unexpected."

Garrison was puzzled. A certain uneasiness possessed him. He
proceeded quietly up the stairs, momentarily expecting Dorothy to
appear. But the house was silent. He reached the landing and turned
to look at Theodore, who waved him on to the room they had occupied
before.

When he entered he was not at all pleased to find the elder Robinson
only awaiting his advent. He halted just inside the threshold and
glanced inquiringly from father to son.

"How do you do?" he said stiffly. "Is Dorothy not at home?"

"She is not," said old Robinson, making no advance and giving no
greeting. "Will you please sit down?"

Garrison remained where he was.

"Do you expect her soon?" he inquired.

"We shall get along very well without her. We've got something to say
to you--alone."

Garrison said: "Indeed?"

He advanced to a chair and sat down.

"In the first place, perhaps you will tell us your actual name," said
old Robinson, himself taking a seat.

Garrison was annoyed.

"Let me assure you, once for all, that I do not in the least recognize
your right to meddle in my concerns, or subject me to any inquisitions."

"That's another way of saying you refuse to answer!" snapped Robinson
tartly. "You know your name isn't Fairfax, any more than it's mine.
Your name is Garrison."

Garrison stared at him coldly.

"You seem to have made up your mind very decidedly," he said. "Is that
all you have to say?"

"You don't deny it?" cried the old man, exasperated by his calmness.
"You don't dare deny it!"

Garrison grew calmer.

"I haven't the slightest reason to deny anything," he said. "I
frequently require a pseudonym. Dorothy knows that I employ the name
Garrison whenever occasion demands."

The old man was wild.

"Will you swear that your right name is Fairfax?" he said. "That's
what I demand to know!"

Garrison answered: "I came here to see my wife. I warn you I am
growing impatient with your hidden insinuations!"

"Your wife!" cried old Robinson, making a dive into one of his pockets
with his hand. "What have you to say to this letter, from the woman
who is doubtless by now your _legal_ wife?" Suddenly snatching a
letter from his coat, he projected himself toward Garrison and held up
the missive before him.

It was the letter from Ailsa--the one that Garrison had missed--the
letter in which she had agreed to become his wife. He put forth his
hand to receive it.

"No, you don't!" c