“But, mother, he said he meant to, and I heard him do it. He got angry because I wouldn’t let him in. I couldn’t then, for I wasn’t dressed, and Jane’s putting a new ribbon on my dressing-gown, so I haven’t even got that. But I didn’t want to. Never mind that—I’ll tell you by and by. The question is how I’m to get out! Unless he didn’t quite mean it, and has left the key on the table in the entry, with the latch-key. You might look.”
Mrs. Lauderdale went downstairs and searched for the key, but in vain. Katharine was locked in.
CHAPTER X.
Mrs. Lauderdale was indignant. Katharine, at least, had been able to see the ludicrous side of the situation, and had laughed to herself on finding that she was locked in. Less conventional than either her father or mother, it had occurred to her for a moment that she was acting a part in an amusing comedy. The idea that by one or two absurd phrases she had so irritated Alexander as to make him forget his dignity and his common sense together, and do a thoroughly foolish thing such as a child in a passion might do, was funny in the extreme, she thought. But Mrs. Lauderdale, being called in, as it were, after the play, thought the result very poor fun indeed. In her opinion, her husband had done a senseless thing, in the worst possible taste.
Fortunately the house was an old one, and the simple, old-fashioned lock was amenable to keys which did not belong to it. In due time, Mrs. Lauderdale found one which served the purpose, and Katharine was set at liberty.
“This is just a little more than I can bear,” she said, as her mother entered the room. “I didn’t expect this sort of thing last night when I said I wouldn’t go to uncle Robert’s. Really—papa’s losing his head.”
“I must say, it’s going rather far,” admitted Mrs. Lauderdale.
“It’s gone a great deal too far,” Katharine answered. “I laughed when I found I was locked in. It seemed so funny. But I won’t let him do it again.”
“You two have a faculty for irritating each other that’s beyond anything,” observed Mrs. Lauderdale. “It really would be much better if you could be separated for a little while. My dear, what do you suppose could happen, if you went to uncle Robert’s?”
“Just what I told you yesterday. Papa would be quite bland when I came home again. By that time he could have got over his rage, and he’d want to know things—oh, well! I won’t talk about all that. It only hurts you, and it can’t do any good, can it? Hadn’t I better go up to uncle Robert’s and ask if he can have me? Meanwhile, Jane could pack a few things—just what I need to-day—I can always come down, or send down, and get anything I want at a moment’s notice. Shan’t I, mother? What do you think?”