her own room.

So that was what it all meant! All!--from the laugh of the Secamp girls
to the turning away of the townspeople as she went by. Her father was a
thief who had stolen money from the bank and run away leaving her alone
to bear it! No! It was all a lie--a wicked, jealous lie! A foolish lie,
for how could he steal money from HIS OWN bank? Cissy knew very little
of her father--perhaps that was why she believed in him; she knew still
less of business, but she knew that HE did. She had often heard them
say it--perhaps the very ones who now called him names. He! who had made
Canada City what it was! HE, who, Windibrook said, only to-day, had,
like Moses, touched the rocks of the Canada with his magic wand of
Finance, and streams of public credit and prosperity had gushed from
it! She would never speak to them again! She would shut herself up here,
dismiss all the servants but the Chinaman, and wait until her father
returned.

There was a knock, and the entreating voice of Norah, the cook, outside
the door. Cissy unlocked it and flung it open indignantly.

"Ah! It's yourself, miss--and I never knew ye kem back till I met that
gossoon of a hotel waiter in the street," said the panting servant.
"Sure it was only an hour ago while I was at me woorrck in the kitchen,
and Jim rushes in and sez: 'For the love of God, if iver ye want to see
a blessed cint of the money ye put in the masther's bank, off wid ye now
and draw it out--for there's a run on the bank!'"

"It was an infamous lie," said Cissy fiercely.

"Sure, miss, how was oi to know? And if the masther HAS gone away, it's
ownly takin' me money from the other divils down there that's drawin' it
out and dividin' it betwixt and between them."

Cissy had a very vague idea of what a "run on the bank" meant, but
Norah's logic seemed to satisfy her feminine reason. She softened a
little.

"Mr. Windibrook is in the parlor, miss, and a jintleman on the veranda,"
continued Norah, encouraged.

Cissy started. "I'll come down," she said briefly.

Mr. Windibrook was waiting beside the piano, with his soft hat in one
hand and a large white handkerchief in the other. He had confidently
expected to find Cissy in tears, and was ready with boisterous
condolement, but was a little taken aback as the young girl entered
with a pale face, straightened brows, and eyes that shone with audacious
rebellion. However, it was too late to change his attitude. "Ah, my
young friend,"