ctoria, "and Simpson will take care
that he doesn't lose it." The unexpected necessity of defending one of
her proteges aroused her. "I've made it a point to see Eben every day for
the last three months, and he hasn't touched a drop. He's one of the best
workers we have on the place."

"I've got too much on my mind to put up with that kind of thing," said
Mr. Flint, "and I won't be worried here on the place. I can get capable
men to tend cattle, at least. I have to put up with political rascals who
rob and deceive me as soon as my back is turned, I have to put up with
inefficiency and senility, but I won't have it at home."

"Fitch will be transferred to the gardener if you think best," she said.

It suddenly occurred to Victoria, in the light of a new discovery, that
in the past her father's irritability had not extended to her. And this
discovery, she knew, ought to have some significance, but she felt
unaccountably indifferent to it. Mr. Flint walked to a window at the far
end of the room and flung apart the tightly closed curtains before it.

"I never can get used to this new-fangled way of shutting everything up
tight," he declared. "When I lived in Centre Street, I used to read with
the curtains up every night, and nobody ever shot me." He stood looking
out at the starlight for awhile, and turned and faced her again.

"I haven't seen much of you this summer, Victoria," he remarked.

"I'm sorry, father. You know I always like to walk with you every day you
are here." He had aroused her sufficiently to have a distinct sense that
this was not the time to refer to the warning she had given him that he
was working too hard. But he was evidently bent on putting this
construction on her answer.

"Several times I have asked for you, and you have been away," he said.

"If you had only let me know, I should have made it a point to be at
home."

"How can I tell when these idiots will give me any rest?" he asked. He
crushed the telegrams again, and came down the room and stopped in front
of her. "Perhaps there has been a particular reason why you have not been
at home as much as usual."

"A particular reason?" she repeated, in genuine surprise.

"Yes," he said; "I have been hearing things which, to put it mildly, have
astonished me."

"Hearing things?"

"Yes," he exclaimed. "I may be busy, I may be harassed by tricksters and
bunglers, but I am not too busy not to care something about my daughter's
doings. I exp