hole lot. There's
your friend, Genevieve. Better go after her, hadn't you? Good-bye.' And
he was gone, walking swiftly through the crowd about the bandstand.

Katie went back to Genevieve, and Genevieve was simply horrid. Cold and
haughty, a beautiful iceberg of dudgeon, she refused to speak a single
word during the whole long journey back to Sixth Avenue. And Katie,
whose tender heart would at other times have been tortured by this
hostility, leant back in her seat, and was happy. Her mind was far away
from Genevieve's frozen gloom, living over again the wonderful
happenings of the afternoon.

Yes, it had been a wonderful afternoon, but trouble was waiting for her
in Sixth Avenue. Trouble was never absent for very long from Katie's
unselfish life. Arriving at the little bookshop, she found Mr Murdoch,
the glazier, preparing for departure. Mr Murdoch came in on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Fridays to play draughts with her grandfather, who was
paralysed from the waist, and unable to leave the house except when
Katie took him for his outing in Washington Square each morning in his
bath-chair.

Mr Murdoch welcomed Katie with joy.

'I was wondering whenever you would come back, Katie. I'm afraid the
old man's a little upset.'

'Not ill?'

'Not ill. Upset. And it was my fault, too. Thinking he'd be interested,
I read him a piece from the paper where I seen about these English
Suffragettes, and he just went up in the air. I guess he'll be all
right now you've come back. I was a fool to read it, I reckon. I kind
of forgot for the moment.'

'Please don't worry yourself about it, Mr Murdoch. He'll be all right
soon. I'll go to him.'

In the inner room the old man was sitting. His face was flushed, and he
gesticulated from time to time.

'I won't have it,' he cried as Katie entered. 'I tell you I won't have
it. If Parliament can't do anything, I'll send Parliament about its
business.'

'Here I am, grandpapa,' said Katie quickly. 'I've had the greatest
time. It was lovely up there. I--'

'I tell you it's got to stop. I've spoken about it before. I won't have
it.'

'I expect they're doing their best. It's your being so far away that
makes it hard for them. But I do think you might write them a very
sharp letter.'

'I will. I will. Get out the paper. Are you ready?' He stopped, and
looked piteously at Katie. 'I don't know what to say. I don't know how
to begin.'

Katie scribbled a few lines.

'How would this do?