“Hush, child—don’t!”
Katharine said nothing, but still leaned back, resting both elbows on the high chest of drawers on each side behind her, and looking down thoughtfully at the points of her shoes. Mrs. Lauderdale was silent, too, for several seconds.
“Well?” Katharine uttered the convenient word interrogatively, without looking up.
“Well—yes,” responded Mrs. Lauderdale. “I was going to say that—” She hesitated. “My dear,” she continued, at last, “you’ll have to say something to your father, after all this.”
“Something like what I’ve said already?” asked Katharine, raising her black eyebrows and glancing at her mother.
“No, no! I’m serious, my dear.”
“So am I—very. You began to talk of an apology. It’s quite useless, mother—I can’t and I won’t apologize.”
“But, Katharine, darling—he says he won’t see you unless you do—he’s dreadfully angry still!”
“Oh—he won’t see me? What does that mean? That I’m to stay in my room?” She laughed a little.
“He’s in earnest about it,” said Mrs. Lauderdale. “That’s what he said—he—I don’t like to say it—but I must, I suppose. That’s just it. He means you to stay in your room whenever he’s in the house.”