to myself." Then Kate looked enquiringly into Jermyn's eyes, and the young man was so delighted to be looked at by her in any way that he met her gaze unflinchingly, although respectfully, and finally overcame it, and Kate, wishing to change the subject of conversation, murmured something about the heat of the room.