how its'
done;--and then we can have a talk. I'll ... I'll tell you as much as I
can about everything you want to know. That do?"

"I can't stay long. I've left Pa in bed." She could not keep the note of
roughness from her pleading voice, although shame at being petulant was
struggling with her deeper feeling.

"Well, he won't want to get up again yet, will he?" Keith answered
composedly. Oh, he had nerves of steel! thought Jenny. "I mean, this
_is_ his bedtime, I suppose?" There was no answer. Jenny looked at the
tablecloth, numbed by her sensations. "Do you have to look after him all
the time? That's a bit rough..."

"No," was forced from Jenny. "No, I don't ... not generally. But
to-night--but that's a long story, too. With rows in it." Which made
Keith laugh. He laughed not quite naturally, forcing the last several
jerks of his laughter, so that she shuddered at the thought of his
possible contempt. It was as if everything she said was lost before
ever it reached his heart--as if the words were like weak blows against
an overwhelming strength. Discouragement followed and deepened after
every blow--every useless and baffled word. There was again silence,
while Jenny set her teeth, forcing back her bitterness and her chagrin,
trying to behave as usual, and to check the throbbing within her breast.
He was trying to charm her, teasingly to wheedle her back into kindness,
altogether misunderstanding her mood. He was guarded and considerate
when she wanted only passionate and abject abandonment of disguise.

"We'll toss up who shall begin first," Keith said in a jocular way.
"How's that for an idea?"

Jenny felt her lips tremble. Frantically she shook her head, compressing
the unruly lips. Only by keeping in the same position, by making herself
remain still, could she keep back the tears. Her thought went on, that
Keith was cruelly playing with her, mercilessly watching the effect of
his own coldness upon her too sensitive heart. Eh, but it was a lesson
to her! What brutes men could be, at this game! And that thought gave
her, presently, an unnatural composure. If he were cruel, she would
never show her wounds. She would sooner die. But her eyes, invisible to
him, were dark with reproach, and her face drawn with agony.

"Well, we'd better do _something_," she said, in a sharp voice; and rose
to her feet. "Where is it the things go?" Keith also rose, and Jenny
felt suddenly sick and faint at the relaxation of her se