head.

"What is it, Cousin Theodora?" she asked. "You were talking about papa
and me; weren't you?"

Surprised at her sudden appearing, both Billy and Theodora were silent.
Then Theodora put her arm around Cicely's waist and drew the girl down on
the arm of her chair. The motion was womanly and gentle and protecting;
but it was not enough to satisfy Cicely. She must have the truth.

"Please tell me," she said again with a ring of authority in her voice.
"I'm not a baby; and, whatever it is, I ought to know it."

"To-night's paper reports the failure of Everard and Clark," Billy said
quietly. "It may be an error, Cis, and it may not be a bad failure. I
wouldn't worry till I knew the truth of it."

She looked straight into his face, and her own face grew white; but she
neither exclaimed nor bewailed. There was a short hush. Then she said
steadily,--

"Let me see the paper, please."

Silently Billy handed her the paper. Silently she read to the end the
sensational account of the failure of the well-known banking firm.

"Is anybody to blame?" she demanded then.

Billy read her secret fear, and was glad that he could answer it with
perfect truth.

"No, Cis. The trouble all came from outside the firm. You needn't worry
about that."

"I'm glad," she said slowly, as she rose. "No; don't come, Cousin Ted. I
want to think it over."

But Theodora did come. Up in the dark in Cicely's room, they talked it
all over, crying a little now and then, then rousing themselves to make
brave plans for the future and for the meeting between Cicely and her
father. His home-coming now must mean a return to anxiety and business
care, and to the sharp mortification of finding the firm whose reputation
had been made by his sagacity and skill, fallen into bankruptcy during
his one short year of absence.

"Oh, it was cruel for him to be ill," Cicely said forlornly. "They say it
would never have come, if he had only been here to manage things. He
couldn't help having pneumonia and going away; but I do wish they had
left that out. It's like throwing the blame on him for something he
couldn't help. He isn't the man to shirk things, Cousin Theodora."

"They didn't mean that, dear," Theodora said gently. "They were only
trying to show how much he had done in past years. You've no reason to be
ashamed of your father, Cicely."

"Ashamed of him!" Cicely's tone was hard and resonant, free from all
suspicion of tears. "You don't know my fat