nt her with a message; he himself
followed the old woman up the stairs, and stood waiting in the upper
hall as she knocked at Margaret's closed door.

But the door did not open; in answer to Rose's message delivered shrilly
outside the door, Margaret replied from within, "I can see no one at
present."

Rose came back. "She can't see nobody nohow jess _dis_ minute, marse,"
she answered, in an apologetic tone. Then, imaginatively, "Spec she's
tired."

"Go back and tell her that I'm waiting here--in the hall, and that I
will keep her but a moment. There is something important I must say."

Rose returned to the door. But the answer was the same. "She done got
_mighty_ tired, marse, sho," said the old servant, again trying to
clothe the refusal in polite terms, though unable to think of a new
apology.

"Her door is locked, I suppose?" Winthrop asked. Then he felt that this
was going too far; he turned and went down the stairs, but with a
momentary revival in his breast all the same of the old despotic
feeling, the masculine feeling, that a woman should not be allowed to
dictate to a man what he should say or not say, do or not do; in
refusing to see him even for one moment, Margaret was dictating.

He walked down the lower hall, and then back again. Happening to glance
up, he saw that old Rose was still standing at the top of the stairs;
she dropped one of her straight courtesies as he looked up--a quick
ducking down of her narrow skirt; she was much disturbed by the direct
refusal which she had had to give him.

"I can't stay here, if they are going to watch me," he thought,
impatiently. He turned and re-entered the sitting-room.

Mr. Moore was putting more wood on the fire. His mind was full of
Margaret and her troubles; but the fire certainly needed replenishing,
it would do no one any good to come back to a cold room, Mrs. Harold
least of all; Winthrop therefore found him engaged with the coals.

Mr. Moore went on with his engineering feats. He cherished no resentment
because Winthrop had left him so suddenly. Still, he had observed that
such sudden exits were sometimes an indication of temper; in such cases
there was nothing better than an unnoticing, and if possible an
occupied, silence; so he went on with his fire.

"It's most unfortunate that there's no one who has any real authority
over her," Winthrop began, still smarting under the refusal. Margaret
had chosen the clergyman as her counsellor; it would