"Oh, but he's one of the biggest occultists there is, an'—"
"I suppose you mean 'oculist,' Susan," interrupted Keith, still more coldly; "but that doesn't make any difference. I don't want him."
"But, Keith, if he—"
"I tell you I won't have him," snapped Keith irritably.
"But you've got to have somebody, an' if he's the biggest!" All the eager light had died out of Susan's face.
"I don't care if he is the biggest, he's Dorothy Parkman's father, and that's enough. I WON'T HAVE HIM!"
"No, no; well, all right!" And Susan, terrified and dismayed, hurried from the room.
But though Susan was dismayed and terrified, she was far from being subdued. In the kitchen she lifted her chin defiantly.
"All right, Master Keith," she muttered to herself. "You can say what you want to, but you'll have him jest the same—only you won't know he's HIM. I'll jest tell him to call hisself another name for you. An' some time I'll find out what there is behind that Dorothy Parkman business. But 'tain't till Christmas, an' that's 'most two months off yet. Time enough for trouble when trouble knocks at the door; an' till it does knock, jest keep peggin' away."