trouble?" he asks, a few minutes later, as he
enters Cecil's room, where she is having a cosy dinner with her small
dishes.

"O papa--and I don't mind at all! It's just splendid up here."

"Hush, Cecil," rather peremptorily.

"Mrs. Grandon was--I _do_ think she was cross," says Jane. "Miss Cecil
said she would wait for her mamma, and Mrs. Grandon said----" Jane
hesitates.

"Isn't it your house, papa? Grandmamma shook me because I said so," and
Cecil glances up defiantly.

"What did Mrs. Grandon say?" he asks, quietly, of Jane; for intensely
as he dislikes servants' gossip, he will know what provocation was
given to his child.

"She said that Miss Cecil wasn't mistress here nor any one else, and
that she would not have dinner kept waiting for people who chose to be
continually on the go. She took Miss Cecil's hand, and the child jerked
away, and she scolded, and Miss Cecil said that about the house."

"Very well, I understand all that is necessary." He has not the heart
to scold Cecil, the one being in the house devoted to Violet, and looks
at her with sad eyes as he says,--

"Mamma has had a bad fall, and is ill in bed. You must be a good girl
to-night and not make trouble for Jane."

"Oh, let me go to her!" Cecil is down from her dainty table, clinging
to her father. "Let me go, I will be so good and quiet, and not tease
her for stories, but just smooth her pretty hair as I did when her head
ached. Oh, you will let me go?"

He raises her in his arms and kisses the rosy, beseeching lips, while
the earnest heart beats against his own. "My darling," there is a
little tremble in his voice, "my dear darling, I cannot take you
to-night, but if you will be brave and quiet you shall go to-morrow.
See if you cannot earn the indulgence, and not give papa any trouble,
because you love him."

A long, quivering breath and dropping tears answer him. He is much
moved by her effort and comforts her, puts her back in her chair, and
utters a tender good night. Gertrude waylays him in the hall for a
second assurance that matters are not serious with Violet, and sends
her love. He sees no one else, and goes out in the darkness with a step
that rings on the walk. It seems to him that he has never been so angry
in all his life, and never so helpless.

"She has had her tea and fallen asleep," announces Denise, in a low
tone, as if loud talking was not permissible, even at the kitchen door.
"I think the powder was an anodyne.