I prefer to
think, that your father was not quite himself all this summer. A man
like your father does not, in his right senses, find pleasure in the
society of an ignorant, common little girl. He does not make a
practise of keeping her at the office after hours, often until eight
o'clock, or take her to restaurants and to the theater with him;
not, at least, in a slanderous city like New York."

Harold flinched before McQuiston's meaning gaze and turned aside in
pained silence. He knew, as a dramatist, that there are dark
chapters in all men's lives, and this but too clearly explained why
his father had stayed in town all summer instead of joining his
family.

McQuiston asked if he should ring for Annie Wooley.

Harold drew himself up. "No. Why should I see her? I prefer not to.
But with your permission, Mr. McQuiston, I will take charge of this
request to my mother. It could only give her pain, and might awaken
doubts in her mind."

"We hardly know," murmured the senior partner, "where an
investigation would lead us. Technically, of course, I cannot agree
with you. But if, as one of the executors of the will, you wish to
assume personal responsibility for this bequest, under the
circumstances--irregularities beget irregularities."

"My first duty to my father," said Harold, "is to protect my
mother."

That afternoon McQuiston called Annie Wooley into his private office
and told her that her services would not be needed any longer, and
that in lieu of notice the clerk would give her two weeks' salary.

"Can I call up here for references?" Annie asked.

"Certainly. But you had better ask for me, personally. You must know
there has been some criticism of you here in the office, Miss
Wooley."

"What about?" Annie asked boldly.

"Well, a young girl like you cannot render so much personal service
to her employer as you did to Mr. Wanning without causing
unfavorable comment. To be blunt with you, for your own good, my
dear young lady, your services to your employer should terminate in
the office, and at the close of office hours. Mr. Wanning was a very
sick man and his judgment was at fault, but you should have known
what a girl in your station can do and what she cannot do."

The vague discomfort of months flashed up in little Annie. She had
no mind to stand by and be lectured without having a word to say for
herself.

"Of course he was sick, poor man!" she burst out. "Not as anybody
seemed much upset abo