She watched him stride down the walk. Then she came back into the room, her eyes alight.
"Oh, Oom Peter," she murmured, half aloud.
"I see," returned Peter Grimm. "I know all about it. I know, little girl. I know."
CHAPTER XXII
"ALL THAT HAPPENS, HAPPENS AGAIN"
Late as was the hour, Kathrien yet lingered a few minutes longer in the room where that night her freedom and her life's crown had come to her.
She paused by the desk and lovingly caressed the rich, red mass of roses which, in memory of her uncle, she daily placed there. The cool, velvety touch of the blossoms was like a living response to her caress. And from the crimson petals arose a faint, drowsy fragrance.
Kathrien sank into the worn desk chair and gazed dreamily into the dying fire. She seemed to read there a wonderful story. Or else the grey-red embers shaped themselves into beautiful pictures. For her face was joyous beyond all belief.
"To-morrow!" she murmured to herself.