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r. Patten said, "you can't go very far the way you are. Now be a good fellow, and let's get this thing done. It's for your good as well as mine. You'll make a Fortune out of it." Then he went into his own door, and soon came out, looking like a gentleman, unless one knew, as I did, that he was a Whited Sepulcher. How long I sat there, paralized with emotion, I do not know. Hannah came out and roused me from my Trance of grief. She is a kindly soul, although to afraid of mother to be helpful. "Come in like a good girl, Miss Bab," she said. "There's that fruit salad that cook prides herself on, and I'll ask her to brown a bit of sweetbread for you." "Hannah," I said in a low voice, "there is a Crime being committed in this neighborhood, and you talk to me of food." "Good gracious, Miss Bab!" "I cannot tell you any more than that, Hannah," I said gently, "because it is only being done now, and I cannot make up my Mind about it. But of course I do not want any food." As I say, I was perfectly gentle with her, and I do not understand why she burst into tears and went away. I sat and thought it all over. I could not leave, under the circumstances. But yet, what was I to do? It was hardly a Police matter, being between friends, as one may say, and yet I simply could not bare to leave my Ideal there in that damp bath-house without either food or, as one may say, raiment. About the middle of the afternoon it occurred to me to try to find a key for the lock of the bath-house. I therfore left my Studio and proceded to the house. I passed close by the fatal building, but there was no sound from it. I found a number of trunk-keys in a drawer in the library, and was about to escape with them, when father came in. He gave me a long look, and said: "Bee still buzzing?" I had hoped for some understanding from him, but my Spirits fell at this speach. "I am still working, father," I said, in a firm if nervous tone. "I am not doing as good work as I would if things were diferent, but--I am at least content, if not happy." He stared at me, and then came over to me. "Put out your tongue," he said. Even against this crowning infamey I was silent. "That's all right," he said. "Now see here, Chicken, get into your riding togs and we'll order the horses. I don't intend to let this play-acting upset your health." But I refused. "Unless, of course, you insist," I finished. He only shook his head, however,
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