ped, lost in amazement at what she contemplated, what was to
follow.

"Then Nicholas----But that isn't important. I was to meet a man--we
were going away together, to some place where it would be peaceful. We
were to sail there. He said at eight o'clock. Well, at seven Nicholas
was in the kitchen. I got father into his very heaviest coat, and laid
out a muffler and his gloves, then sat and waited. I didn't need
anything extra, my heart was quite warm. Then father asked why I had
changed his coat--if I'd told him, he would have died of fright--he
said he was too hot, and he fretted and worried. Nicholas heard him,
and he wanted to know why I had put on father's winter coat. He found
the muffler and gloves ready and got suspicious.

"He stayed in the hall, crying a little--Nicholas cried right
often--while I sat with father and tried to think of some excuse to
get away. At last I had to go--for an orange, I said--but Nicholas
wouldn't believe it. He pushed me back and told me I was going out to
the other.

"'Nicholas,' I said, 'don't be silly; nobody would come away from a
boat on a night like this. Besides, he's gone away.' We had that last
made up. But he pushed me back again. Then I heard father move behind
us, and I thought--he's going to die of fright right now. But father's
footsteps came on across the floor and up to my side."

"'Don't do that, Nicholas,' he told him; 'take your hand from my
daughter.' He swayed a little, his lips shook, but he stood facing
him. It was father!" Her voice died away, and she was silent for a
moment, gazing at the vision of that unsuspected and surprising
courage. "Of course Nicholas killed him," she added. "He twisted him
away and father died. That didn't matter," she told Woolfolk; "but the
other was terribly important, anyone can see that."

John Woolfolk listened intently, but there was no sound from without.
Then, with every appearance of leisure, he rolled and lighted a
cigarette.

"Splendid!" he said of her recital; "and I don't doubt you're right
about the important thing." He moved toward her, holding out his hand.
"Splendid! But we must go on--the man is waiting for you."

"It's too late," she responded indifferently. She redirected her
thoughts to her parent's enthralling end. "Do you think a man as brave
as that should lie on the floor?" she demanded. "A flag," she added
obscurely, considering an appropriate covering for the still form.

"No, not on the floor," W