ive hours later Beatrice was being dressed for the evening's frolic,
dipping into the bonbon box for a stray maple cream, and complaining
of her headache. At this juncture her father tiptoed clumsily into her
room and laid a white velvet jewel case on her dressing table,
standing back to watch her open it.

"You dear----" she began in stereotyped, high-pitched tones as
she pressed the spring. "You duck!" she added a trifle more
enthusiastically, viewing the bowknot of gems in the form of a
pin--a design of diamonds four inches wide with a centre stone of
pigeon's-blood ruby. "You couldn't have pleased me more"--trying it
against her dressing gown. "See, Jody, isn't this wonderful? I
must kiss you." She rustled over to her father and brushed her
lips across his cheek, rustling back again to tell Jody that she
must try the neck coil again--it was entirely too loose.

"I guess Steve can't go any better than that," her father said,
balancing himself on his toes and, in so doing, rumpling the rug.

He was a tall, heavily built man with harsh features and gray hair,
the numerous signs of a self-made man who is satisfied with his own
achievements. He had often told his sister: "Bea can be the lady of
the family. I'm willing to set back and pay for it. It'd never do for
me to start buying antiques or quoting poetry. I can wear a dress suit
without disgracing Bea, and make an after-dinner speech if they let me
talk about the stockyards. But when it comes to musicals and monocles
I ask to be counted out. I had to work too hard the first half of my
life to be able to play the last half of it. I wasn't born in cold
storage and baptized with cracked ice the way these rich men's sons
are. I've shown this city that a farmer's boy can own the best in the
layout and have his girl be the most gorgeous of the crew--barring
none!

"This is a joy," Beatrice was saying, rapidly, her small face wrinkled
with displeasure.

She wished her father would go away because she wanted to think of a
hundred details of the next forty-eight hours and her nerves were
giving warning that their limit of endurance was near at hand. This
big, awkward man who was so harsh a task-master to the world and so
abject a slave to her own useless little self annoyed her. He offended
in an even deeper sense--he did not interest her. Things which did not
interest her were met with grave displeasure. Religion did not
interest her; neither did Steve O'Valley's busin