"You too, Archie. You helped me out, when you came. I wish you were my brother."
Archie laughed a little consciously.
"Maybe we can fix that up in time. Now go along and pack up your trumpery."
Theodora's face suddenly grew grave.
"Are they very angry at me at home, Archie?"
He laughed.
"Horribly. Still, I've an idea that, if you're meek enough, you'll be in a fair way to be forgiven."
And she was forgiven. Her welcome home was hearty and loving from them all, pathetically so from Billy, who tried in vain to cover his real emotion under a boyish indifference. The last words were still to be said, however; and it was not until Theodora sat alone in the office with her father, that night, that she felt the incident was ended and she stood among them on precisely the old ground.
"I can't blame you, my girl," he said at last, as he drew his arm yet more tightly about her waist. "You were rash and headstrong. You caused us two days of terrible anxiety, and you might have run into serious difficulties; but your purpose was a good one, even if it was too impetuous and daring for a child like you. We were all blind, Teddy, strangely blind; and I can never forgive myself for my unjust suspicions, nor be glad enough that you stood by your old friend in the face of all this evidence." There was a silence. Then he bent over and kissed her forehead. "Teddy dear, if you can only tame down this rashness of yours, and yet be the same loyal girl you are now, your womanhood will be very big and beautiful. But remember this, dear, in all this wilful, hasty end of the century, a true woman must be as gentle as she is brave, as thoughtful as she is loving."
"But I'm glad it's all over," Theodora said contentedly, the next day.