"Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary.
But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically.
"Good-night!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word.
Mary's face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to comfort her in his quiet way.
"I wouldn't worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are all right, and will look after her—you know, some people do think a whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don't blame her, for I'm poor company—and only a policeman, after all."
John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after the trio.
"You do think it's all right, don't you, Burke?"
"Why, certainly," said Burke. He lied like a gentleman and a soldier.
Old Barton was ill at ease, although he endeavored to cover his anxiety with his usual optimism.
"We are too hard on the youngsters, I fear," he began. "It's true that Lorna has not had very much pleasure since I was injured. The poor child has had many sleepless nights of worry since then, as well. You know she has always been our baby, while my Mary here has been the little mother since my dear wife left us."