ealized that she had not come any
too soon. For his shoulders were bent as from a great weight. His head
was bowed. His face was covered by his hands.

She went forward swiftly. When she was between the desk and the windows
she stopped, but did not speak. She kept her gray eyes on those
shielding hands.

Presently he sighed, straightened on his chair, and looked at her.

For one instant Gwendolyn did not move--though her heart beat so wildly
that it stirred the lace ruffles of her dressing-gown. Then, remembering
dancing instructions, she curtsied.

A smile softened the stern lines of her father's mouth. It traveled up
his cheeks in little ripples, and half shut his tired eyes. He put out a
hand.

"Why, hello, daughter," he said wearily, but fondly.

She felt an almost uncontrollable desire to throw out her arms to him,
to clasp his neck, to cry, "Oh, daddy! daddy! I don't want them to hurt
you!" But she conquered it, her underlip in her teeth, and put a small
hand in his outstretched one gravely.

"I--I heard the man calling," she began timidly. "And I--I thought maybe
the bears down in your street--"

"Ah, the bears!" He gave a bitter laugh.

So Miss Royle had told the truth! The hand in his tightened its hold.
"Have the bears ever frightened _you?_" she asked, her voice trembling.

He did not answer at once, but put his head on one side and looked at
her--for a full half-minute. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said; "yes,
dear,--once or twice."

She had planned to spy out at least a strap of the harness he wore; to
examine closely what sort of candles, if any, he burned in the seclusion
of the library. Now she forgot to do either; could not have seen if she
had tried. For her eyes were swimming, blinding her.

She swayed nearer him. "If--if you'd take Thomas along on your car," she
suggested chokingly. "He hunted el'phunts once, and--and _I_ don't need
him."

Her father rose. He was not looking at her--but away, beyond the bowed
windows, though the shades of these were drawn, the hangings were in
place. And, "No!" he said hoarsely; "not yet! I'm not through fighting
them _yet!_"

"Daddy!" Fear for him wrung the cry from her.

His eyes fell to her upturned face. And as if he saw the terror there,
he knelt, suddenly all concern. "Who told you about the bears,
Gwendolyn?"--with a note of displeasure.

"Miss Royle."

"That was wrong--she shouldn't have done it. There are things a little
girl can't unders