say."

Gwendolyn struck a spiritless chord.

Miss Brown gone, Gwendolyn sought the long window-seat and curled up
among its cushions--at the side which commanded the best view of the
General. Straight before that martial figure, on the bridle-path, a man
with a dump-cart and a shaggy-footed horse was picking up leaves. He
used a shovel. And each time he raised it to shoulder-height and emptied
it into his cart, a few of the leaves went whirling away out of
reach--like frightened butterflies. But she had no time to pretend
anything of the kind. A new and a better plan!--this was what she must
prepare. For--heart beating, hands trembling from haste--she had _tried_
the telephone--_and found it dead to every Hello!_

But she was not discouraged. She was only balked.

The talking bird, the bee her mother kept in a bonnet, her father's
harness, and the candles that burned at both ends--if she had _only_
known about them that evening of her seventh anniversary! Ignoring Miss
Royle's oft-repeated lesson that "Nice little girls do not ask
questions," or "worry father and mother," how easy it would have been to
say, "Fath-er, what little bird tells things about you?" and, "Moth-er,
have you _really_ got a bee in your bonnet?"

But--the questions could still be asked. She was balked only
temporarily.

She got down and crossed the room to the white-and-gold writing-desk.
Two photographs in silver frames stood upon it, flanking the
rose-embossed calendar at either side. She took them down, one at a
time, and looked at them earnestly.

The first was of her mother, taken long, long ago, before Gwendolyn was
born. The oval face was delicately lovely and girlish. The mouth curved
in a smile that was tender and sweet.

The second photograph showed a clean-shaven, boyish young man in a
rough business-suit--this was her father, when he first came to the
city. His lips were set together firmly, almost determinedly. But his
face was unlined, his dark eyes were full of laughter.

Despite all the well-remembered commands Miss Royle had issued; despite
Jane's oft-repeated threats and Thomas's warnings, [and putting aside,
too, any thought of what punishment might follow her daring] Gwendolyn
now made a firm resolution: _To see at least one of her parents
immediately and alone_.

As she set the photographs back in their places, she lifted each to kiss
it. She kissed the smiling lips of the one, the laughing eyes of the
other.