d head nodded.

"Oh! oh!" she gasped. She wavered, sank stricken into a chair, and
buried her face in her arms. "Poor father!" she moaned brokenly. "Poor
father!"

There was silence for a moment, then the old woman rose and gently put
a hand upon the quivering young shoulder.

"Don't, dear! Even if it did happen, I can't believe it. Thy
father----"

At that moment, overhead, there was a soft noise, as of feet placed
upon the floor. Katherine sprang up.

"Father!" she breathed. There began a restless, slippered pacing.
"Father!" she repeated, and sprang for the stairway and rapidly ran
up.

At her father's door she paused, hand over her heart. She feared to
enter to her father--feared lest she should find his head bowed in
acknowledged shame. But she summoned her strength and noiselessly
opened the door. It was a large room, a hybrid of bedroom and study,
whose drawn shades had dimmed the brilliant morning into twilight. An
open side door gave a glimpse of glass jars, bellying retorts and
other paraphernalia of the laboratory.

Walking down the room was a tall, stooping, white-haired figure in a
quilted dressing-gown. He reached the end of the room, turned about,
then sighted her in the doorway.

"Katherine!" he cried with quavering joy, and started toward her; but
he came abruptly to a pause, hesitating, accused man that he was, to
make advances.

Her sickening fear was for the instant swept away by a rising flood of
love. She sprang forward and threw her arms about his neck.

"Father!" she sobbed. "Oh, father!"

She felt his tears upon her forehead, felt his body quiver, and felt
his hand gently stroke her back.

"You've heard--then?" he asked, at length.

"Yes--from the papers."

He held her close, but for a moment did not speak.

"It isn't a--a very happy celebration--I've prepared for you."

She could only cry convulsively, "Poor father!"

"You never dreamt," he quavered, "your old father--could do a thing
like this--did you?"

She did not answer. She trembled a moment longer on his shoulder;
then, slowly and with fear, she lifted her head and gazed into his
face. The face was worn--she thrilled with pain to see how sadly worn
it was!--but though tear-wet and working with emotion, it met her look
with steadiness. It was the same simple, kindly, open face that she
had known since childhood.

There was a sudden wild leaping within her. She clutched his
shoulders, and her voice rang out in jo