ore his eyes.

"Now, listen, father," she said, puckering up her forehead prettily.
"Now I am going to be very serious. There are two very good reasons
why we will go. First, now that Jean is able to be up again, a sea
trip is the one thing above all others that he needs. Doctor Maurier
prescribes it."

"Insists on it, I suppose!" observed Henry Bliss dryly.

"He will," said Myrna, laughing, "if I ask him to."

"H'm!" commented Henry Bliss, the wrinkles around his eyes beginning to
nest into a smile. "Well--and the other reason?"

"The other one," said Myrna, and laid her head down against her
father's cheek; "the other one is--I must whisper it--now, listen--is
because I've set my heart on it, and I want to go."

"Which settles it!" groaned Henry Bliss, with mock lugubriousness.
"Well"--he got up from his chair, and brushed vigorously at the cigar
ash which, incident to Myrna's embrace, bedecked his waistcoat--"well,
I'll see what Jean says about it."

"Why, of course!" agreed Myrna innocently. "It all depends upon Jean.
We'll leave it that way, father."

Henry Bliss looked at her, gasped once--and grinned in spite of himself.

"There isn't any other trifling matter you'd like to call my attention
to this evening, is there?" he hazarded, pinching his daughter's cheek
playfully. "Because, if there is, I'm--" He paused, as a footman
coughed discreetly from the doorway. "Well?" he demanded.

"It is Monsieur le Cure, Monsieur Bliss," said the man.

"Show him in," instructed Henry Bliss--and, as the man retired, glanced
quickly at his daughter. "I hope, Myrna, that--"

"That we've made up our differences!" she supplied, with sudden
impatience. "That I quite understand that the gentle old soul in an
endeavour to set the world right meant well, and was actuated by the
loftiest of motives! Oh, yes, I think Father Anton and I understand
each other perfectly, and--"

"Monsieur le Cure!" announced the footman.

Myrna calmly turned her back--but only to whirl suddenly around again,
as, with a sharp exclamation, her father stepped quickly toward the
door.

"Good heavens, my dear man, what is the matter with you?" Henry Bliss
cried out in consternation.

Father Anton's white hair was unbrushed; he was unshaved; and his face
already haggard, his eyes already deep-set and blue-circled from his
twenty-four hours of bedside vigil, now bore added and unmistakable
signs of violent mental agitation and distra