mine struck home," she declared to him in triumph.

"I wouldn't have done it," her father said. "I gave you that remark of
Baird's in strict confidence, Edith--"

"Now father," was her good-humored retort, "suppose you leave this matter
to me. I know just what I'm doing."

"Well," he reflected uneasily, after she had left him, "here's more trouble
in the family. If Edith isn't careful she'll make a fine mess of this whole
affair."

After dinner he went up to Deborah's room, but through the open doorway he
caught a glimpse of his daughter which made him instinctively draw back.
Sitting bolt upright in her bed, sternly she was eyeing herself in a small
mirror in her hand. Her father chuckled noiselessly. A moment later, when
he went in, the glass had disappeared from view. Soon afterwards Baird
himself arrived, and as they heard him coming upstairs Roger saw his
daughter frown, but she continued talking.

"Hello, Allan," she said with indifference. "I'm feeling much better this
evening."

"Are you? Good," he answered, and he started to pull up an easy chair. "I
was hoping I could stay awhile--I've been having one of those long mean
days--"

"I'd a little rather you wouldn't," Deborah put in softly. Allan turned to
her in surprise. "I didn't sleep last night," she murmured, "and I feel so
drowsy." There was a little silence. "And I really don't think there's any
need of your dropping in to-morrow," she added. "I'm so much
better--honestly."

Baird looked at her a moment.

"Right--O," he answered slowly. "I'll call up to-morrow night."

Roger followed him downstairs.

"Come into my den and smoke a cigar!" he proposed in hearty ringing tones.
Allan thanked him and came in, but the puzzled expression was still on his
face, and through the first moments of their talk he was very
absent-minded. Roger's feeling of guilt increased, and he cursed himself
for a meddlesome fool.

"Look here, Baird," he blurted out, "there's something I think you ought to
know." Allan slightly turned his head, and Roger reddened a little. "The
worst thing about living in a house chock full of meddling women is that
you get to be one yourself," he growled. "And the fact is--" he cleared his
throat--"I've put my foot in it, Baird," he said. "I was fool enough the
other day to quote you to Edith."

"To what effect?"

"That if Deborah keeps on like this she'll be an old woman at thirty-five."

Allan sat up in his chair:

"Was Edith