her father
ordered Curtis from the door, but now she could not even attempt to
justify his anger, and the tears glistened on her lashes as she said:
"Father, why can't you accept Captain Curtis's hand? These ragamuffin
redmen aren't worth quarrelling about. No one ever went away from us
like this, and it breaks my heart to have it so. Don't go, Captain
Curtis. Father, ask his pardon."

The old man turned towards her. "Go to your room. I will see that this
young squirt finds the door!"

Elsie shrank from the glare of his eyes. "Father, you are brutal! You
hurt me."

"Do as I say!" he snarled.

"I will _not_!" She faced him, tall and resolute. "I am not a child. I
am the mistress of this house." She turned and walked towards the door.
"Captain Curtis, I beg _your_ pardon; my father has forgotten himself."

Brisbane took a step towards Curtis. "Get out! And you, girl, leave the
room."

The girl's face whitened. "Have you no sense of decency?" she said, and
her voice cut deep down into his heart and he flinched. "Captain Curtis
is my guest as well as yours." She extended her hand. "Please go! It is
best."

"It is the most miserable moment of my life," he replied, as they moved
down the hall, leaving Brisbane at the door of the study. "I will do any
honorable thing to regain your good-will."

"You have not lost it," she replied. "I cannot blame you--as I should,"
she added, and the look on her face mystified him.

"May I see you again before I leave for the West?"

"Perhaps," she softly replied. "Remember he is old--and--"

"I will try not to bear anger," he replied.

And as he turned away it seemed that she had leagued herself with him
against her own father, and this feeling deepened as she ran up the
stairs heedless of the voice whose commands had hitherto been law to
her.

The young officer walked down the sunny avenue towards the White House
with a curious feeling of having just passed through a bitter and
degrading dream. He was numb and cold. Around him the little negro
newsboys were calling the one-o'clock editions of the "_Styah_," and the
pavements were swarming with public servants hastening to lunch,
punctual as clocks, while he, having been ordered from the house of his
host, was mechanically returning to his club.

There was something piercingly pathetic in the thought of the good cheer
he had anticipated, and the lost pleasure of sitting opposite Elsie
made his heart ache. At the moment his